Dennett’s deism

Int J Philos Relig (2012) 71:221–238DOI 10.1007/s11153-010-9279-9

ARTICLE

Dennett’s deism

Craig Ross

Received: 21 April 2010 / Accepted: 28 September 2010 / Published online: 12 December 2010© Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2010

Abstract To suggest that Daniel Dennett is a deist is to invite ridicule. Dennett isboth an avowed atheist and defender of naturalism in philosophy. Yet if we pay heedto the entirety of Dennett’s claims a curious picture emerges. My suggestion is thatHegel and Marx represent the rival responses to what we might call the modern predic-ament: what is the nature of existence in a world which seems a mechanism? Dennett’sresponse to this question is Hegelian, and involves a commitment to a religiosity whichmight surprise those otherwise receptive to his arguments.

Keywords Dennett · Deism · Naturalism · Hegel · Marx · Darwin

Dennett provides us with accounts of human freedom, consciousness, being, mind,morality and (implicitly) the social role of the theorist. Indeed, one commentatorbelieves that the sole omission in Dennett’s corpus is an account of the polis (Ross2000, p. 25). Yet among philosophers admiration is not universal. Many have thoughtDennett “slippery”; too willing to avoid criticism by being strategically imprecise. Ithas also been suggested that Dennett’s work is so broad he cannot be said to havea coherent theory or position, and (contrarily) that Dennett is in fact an Hegelian(Churchland 2002, pp. 64, 66, 79). I would argue that this latter suggestion is in facta considerable insight.

In Breaking the Spell Dennett sought to provide an account of how religious beliefsmight have emerged and become established. While he concedes that it is possible,even likely, that such beliefs conferred advantages on those holding them, the avowedaim of the project is polemical: Dennett wishes us to consider rationally whether weare wise to be as tolerant towards religion as we are. But even in this work there

C. Ross (B)Langside College, 50 Prospecthill Road, Glasgow G42 9LB, UKe-mail: [email protected]; [email protected]

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are remarks which strike the reader as odd. Dennett professes himself not hostilebut “indifferent” to “. . .the Ground of All Being, whatever that is” (2006, p. 266).Religion is defined narrowly; “. . .lone communicants. . .” are not religious, and norare those whose faith does not entail “. . .a supernatural agent or agents whose approvalis to be sought” (pp. 9, 11).

My approach is to take a “stance” towards Dennett. In The Intentional Stance (1987)Dennett famously counselled that understanding one another, and any intelligent crea-ture, means assuming rationality and purpose. It seems obvious that we might applythis method to Dennett and ask, “What is this theorist about?”

Dahlbom (1993, pp. 163–165) characterises Dennett as a victim of intellectualfashion, seduced by laissez faire. I believe the reality is rather more complex andinteresting. There is, though, much in what Dahlbom says. Dennett is a politicalwriter, and does indeed have an account of the polis: the modern Western state, theduties it imposes on its citizens, and the relationship such states maintain with the restof the world, are quite adequate (Brook and Ross 2002, p. 9). We need not considerany radical change in our lives, can never be radically free and responsible and musthave a morality rooted in communal self-interest. Yet the strictures which Dennett isobliged to accept on all theorising—this (after all) is for him an inertial universe wherepersons are contingent ciphers—would seem to preclude “political” contributions onthe nature of responsibility, morality and social justice.

The suggestion I would wish to pursue is that it is Hegelianism which squares thiscircle. I should perhaps note at the outset that I will not seek to defend the claim thatHegel gives genuine succour to theorists who wish to become theoreticians. Nor do Ibelieve that Dennett is animated by a conscious intention. As he says, those who ceasebelieving in God may “. . .seek a substitute. . .[in a process which]. . .need not be allthat conscious and deliberate” (2006, p. 205). Beings can, as Dennett would be thefirst to maintain, display self-interested intentionality without knowing what they do.

Communication

Within academia certain canonical assumptions are made. Authors are presumed torelate the truth as they understand it, and we assume that freedom of publication, in theround, promotes the common good. This certainly seems the “Western” assumption,dating from at least Milton’s Areopagitica. Academics presume a notionally perfectreader, and a world where those not able to engage in this practice neither interferewith it nor are misled by it.

Yet some theorists, including Dennett, see even scientific truth as potentially harm-ful. The difficulty is not simply the use of the fruits of science: Truman needlesslyusing Oppenheimer’s bomb. Rather, there are gaps between the “literal” meanings ofwords, what we mean in saying them, and what we are understood to have meant. IfDennett’s friend Paulina, for example, (a life science researcher) discovered a complexmeans for eradicating HIV, she might have to keep her findings secret. Her work mightotherwise be misrepresented as a straightforward “cure”, or be understood as such,producing an increase in risky behaviour, illness and death (Dennett 2003, pp. 17–18).

Dennett strongly accepts words as social acts (2003, p. 17), holding us liable for even“likely misrepresentations” of our locutions (1995, p. 393, also p. 150). In philosophy

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“. . .the gap between authorial pretence and effect achieved. . .is more comic thanpathetic” (1993a, p. 203). Indeed, perhaps “. . .deliberate obscurantism and . . .stylisedposes” might be better than the “. . .analysis and argument. . .so manifestly beyondus”. Dennett maintains that “philosophical writing [involves]. . .build[ing] devices. . .to achieve certain effects”. This awareness of the characteristics of his audience ofcourse raises questions as to how transparent Dennett’s work is.

