You Really Do Imagine It: Against Error Theories of Imagination

Abstract

Before Kripke and Putnam, most philosophers accepted that a posteriori identities were contingent; it was, after all, very easy to imagine the falsity of any a posteriori identity. It seems fair to say that Kripke (1971, 1980) revolutionized how we understand the relationship between epistemology and modality. He argued persuasively for the necessity of identity and hence that even identities discovered a posteriori, like water = H2O, turn out to be necessary, not contingent. This is now the received wisdom. Let us assume that philosophers were convinced to accept a correct conclusion: there are a posteriori necessities of the kind that Kripke and Putnam cite. When we unpack Yablo's answer to this question, and examine how he thinks we ascertain that a situation is impossible, we will see that while Yablo concedes the answer to the first question may be "yes," he answers "no" to second. In this paper I argue that Kripke and Yablo are both mistaken about imagination. The answer to both questions is "yes:" it is easy to imagine impossible situations, including situations deemed impossible only a posteriori, even after we acknowledge that they are impossible. I first establish that Kripke in fact answers "no" to the first question (§1). I will then explain why I think that is a mistake, why it is plausible that we can imagine the impossible (§2). That discussion will also lay the groundwork for examining Yablo's elaborations of Kripke's views; I will argue that Yablo's view of imagination also doesn't stand up to scrutiny (§3).1 At this point I will have shown that Kripke and Yablo hold implausible views about imagination. One might think we nevertheless must accept this implausible view because it offers the best hope for retaining imagining as a guide to metaphysical possibility in the face of a posteriori necessities. If we routinely imagine the impossible, how can we continue to take imagining to provide evidence for metaphysical possibility? I will sketch a positive proposal that shows how (§4). Though we can imagine the impossible, my proposal supplies independent grounds (i.e., grounds other than the very modal conclusions at issue) for denying that imagined impossibilities are evidence for possibility. I close by showing how my analysis allows a tidy resolution to Kripke's influential discussion of the zombie argument for dualism at the end of Naming and Necessity (§5). The view I attribute to Kripke is an error theory about imagining. The picture I take Kripke to have in mind goes something like this. Perception tells us about actuality, and we perceive only what is true (understand 'perceive', 'see', 'hear', and so on as success verbs). Similarly imagination tells us about metaphysical possibility, and we imagine only what is possible.2 Think of imagination as a telescope through which we survey genuine possibilities—call this the telescopic view of imagining.3 On the telescopic view of course you cannot imagine the impossible. Kripke realizes that, given his conclusions about the necessity of some a posteriori truths, it's going to seem like we can imagine impossible situations. The telescope initially seems to reveal impossible situations. He accepts that he needs to explain away these apparent imagined impossibilities. Kripke's familiar strategy reconstrues these cases: we do not really imagine something impossible, rather we imagine a possible situation that is similar enough to the impossibility to be mistaken for it. This is an error theory about imagination; Kripke's version of it consists of at least three claims: Kripke's Error Theory explains why he thinks we needn't answer (Q1) affirmatively. We mistake what we see in the telescope: the situation we imagine is a genuine possibility, we are just a little confused about what situation it is. We make mistakes about what we imagine. In this section I want to establish that Kripke endorses the Error Theory. There are several reasons for doing so. First, Kripke's writings have been quite influential, so it will be instructive to see whether, and how clearly, he articulates the Error Theory. Second, I have found that philosophers divide on which question, (Q1) or (Q2), deserves priority. Some think a negative answer to (Q2) offers the plausible position: what we take to be impossible affects what we imagine, and (Q1) holds interest only insofar as it bears on (Q2). Others' intuitions pull in the reverse direction: if a situation is impossible, there is nothing to imagine, regardless of what we might confusedly think. Even if we mistakenly think a situation is possible, then we still cannot imagine it. Whichever way you lean, it is important to recognize that "no" answers to (Q1) and (Q2) represent independent views. Third, objections to the Error Theory outlined in section two serve as a framework for objecting to Yablo's way of refining Kripke's initial position. We will discuss Yablo's view in section