Dennett’s view of his role has two components. He believes we face social and polit-ical problems produced by, and inextricably connected to, our minds. He also believeshe possesses (apparently by the grace of geist) the means to repair our weakness.

Our predicament

Dennett believes we are often failed by reason, our minds taken over by inheritedthought processes (so-called “bugbears”). The metaphysics of freedom, for example,seems a serious problem, yet it is also a peculiarly Western “problem”. Conceivablywe have been trained to see “the” problem, our minds running in “ruts” (Dennett 1984,pp. 5–6, 12). Generally, though, we are ignorant of the origins of our beliefs (Dennett2003, p. 244), and distract ourselves with the “problem” of metaphysical freedomwhile ignoring political and social freedom—a more worthy goal (p. 278). Breakingthe Spell is similarly a “just so” story, designed to free us from the hold of religionby rendering an account of how it might have taken over our minds.

It also seems to be beliefs toxic to freedom, the “scum” of the West, which repro-duce easily, and inoculation is difficult (Dennett 2003, p. 304). Our survival dependson mankind conceiving of the world correctly: the right “memes” must triumph(p. 305). But confounded by imaginary problems we are incapable of addressingreal threats, and of accepting science (especially Darwinism), which is our last besthope (1984, p. 4, 2003, pp. 5, 15).

Our salvation

A naturalistic account of our symbiotic relationship with the universe must handleerror circumspectly; if our evolved reason has produced poor outcomes we surelycannot be sanguine (even hopeful) about the future. After all, we have always been “atone with the world”, so past systematic errors must surely augur further calamities.

For Dennett the environment may well exercise benign control over us. Reasonis “ensconced” in the universe, being the name given to this successful interaction,the universe being devoid of “motiveless malignity” (1984, pp. 61–62, 118, 2003,pp. 40, 159). Yet, it seems, helpful strategic interventions, such as Dennett’s, alsoremain necessary.

Theorists differ in their prescriptions, and Dennett recognises he must compete forattention. This is a question of tactics (2003, pp. 19–20, 224): the wider public must bepersuaded of the uselessness of metaphysics and the hidden agendas of some theorists(1984, pp. 136–137, 2003, preface).

Only an unreflective thinker would fail to consider that he might be mistaken.Dennett concedes we may not be prepared for an unvarnished naturalistic vision of

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ourselves (replacing the “cracked myth” of religion, God and the soul), but thinks usready to “grow up” (2003, pp. 21, 290). However, those disagreeing might legitimatelymisrepresent Dennett’s work (2003, pp. 19–20). Those un-persuaded by Dennett’sdefence of Darwinism are encouraged to “. . .reject it and fight on. . .” (1995, p. 521).

This, of course, leaves unexplained the source of Dennett’s faith that our mostneeded beliefs will spread most readily. The answer to this question sits very uneasilywithin the Dennettian project as a whole, even if it is intrinsic to its coherence.

First, though, we should consider the supposed advantages of Dennett’s philosoph-ical naturalism. To reiterate, the goal is the defence of freedom (political and ideallymetaphysical) and the alleviation of anxiety (Dennett 1984, pp. 18, 153–155, 168–169). Dennett believes that naturalism achieves this, providing a footing for free will,morality and our self-understanding (Dennett 1984, p. 170, 2003, pp. 1, 16). Anti-nat-uralism seemingly destroys the ability to think (2003, pp. xi–xii). Science is no “myth”and its “methods” are applicable across subject areas (Dennett 2003, pp. 5–6). “Timemagazine standard. . .” respect for science “. . .leads inexorably. . .” to Dennett’s view(1993a, p. 205). Our previous self-understanding—that we were unlike other naturalbodies, made in God’s image and possessed of a motivating soul was (unlike science)“brittle” (2003, p. 306). People care about their place in the universe, but their intuitionis supported by the Darwinian account (p. 307). We believe both that our freedom isvastly greater than that of animals and also that we are part of the natural world. Someimagine these beliefs cannot coexist, and are driven to sever the mind from the brain,or believe we are animated by élan vital, or that we are touched by God. But thisinvolves self-deception: we are part of the natural world, and must know it. Moreover,human exceptionalism is unnecessary (p. 308). An account of the place of languageand culture in our lives leaves us as denizens of the natural world and citizens of thepolis: free and capable unlike anything else.

The crow

If action depends on belief—which seems uncontroversial—then we need someaccount of the origins of beliefs. Dennett is much exercised by this question. He quoteswith approval Wittgenstein; philosophy is concerned with preventing the “bewitch-ment” of our reason by language (Dennett 1984, p. 18). The mature Wittgenstein andDennett agree that language is usage, so that analytical attempts to “define our terms”may mislead us. But developed human reason is a product of memes (such as theo-ries) transmitted by language; Wittgenstein, after all, did not communicate by way ofexpressive dance. So the theorist can at best be a “memetic engineer”, “tuning” ourbeliefs through the deft use of language (Dennett 2003, pp. 250, 266, 278–279).

Ever the populariser, Dennett (2003, p.14) explains his point using Disney’s Dumbo,who could fly, but was rendered incapable by self-defeating beliefs. The “noble lie”surrounding the “magic” feather liberated him. But bringing Dumbo crashing to theground requires merely an unhelpful (although truthful) crow to cast doubt on thefeather’s powers.

Dennett believes philosophers enjoy being “crows”, discomfiting the complacentlyhappy (2003, p. 294). But he also believes that he is wrongly thought to be such a

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crow. In fact we live in a fortunate age: today the truth, not noble lies, will set us free.Fatalism would be an unfortunate consequence of a spreading acceptance of deter-minism, but Dennett’s (presumed successful) defence of compatibilism prevents this.Established religion was probably useful to us (p. 22), comforting people and keepingus alive to evolve something better (1995, p. 518, 2006, passim). But we have createdsomething better. Just as the old ideas died, perhaps killed by the shock of the new,we acquired the “prosthetics” we need (2003, pp. 294, 297). Like Dumbo our onlyfear is paralysing fear itself (pp. 294, 306). We want the truth, but have to try harderto see it (1984, pp. 170–171). But we will recognise it if we look: we can see thatthe “beast” of naturalistic Darwinism is in fact helpful and beautiful (1995, p. 521).Serendipitously, our fitness to hear the truth arrived with it. Finally our “being” hascreated a “knowing” not merely pragmatically useful, but essentially true. Soon, forthe first time, we will live an un-deluded life.

We might almost think that Dennett’s only possible role is to make us cognisant ofthis revolutionary fact.

Knowing and being

Arguably the first developed account of the rootedness of mind in the world is theMarx/Engels critique of Hegel. Once attention is drawn to these theorists (and Marxand Engels contemporaries of (and influenced by) Darwin), their usefulness in con-textualising the Dennettian project is remarkable. Dennett faces the same difficultiesfaced by these theorists: once man is the universe’s product, what could knowing be?But Hegel, Marx and Engels, unlike Dennett, were well aware of the narrow place leftthe theorist by this new vision.

Marx and Engels’ account of the emergence of their thought is not explicit. Thekey expressions of their theory are The German Ideology and Socialism: Utopian andScientific. The former is an account of how thinkers, usually for self-interested rea-sons, fail to recognise the circumstantial origins of their intellectual productions. Thelatter work separates all accounts of how the world “ought” to be from that “scientific”theory which describes natural processes of change.

In The German Ideology the failure of theorists to recognise empirical reality’s rolein the production of mind is castigated. “Old Hegelians”, in thrall to Hegel, imagine theworld is produced by concepts, rather than concepts being produced in men’s mindsby their worldly interactions. Hegel, an Idealist, could imagine The Philosophy ofRight as an account of pre-existing timeless ideas of “Abstract Right”, “Morality” and“The State” being realised in the corporeal world. “Young Hegelians” (once includ-ing Marx), also saw concepts ruling the world, but “. . .attack[ed] this dominion asusurpation, while [Old Hegelians] extol. . . it as legitimate” (Tucker 1972, p. 149). Inother words, Young Hegelians wanted, as an act of political will, to change society’sideology. Marx dismissed them all en bloc; nobody “. . .inquire[s] into the connectionof German philosophy with German reality, the relation of . . .criticism to. . .materialsurroundings”. The dependent status of intellect is forcefully asserted:

Morality, religion, metaphysics, all the rest of ideology and their correspond-ing. . .consciousness. . .have no history, no development; but men, developing

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their material production and their material intercourse, alter, along with thistheir real existence, their thinking and the products of their thinking. Life is notdetermined by consciousness, but consciousness by life (p. 155, my emphasis).

The origin of errors in our understanding is found in our attempt to sustain ourselves(p. 154). Language itself “. . .is practical consciousness that exists also for other men,and for that reason alone it really exists for me as well; language, like consciousness,only arises from the need, the necessity, of intercourse with other men” (p. 158, myemphasis).

This mirrors Dennett’s account. For Dennett good is “good for”, and the emergenceof creatures able to defend their interests is the origin of good, evil and morality. ForMarx man is a productive survival-oriented creature, and his intellectual products arereflexes of that fact, morality merely an expression of the needs of the age’s dominantclass. As feudal economic relations declined so therefore did the seemingly immuta-ble notion of liege service. Similarly, modern contract law followed industrialisation,at first seeming alien and then self-evident. For Dennett language and consciousnessare tools for interaction, and so, mutatis mutandis, they are for Marx. Most tellingly,both theorists emphasise productive processes; to understand is to grasp change, or(as Dennett would put it) the role of algorithms (including every process producingchange which might attract our interest).

Engels’ Socialism: Utopian and Scientific, explains the implications of this thesisfor theorists. Humans are creatures of their times, so their possibilities are contin-gent: we must “. . .connect with the intellectual stock-in-trade” (Tucker 1972, p. 683).Reason itself is a historical product. Even great thinkers cannot “. . .go beyond thelimits imposed upon them by their epoch” (p. 684). Justice, for example, is intrinsicto the times; we cannot “. . .evolve out of the human brain” (p. 687, my emphasis) theproduct of centuries of hard life (“life” being the algorithmic process which createsour minds and our notions of justice).

One thinker, aside from Marx, has given life to our new worldview: “. . .Darwin mustbe named before all others. . .[having dealt] the metaphysical conception of Nature theheaviest blow” (p. 697), while allowing us to conceive of economic competition as“. . .the Darwinian struggle of the individual for existence transferred from Nature tosociety with intensified violence” (p. 706).