three. But whatever we imagine counterfactually having happened to [the table] other than what actually did, one thing we cannot imagine happening to this thing is that it, given that it is composed of molecules, should still have existed and not have been composed of molecules. We can imagine having discovered that it wasn't composed of molecules. But once we know that this is a thing composed of molecules—that this is the very nature of the substance of which it is made—we can't then, at least if the way I see it is correct, imagine that this thing might have failed to have been composed of molecules. (Kripke 1980, pp. 126–27, emphasis mine)5 Here Kripke clearly endorses Unimagined. Eddie does not (because he cannot) imagine this very table composed of an ethereal entelechy because its "very nature" is to be composed of molecules. Perhaps before he realized the table was made of molecules he might have thought he could imagine it composed of an ethereal entelechy. But especially now that he realizes that the table is made of molecules, he realizes he wasn't imagining, because he can't imagine, that it is not. (The reader might wonder: does Kripke have to answer "no" to (Q1)? Perhaps in the past we could imagine the impossible, but only because we didn't realize it was impossible; that is why Kripke includes provisos like "given that it is composed of molecules." Once we realize a situation is impossible we can no longer imagine it; though the answer to (Q1) is "yes," the answer to (Q2) is "no." If that is the way you read Kripke, then you take Kripke to share Yablo's view, which we will come to in section three. In this section I focus on the "no" answer to (Q1).) [The materialist] has to hold that we are under some illusion in thinking that we can imagine that there could have been pains without brain states… He has to show that these things we think we can see to be possible are in fact not possible. He has to show that these things we can [seem to] imagine are not in fact things we can imagine. (1980, p. 163, emphasis mine). This is another clear endorsement of the Error Theory. Although Kripke endorses the Error Theory, in several passages imagination and error theory play a less prominent role.6 The reason is that Kripke works with two interwoven threads. Kripke's primary concern is to argue for the existence of a posteriori necessities. Should we say that it is possible for gold to have ten fewer protons, that possibly Hesperus ≠ Phosphorus, or that this table could have been made of ice? No, Kripke argues. The second thread is our focus: what we can and cannot imagine. Kripke shifts between these two threads, not overly concerned to distinguish them, because his primary concern is the first thread, with what is possible. When we attend to the second thread, however, it is plain that Kripke feels it's his burden to say something about our apparent ability imagine gold with ten fewer protons, Hesperus not identical to Phosphorus, and this table made of ice. He responds with the Error Theory. Confusion about Kripke's notion of epistemic possibility sometimes obscures the fact that he endorses the Error Theory. A proposition is epistemically possible if we are unable to rule it out relative to some epistemic standard: the proposition is true for all we are justified in believing, or for all we know, or for all we know for certain. An alternative interpretation claims that Kripke doesn't endorse the Error Theory: we aren't mistaken about what we imagine because we really do imagine epistemic possibilities.7 That is why Kripke concedes, "We can imagine having discovered that [this wooden table] wasn't composed of molecules," because we really imagine the epistemic possibility.8 No error theory applies. Our problem is we mistake genuine (metaphysical) possibility for mere epistemic possibility, but it is quite understandable if ordinary folk (not to mention pre-Kripkean philosophers) fail to appreciate that kind of technical philosophical distinction. I doubt whether this alternative interpretation is what Kripke intends, and, regardless, it fails to avoid the Error Theory. The point of epistemic possibility is to make Confusion (the second claim of the Error Theory) plausible, not to avoid the Error Theory. Kripke explains epistemic possibility as imagining "…appropriate qualitatively identical evidential situations [in which] an appropriate corresponding qualitative statement might have been [true]" (1980, p. 142).9 Kripke's externalism about meaning entails that in a different situation the corresponding qualitative statement 'Water is not composed of H2O' would mean something different than the English sentence 'Water is not composed of H2O'. Hence when we imagine an epistemic situation qualitatively identical to our own, we imagine a situation in which an utterance of 'Water is not composed of H2O' is true. The word 'water' means something other than what it actually does. In that situation there is no water around though there is