Therefore (over a century before Dennett) Marx and Engels had understood that ifman was a product, then “knowing”—our evolved interrogative stance to the world—could only be a reflexive adaptation. Marx and Engels theory becomes “. . .nothing butthe reflex, in thought, of [class conflict]” (p. 702, my emphasis). To “know” is merelyto have natural dispositions produced by life.

A perch for the crow

Engels, in one of philosophy’s great aphorisms, declared that understanding the“material” origins of our intellect meant explaining “. . .man’s “knowing” by his“being”, instead of, as heretofore, his “being” by his “knowing” (Tucker 1972,p. 699). The anti-Cartesianism is obvious and, of course, sits squarely with Dennett’swar on the Cartesian view that some observer witnesses and evaluates the presentations

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of the senses. Marx and Engels unfailingly characterise our intellectual lives as theoutcome of our needs-driven symbiotic relationship with the world. Yet they under-stand the threatened performative contradiction: Engels’ privileged life, and Marx’sresidence in the British library, presumably produced “beings” unequipped with anygreat “knowing”. The petard used for Idealists and utopians seems to beckon.

This difficulty is compounded as Marx and Engels (like Dennett) were theoreticians;the theoretical work was intended to have some practical effect. But practical activ-ity sits uneasily with proscriptive attacks on pretentious theorists. Marx and Engels(formally) restrict themselves to “comprehend[ing]” the meaning of the proletariat’sacts, and making them aware of their character (Tucker 1972, p. 717). Even the polit-ical Manifesto maintains that socialistic principles are not “. . .invented, or discov-ered. . .[but] merely express. . .actual relations springing. . .from a historical movementgoing on under our very eyes” (p. 484).

A Marxist might respond to this circumscription of the theorist’s role by citing thefamous eleventh Theses on Feuerbach: “The philosophers have only interpreted theworld, in various ways; the point, however, is to change it” (p. 145). Intellectual libera-tion (given the social construction of minds) requires “. . .the practical overthrow of theactual social relations which give rise to this idealistic humbug” (p. 164). But makingcoherent the criticisms of Hegel and of the “utopians” means accepting the limitationsMarx and Engels placed on themselves, those limitations inherent in their account ofthe relationship of mind to material circumstances. Marx and Engels could participatein revolutionary activity, but not qua theorists. They must, given their being, have lessknowledge than the proletariat demonstrate in their actions.

To turn to Hegel, it is the mistaken perception of undiluted conservatism that damnsHegel for many. For Engels, though, Hegel was a genius, his proto-Darwinism produc-ing a reconfigured history as “. . .the process of evolution of man himself”. However,such a process “. . .cannot find its intellectual final term in. . .any. . .absolute truth”.Hegel wrongly “. . .laid claim to. . .[espousing that]. . .absolute truth” (Tucker 1972,p. 698).

However, Hegel’s account of theorising is virtually indistinguishable from those ofMarx and Engels, and is markedly similar to Dennett’s account of reason as a socialpractice. Our minds are the product of circumstances, and “. . .every individual is achild of his time” (Knox 1967, p. 11). Philosophers too remain “children”: philosophycan no more “. . .transcend its contemporary world” than an “. . .individual can over-leap his own age. . .”. Hegel, like Marx and Engels, contrasts understanding with theerroneous project of constructing a state “. . .as it ought to be”. Philosophy “. . .comeson the scene too late. . .” to give advice, spreading its metaphorical wings “. . .only withthe falling of the dusk” (pp. 12–13). More prosaically, a theorist seeks to understandthe living evolving reality which made him. There is necessarily some very significant,as Dennett would dub it, “. . .closure of the mind” (1995, pp. 381, 489).

Yet notwithstanding this commonality, the source of Marx’s antipathy is clear.Hegel’s lodestone is, “What is rational is actual and what is actual is rational” (Knox1967, p. 10). So what exists may lack some final divine imprimatur, but the world isnot purposeless (p. 302); the “universe of mind. . .” is not at “. . .the mercy of chanceand caprice, . . .God-forsaken. . .” (p. 4, my emphasis). The world (purportedly) isanimated by God’s spirit. This claim, not simply Hegel’s Idealism, marked the real

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rupture with Marx. A theodical account describes God coming to know himself in aworld containing evil, and Hegel believed his history was the “true theodicy” (Tucker1972, p. 175). Berry concurs, maintaining that “. . .Hegel’s view of history as a The-odicy is no mere rhetorical sop to his audience, but is fundamental to his vision andsystem as a whole” (Berry 1982, p. 191).

By following Berry, and locating Hegel and Hume as responses to the post-Cartesianworld, we can see clearly Dennett’s predicament. For Hegel “spirit” moves the world,and has no alternative. Herder’s God of mere “force”, like Hobbes’s unseen firstcause, or Dennett’s Big Bang, implies a division between the first “spring” (divineor otherwise) and the “clay” of the world. Hegel (like Dennett) could not toleratemeaninglessness (Berry 1982, p. 137). But identifying meaning means displacing our“centre of gravity” (p. 139): man becomes part of a universe coming to know itself,so spirit knows itself in the mind of philosophical man. Or more bluntly, God knowshimself to be God only when humans know God to be their maker: “. . .without theworld God is not God” (PRel I, 200, Berry 1982, p. 191). Some humans are fortu-itously in at the end of history, with the “. . .Christian recognition of Geist. . .”, andGod’s death as a human, demonstrating man’s infinite worth (p. 180). So, as Lowithput it,

. . .the history of the world is to Hegel a history BC and AD not incidentally orconventionally but essentially. Only on this presupposition of the Christian reli-gion as the absolute truth could Hegel construct universal history systematicallyfrom China up to the French Revolution. (In Berry 1982, p. 182)

Presuming the meaningfulness of human existence to found this Hegelian accountis circular, but for Hegel not viciously so, being “. . .the very self-authenticating struc-ture of the Absolute” (Berry 1982, p. 184). If the world was not God-forsaken thenGod’s existence would give us faith in him, and we would succeed in coming to knowhow God existed in the world (as Hegel thought he had).

Hegel’s theory can be contextualised. Shocking social diversity was a fact forEnlightenment and post-Enlightenment philosophers. They might have simply con-cluded that this was a simple fact, but the Enlightenment mind sought causes. Soinstead we have the Humean account of the universal human dispositions—vanity,sympathy, induction, kindness to children, and so on (Berry 1982, pp. 60–61), witheven morality being rooted in an atavistic sentiment, and “. . .more properly felt thanjudg’d” (Treatise p. 470). This non-relativistic given nature was realised in circum-stances which produced apparent diversity (Berry 1982, pp. 68, 117–118). Hegel, bycontrast, accepts “. . .that the human mind itself. . . has a history”, so cognition var-ies (pp. 65–66). Therefore even radical difference has a place as a progenitor of thepresent, assuming God in the world. The Hegelian and Humean accounts of man, andtheir rejection of contingency, can be summarised:

The developmental (Hegelian) view defines mankind temporally; it assimilatesthe history of mankind to a process, so that it now “makes sense” to employorganic language or talk of the “whole” possessing attributes. Mankind isprogressive. To Hume, mankind is defined atemporally; it enjoys certain

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propensities etc which are ever present, though their exercise will, as historyshows, vary with circumstances. . . (Berry 1982, p. 124)

For Hegel the universe is a whole, rendered benign by God’s presence throughout,and his love of (and as) man. Marx’s criticism of Hegel is fully “Feuerbachian”: theuniverse is indeed evolving, but man’s notions of God are themselves the deludedproducts of that relationship.

However, both Marx and Hegel can account for their own understanding withoutcontravening their meta-philosophical commitments. For Marx the material worldpurportedly impresses its truth into working men’s minds. But by subordinating them-selves as chroniclers, Marx and Engels avoid producing an actionable critique throughreason: as “knowing” is determined by “being” they must foreswear this. Indeed, theMarx/Engels account of rationality is necessarily thin, as our minds will be a func-tion of an unseen future. Hegel, similarly, avoids falling foul of his own strictures.As the world is present expression of geist, philosophy merely describes spirit’s pro-gress. Hegel may be a deeply conservative thinker, whose theory may have the effect,designedly or otherwise, of defending established orders. But given his fundamentalclaim that the universe is not God-forsaken Hegel can explain his theorising: just likeMarx he is merely producing a chronicle, describing God’s movement rather than theproletariat’s actions.

Dennett’s perch

As a Darwinian Dennett must have a naturalistic account of the mind: being mustproduce knowing. Yet this process must account for his theorising, and also surviveour knowledge of modernity: Marx did not see 20th century Marxism, but he sawenough of the 19th century to declare himself no Marxist.

It is in Darwin’s Dangerous Idea that Dennett explains the origin and social effectsof our intellectual products, but does not so much describe a place for the socialtheorist as delineate a problem. To anticipate my conclusion, Dennett can only com-plete his account of “knowing” and “being” by committing explicitly to a broadlyHegelian stance. Dennett must then become much more modest. Dennett (like Hegel)sees history as benign and progressive. But his broad evolutionary theory, like that ofHegel and Marx, necessarily reduces the theorist’s role to vanishing point. Of course,Dennett could undergo a (for want of a better expression) damascene conversion, andconclude that there is something quixotic in his compatibilism, his strained accountof morality and the trenchancy of his rejection of the specialness of consciousness.If, contra Dennett, metaphysical freedom was a consequence of consciousness thenmind and “knowing” may no longer be functions of being. We might then be radically,and “unnaturally”, free. But then, of course, we could not avoid, by citing the “natu-ral” limitations on our morality and sentiments, what many see as the onerous moralresponsibilities we face. Bluntly, either ambition, or the limitations on it, must go.Dennett may cease his pretensions to manage modernity—the “Hegel/Marx” option.Alternatively, he may admit that his work is ideological, the product of a desire tobuttress the extant with science. But Dennett’s “perch” will not support his weight: ifknowing is being there can be no actionable diagnosis, and Dennett must desist from

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his prescriptive activity. Alternatively, if we are truly capable of knowing then we areradically free and fully responsible, and Dennett’s defence of the present is obviouslyideological.