stuff that is called 'water' by us. When Kripke writes that we can imagine "having discovered" or "finding out" that water is not H2O, he is speaking loosely; we cannot really imagine it turning out that water is not H2O.10 This is still the Error Theory. Let me describe the error in a way that hints at why I think the view is implausible. You believe that water is H2O, and probably also that water is necessarily H2O. However, you acknowledge that you—the actual you, not the imagined you—might be wrong. For all your evidence, it seems that you can imagine being mistaken, imagine really discovering that water is not H2O, imagine it really turning out that water is not H2O. Kripke disagrees. Insofar as we take ourselves to be imagining discovering that water is really XYZ, not H2O, we are mistaken. That is not what we imagine. We imagine instead a situation in which 'water' refers to something other than water. Thus whether the situation imagined is an epistemic possibility, whether imagined "as actual" or imagined "as counterfactual," Kripke insists that we do not imagine the impossible situation we take ourselves to imagine.11 I conclude there is ample evidence that Kripke endorses Unimagined and Confusion, thus subscribing to the Error Theory about imagining. Is the Error Theory correct? Set aside modal truths and modal epistemology for a moment. On their own, how plausible are Unimagined and Confusion? How plausible is it that we cannot imagine certain impossible situations, and that we make mistakes about what we imagine when we try to? I contend: not very. Leaving aside modal considerations, Kripkean claims about imagination should strike us as implausible.12 On our commonsense understanding of imagination, the answer to (Q1) is yes. I will present and explain a range of cases that demonstrate this. Of course for my cases to be compelling, they will have to involve situations that are generally acknowledged to be impossible. Hence these cases, if compelling, will also lay the groundwork for our discussion of (Q2). The Error Theory and a view that answers "yes" to (Q2)—what I will call a doxastic view—differ in how they diagnose our past episodes of imagining. Error Theorists insist that, when we think back on previous imaginings, we never imagined impossible situations, even back when we were ignorant of their impossibility, and even if we previously (and mistakenly) thought the situations were possible. Doxastic theorists disagree; they offer a model for past modal error, which we examine in section three. Let's begin with an example that shows we are not usually wrong about what we imagine. You are picking up Michael, who you've never met, at the airport and you imagine him having brown hair. When he arrives and turns out to be redheaded, you do not conclude: "Oh, I didn't really imagine him at all. It seemed to me that I was imagining him, but this guy has red hair, so I must have been imagining someone else." That is a misguided reaction. You were indeed imagining Michael, just not as he really is. There is no mistake about that. The Error Theory entails that in scenarios very much like the first airport case, you are making a mistake.13 Suppose that Michael turns out to be a woman (there are some women named "Michael") and further, suppose that biological sex is necessary. The Error Theorist will contend that now you should retract: "Oh, I didn't really imagine that person at all. It seemed to me that I was imagining Michael was a man, but Michael is a woman, so I must not have been imagining Michael after all." That too seems like a misguided reaction. You were indeed imagining Michael, just not as she really is. (You might laugh and tell her, "I imagined that you were a man!") Why think there is mistake about that? And notice that according to the Error Theorist whether or not you are making a mistake hinges on the truth of our supposition about the necessity of biological sex. That too seems implausible. The only reason to hold such a view is a prior commitment to imagining as something like a telescope through which we survey genuine possibilities. There is a better alternative. My favored model pictures imagination as constructing scenarios out of existing materials rather than as a telescope through which we survey genuine possibilities. When we think about imagination as constructive rather than telescopic, it becomes clearer how we can imaginatively construct impossible scenarios: we combine ingredients that together amount to an impossible situation. But the fact that the resulting scenario is impossible does not impede the construction. Further, given that we understand our construction materials, the suggestion that we are confused about what we imagine should sound peculiar. For example, I visually imagine my great-great-grandmother even though I have no idea what she looks like; maybe I form an image of a woman who resembles Madame Chiang Kai-Shek. That does not make it Madame Chiang Kai-Shek that I'm imagining. I'm