Dennett seems confused even as to whether Darwin threatens us. SometimesDarwin’s impact is described broadly dispassionately: he may provide a new “foun-dation” for our understanding, may have “inverted” the world, have (as Marx thought)ended teleology in science or (as Nietzsche believed) killed God (Dennett 1995, pp.11,25, 62). Yet Dennett also portrays Darwin as incontrovertibly dangerous. The theory(apparently) attracts psychopaths and “cuts” more deeply than its defenders realise(p. 264, also p. 18). Elsewhere conservatism is the problem. After all, Galileo sim-ilarly inverted the world and we adapted readily (p.19). Of course this is especiallyso if Darwin is, after all, not dangerous. This claim, too, finds favour with Dennett.Darwinian “universal acid” strengthens everything it passes through (pp. 63, 521): anodd acid.

A good Hegelian should face no such difficulty. Either Darwin is an agent of Godin the world, or he is without ultimate significance. Hegelianism implies that the truth-value of claims or innovations enjoy “preservative transcendence” during conflicts anddebates: the valuable part of Darwin will survive the “Darwin wars”. Similarly Marx,seeking to articulate a scientific (and hence descriptive) account, can judge every the-orist as correct (but irrelevant: himself and Engels) or mistaken (and irrelevant: Hegeland utopians). Dennett, deprived of open appeal to deistic solace, cannot admit hiscertainty that Darwinism is benign.

This discomfort is only part of Dennett’s unease with the intellectual life: as men-tioned earlier, he does not assume a careful readership. Rhetoric and “artful methods”are necessary, people are “deaf”, their imaginations “flail. . .”, and “entrenched” prej-udices make formal arguments impossible (1995, pp. 11, 12, 21, 25, 155, 394). Oftenpeople have “filters” which prevent understanding; anything seemingly “scientistic”or “sociobiological” is dismissed without ado (pp. 350, 361–362, 386). Even Dahlbomand Rorty fail to understand Consciousness Explained as Dennett intended (Dennett1993a, p. 204). Many academics read with “a broad brush”, classic texts are skimmedonce, and people opine on biology but are ignorant of elementary errors (1995,pp. 263, 265, 268, 275fn). Even within their own field other scholars err: world-renowned mathematician Roger Penrose misunderstands the nature of algorithms(p. 308). But of course interdisciplinary writing has similar dangers: Churchland andRamachandran (1993, pp. 30, 49–50) accuse Dennett of ignoring scientific evidenceto a degree suggesting “Flat Earthness”.

Many would not use these supposed problems to justify agitprop. Dennett believes,however, that “campaigning” is rife in biology and other disciplines, and this hasspread erroneous beliefs. Gould (who suggests that many evolutionary events may bedramatic and essentially maladaptive) is a particular source: the very fact that he is pro-lific means he can be presumed to have an agenda, most probably of Christian/Marxistorigin (Dennett 1995, pp. 239, 262, 264–265,309–310). In the battle for minds Dennettbelieves we might acknowledge as Darwin did (a suggestion echoed by Kuhn) that onlythe young are receptive to new ideas, and so should be the focus of the persuasive effort(1995, pp. 38–39): we no longer reward this with hemlock, after all. So there is a needto fight “political” battles within disciplines, and to produce pan-disciplinary writing

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aimed at a wide audience (1995, pp. 11, 21, 58). Few philosophers follow Dennett intasking graduate students to “. . .unearth “telling” neurophysiological work. . .” (Akins1993, p. 149). Rorty (1993, p. 198)) tells Dennett that verificationism must be made toseem “. . .glamorous, exciting, and exactly what the age demands”, to which Dennettreplies, “I’m trying, I’m trying” (p. 233). The outcome of this project, for Wilks (2002,p. 269), sees Dennett “. . .rise above individual disciplines into an airy region with noreal criteria for the judgment of what is said and claimed, while appearing very up-to-date in the use of metaphors from other subjects. . .”. It perhaps goes without sayingthat some might think the dividing line between “artful” writing and indoctrination arather thin one.

Wittgenstein’s claim that what matters in philosophy is the process, not the desti-nation, is rejected (Dennett 1995, p. 141), and Dennett seemingly thinks it obviousthat Gould errs in seeking the separation of science and religion (p. 310). Yet all con-tributions in these political battles are, remarkably, soon liberated from our intentions,having unintended effects and suffering mutation (pp. 346, 349, 353). Nietzsche andsome sociobiologists were wilfully reckless (pp. 464, 491), but nobody can know thedestination of their “brainchildren”.

Stated thus Dennett’s position seems odd. If “knowing” is a function of “being”we can run through the possibilities. Either Dennett is witness to (in essence, gestur-ing towards) change mandated by irresistible material forces, his witness an ultimateirrelevance—in which case he can have his naturalism, but loses his significance. Alter-natively, the bulk of humanity is as distanced from meaningful discourse as Dennettbelieves, and the evolved practices which we imagined contributed to the developmentof truth are malfunctioning. In this case the modest Hegel/Marx position is abandoned,but a naturalistic account which would explain both the limitations and resilience ofthe masses, not to mention the seemingly “unnatural” abilities of the elect, seemsdifficult.

Dennett recognises this choice, but cannot make it. He dallies with the latter option,speculating that society might rest on beliefs the masses do not understand (1995,p.509), but there is more evidence that (remarkably) Dennett is a de facto deist.