imagining that the woman who looks this way is my great-great-grandmother. The question of how I know this—how I know that it is my great-great-grandmother I am imagining, rather than some other woman—doesn't really make sense. Wittgenstein makes this point with his King's College example (1965, p. 39). When one imagines King's College on fire, there is just no doubting that one is imagining King's College, and not something else, e.g., a similar-looking part of UCLA, or a miniature replica of the College. As a general rule, when we imagine something there is just no doubting that we have imagined that something. The construction model respects commonsense about imagination's flexibility and power, including our power to imagine the impossible. Lewis Carroll's stories should be ample enough evidence, but here is a more recent example. Imagine that in the present a teenager's father is "initially" an ineffectual loser with a crappy job who is pushed around by his boss. Imagine the teenager travels back to 1955 in a DeLorean and, through a series of mistaken-identity-fueled madcap adventures, changes his father into confident leader. As we visualize a scene between the teenage son and his adolescent dad we imagine that the scene is taking place in 1955 for "the second time"—the "first time" through 1955 the son wasn't even born yet! To makes sense of the story we have to imagine something impossible, that thanks to the teenager's intervention, 1955 happens differently the "second time" through. Ordinary constructive imagining is not concerned with metaphysical possibility. When we reflect on Back to the Future time travel we might realize that the situation is impossible: 1955 could not happen "twice." But unless we are fixated on imagining (only) metaphysical possibilities, that will not prevent us from constructing the time travel scenario in imagination. We might realize that the situation we are imagining is impossible, but we still happily follow along with the story and imagine it. Reading philosophy of time travel might spoil the story because we realize that, sadly, in reality there is nothing we can do to change the past, but it does not spoil the story by rendering it unimaginable. I conclude that when we reflect on what and how we imagine "in everyday life," as when we imagine Michael turning out to be a woman, or past-changing time travel, it is plausible that we can imagine the impossible. Let me now offer several more examples to solidify the reader's intuitions. I imagine myself receiving the Fields medal for proving Goldbach's conjecture. Imagine renowned mathematicians marvel; given my limited background, they reckon my discovery to be the most startling since Ramanujan's. It is clear that I imagine (and I suggest that you have imagined too) that I really have proved it. I imagine that my Fields medal-winning journal article contains the proof. I am not imagining myself as some kind of charlatan; my imagining would have quite a different character if I were. I can also engage in a similar imaginative project: I can imagine disproving Goldbach's conjecture. Now maybe if this were to actually happen it would be a more stunning feat, because most mathematicians believe the conjecture to be true. That is irrelevant.14 My imaginings do not contain any mathematical detail. I do not imagine any steps in my prize-winning proofs; I cannot emerge from my reverie and snap my fingers, say and I'm imagining some as as my imagining mathematical that I have to In my view, we cannot imagine in which there are time a made of or in to we who to do so will fail to imagine a or will imagine a that only seems to have the of being a in which the thing in question we imagine a in which there is unless our imaginings take place at a of to that of the imaginings of who are to the of to suggest that imagining a of that of have to be in the Goldbach's conjecture Let me begin with an these on imagination in the of whether we have any reason to believe that such things a made of are possible. He that possible situations are in possible for the situation to be possible, there must be possible of nature and the possible initial that it. But philosophers modal claims to in about the possible of nature or possible initial and thinks this is to their Hence to we should read him as that more than we can generally I am in how plausible is in its modal A view like of this modal holds little The suggestion that to imagine any situation whatever we to imagine would be too nothing would as by that We could not imagine the primary unless our imagining to the of could we imagine a table two to the of its present unless we enough to imagine the the initial and the of nature that would the table to be in the position. It seems clear that we can imagine situations without having to imagining the of the possible it's that very of imagining that thinks has philosophers into We can imagine a a without to imagine how I

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