Portraying the universe as purposeless movement is problematic, and Dennett isaware of the difficulties: movement means there are no natural “joints” where we mayidentify a cause or actor. An electron or magnetic field may exhibit characteristics,and exert effects, but labelling it a “cause” is wholly arbitrary. A causal chain of eventsflows of necessity, with every “cause” also an effect, its status as a “cause” merelystipulated. As Hobbes saw, there is only one real cause, and it is that “. . .which. . . mencall God”. But in a mere causal chain there is no principled reason to avoid saying,“The nucleic acids invented human beings in order to be able to reproduce them-selves on the Moon”, or, “A scholar is just a library’s way of making another library”(Dennett 1995, pp. 342, 346). We can similarly remove substantive existence from eth-icists by granting it to the process producing ethicists (p. 495). Genes can be renderedinsubstantive; the environment can be our stipulated actor or “cause”, expressing itselfthrough the creation of phenotypes (p. 395). Brains, let alone minds, can be ignored,and culture can become the user of brains; even an ode to a nightingale might be theproduct of a dumb algorithm (pp. 443, 451). This vision is Dennett’s, and accuratelyrepresents determinism’s difficulties. Dennett tells us that Nature’s “experiment” with

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culture is recent, and we have no warrant it will end well (pp. 364–365). Humanity, andits “genes” and “memes”, is thus simply part of the indivisible universe’s movement.

Exempting the mind from nature to avoid this conclusion is a tactic Dennett seem-ingly rejects. Locke thought it inconceivable that matter could produce thought, there-fore (as Dennett characterises it) “. . .Mind must come first—or at least tied for first”(pp. 27–28, 66). We, who can imagine a thinking robot, can (supposedly) easily seehow matter may think (p. 66).

But Dennett, to avoid the above absurdities (wilful libraries making scholars, and soon), and to avoid conceiving of his brain as “. . .a sort of dung heap. . .” or “. . .informa-tional diaspora. . .”, where he may not be “. . .in charge. . .” (p. 346), does need someaccount of why brain matter creates a “joint” where the universe might reasonablybe carved: if the brain mechanistically runs “syntactic code” the “input” to the sensesseems an equally valid “joint”. The justification, it seems, lies in our acquiring usefuldispositions from interacting with the world, including our interactions with infor-mation. We can reflect, compare and infer—all of the operations of the mind Humedescribed—and leave records of this for others. Compared to animals our intelligenceis “. . .right off the scale. . .” thanks to our minds being “knit together” by language(pp. 381, 383). So, for example, the complex truths of maths are eternal and we,despite our limitations, can come to know them (pp. 489–490, 494–495). Perhaps, asMcGinn (1993, p. 92) says, God could see logic “lurking” in our minds, ready to be“. . .expanded into mathematics”. Newton was able to discover—in effect mirror—thevery principles of the universe (Dennett 1995, 139, 176, 184, 184fn). The universe hasmade us so that we regard it as axiomatic that we should believe the true and valuethe beautiful (pp. 363, 366). In effect, as Dewey claimed, a moving universe sustainsa notion of the good in us (p. 403); the notion that the universe requires us to bear itsnotion of goodness is, of course, strikingly Hegelian.

But if these mental operations are mechanisms it may seem we are no further for-ward. The “output” of the interconnected brains of humans must be as inevitable asthe experientially-bound inferences of the simplest creature. Or as Hall puts it, tak-ing evolution by blind algorithm seriously makes it difficult to discuss evolution, oranything else (Dennett 1995, p. 352).

The route taken by Dennett to find a place for mind is so difficult we should note themore “natural” alternative. Locke’s claim that mind must come before matter can benaturalised, and Dennett (perhaps demonstrating the Hegelian “cunning of reason”)explains how. Mind may be, as Dennett says, “. . .tied for first”, or as Aristotle wouldsay, first “. . .in the order of things”, if not temporally. Mind was, on Dennett’s account,immanent in Locke’s “. . .incogitative Matter and Motion. . .”: the universe, after all,created minds. We could claim that mind is the universe’s raison d’être, just as the oaktree is the acorn’s.

This necessitates a kind of gestalt-switch, preparing the mind for another revolution.Dennett notes Hume’s suggestion, that our world might be the work of a remorseless“stupid mechanic”, has been effectively restated by Smolin, who has postulated thatblack holes might create “offspring universes”, fabricating every possible materialconfiguration. As Dennett puts it, “In the course of eternity, you can [in design terms]go everywhere” (1995, pp. 178–179, my emphasis). This, though, suggests a verydifficult “fork” for Dennett. As a naturalist Dennett presumably would not wish to

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claim that it is an a priori verity that matter, regardless of its configuration, can neveracquire those characteristics described by libertarians. Dennett counsels those whocannot believe something to “try harder”: we could, then, presumably try harder tobelieve that we might be truly free and responsible. The determinist, after all, doessomething odd when they imagine themselves “accepting” determinism and “reject-ing” libertarianism, having “weighed” the evidence. It is perhaps only the assumptionthat libertarians are unspeakably naive which prevents a careful consideration of whata caused acceptance of determinism could amount to—a noise, a cosmic echo.

If there is a possible world in which material creatures are free in a libertarian sensethen the Earth may be that world, and we may be those creatures. This is wholly sepa-rate from claims regarding what creatures might do with their freedom: eat nuts underwater, alleviate poverty and usher in universal peace, or write defences of “natural”divisions. Whether we are in fact this free creature is an unknowable. This thoughtexperiment, though, creates a radically free creature standing outside of causation. ButDennett seems not only reconciled to our place as creatures constrained by biology,he fights for it to a degree which suggests an ideological motive.

Dennett frequently flirts with the language of the divine. God therefore can be con-ceived in ways “less concrete” and not “anthropomorphic” than is ordinarily thought,the “Universe itself” is thought by some the “Supreme Being”, the “intelligence” orGod necessary for a designed universe could be distributed and immanent in thatuniverse, and so on (1995, pp. 18, 133, 176, 180, 514–515, 520). Dennett (1993a,p. 214) even defines a pattern as any regularity “. . .recognizable-in-principle by someobserver or other up to and including what we might call the maximal observer: thewhole universe considered as a potential observer”. The similarity with our earlieraccount of Hegel’s “geist” is marked.

Why it should be only “probably” the case that we cannot pray to the “Tree of Life”,or why “God” (rather than the devil or nothingness) should be “in the details”, seemsstrange (1995, pp. 520–521): surely as naturalists we categorically cannot pray, andall that is in the details is more details. Equally strange is the conservatism inherentin Dennett’s regrets over the loss of languages and cultures, and his understanding ofSantayana’s love of Catholic ritual (1995, pp. 514–515). Dennett wishes to say thatthe world may be “. . .absurd in the existentialist sense of the term: not ludicrous butpointless, and the assumption is a necessary condition of any non-question-beggingaccount of purpose” (p. 153). But this (Hegelian) “purpose”, this existential justifi-cation, is based on an equivocation, the equivocation allowing Dennett to claim thatan engineering perspective unites the “the central biological concept of function”and “the central philosophical concept of meaning” (1995, p.185)—what somethingmeans is what it does, how it interconnects. Searle rightly stymies this. The heart hasno “function” aside from the normative importance we attach to it, “. . .the only factsare brute, blind physical facts and the only norms are in us and exist only from ourpoint of view” (in Dennett 1995, p. 399). It is, though, difficult to accept that the heart’s“function” depends on a perspective, but only because we shrink from contemplatingfull-blown determinism. If an inertial universe passes through configurations impliedin earlier configurations, then there are no “beating hearts”, only the roaring aftermathof an explosion. We think of our hearts as not being falling debris either because weare truly free, and therefore hearts are not falling debris, or because our thoughts are

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falling debris: very few self-defined determinists will stare into this abyss. This debrismight fall in “objective” patterns, but only for subjects themselves not debris. Wereject this on pain of granting yawning dogs physics qualifications: a dog might yawnthe syllables of an equation, after all. Meaning and function only exist for us, and onlyif we can justify carving the universe in a way that separates us from natural causation.If the universe just is, then necessarily it is only. But for Dennett the extant is neveronly; it is to be defended, with the parts deriving their significance from the place theyplay in the (perhaps not geist-free) whole.

In Rationality in Action Searle (2003, p. 271) suggests that some experiences mightbe characteristic of truly free creatures. Drinking a cup of coffee, or smelling a rose,we are conscious that it is we who are experiencing this, the experience is qualitativeand it forms part of a world of experience. The knowledge that one’s actions make anongoing difference in the world, coupled with the knowledge of one’s mortality, mightalso imply radical freedom: not Brook’s “autobiographical memory” simpliciter (2000,p. 252), (which Dennett does ignore) but the knowledge that one’s autobiography willstop. Dennett reacts vociferously to the suggestion by Fodor and Chomsky that con-sciousness and free will are mysteries (Dennett 1995, pp. 381–382), determined thatconsciousness will not be “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” (Dennett 2000, p. 369).It is difficult to see the source of the heat; these are, after all (by anyone’s account)opaquely complex phenomenon, as Seager says (2000, p. 95), “. . .perhaps [one of]the last areas where it remains possible to doubt the virtues of a naturalistic treat-ment”. Besides, Dennett concedes that his accounts are far from final. ConsciousnessExplained (1993b) is often dubbed “Consciousness Explained Away” (Ross 2000,p. 22), but Dennett is, of course, the source of the sharp remark in the work itself.

There is, though, an explanation of Dennett’s trenchant compatibilism, his Darwin-ian account of morality, his dismissal of the significance of consciousness and of hisconservative explication of the present. It is found in one of the oddest sections ofDarwin’s Dangerous Idea. Dennett describes Breughel’s Fall of Icarus, and Auden’sresponse to it, Musee des Beaux Arts. Icarus falls, and the world continues regardless.Dennett says, “This is our world, and the suffering in it matters, if anything does”(1995, p. 518). Such a remark might be typical of someone committed to advocatingthe most radical and selfless action imaginable. But in fact Dennett notes the chari-table deeds which are the alternative to self-satisfaction, and suggests that we pleaseourselves by “. . .not tampering with some current “default” principles that virtuallyensure that you will ignore all but the most galvanizing potential interruptions to yourpersonal life. . .” (p. 509). After all, “. . .every day, while trying desperately to mindour own business, we hear a thousand cries for help. . .How on Earth could anyoneprioritize that cacophony?” Instead, we make use of “. . .an utterly “indefensible” setof defaults to shield our attention from all but our own current projects” (p. 510). Smart(2003, p. 59) claims that accepting that heredity and environment made us is a barrierto “callousness and indifference”. This seems less than certain.

Arguably Kant subscribed humans to both the phenomenal and the noumenal worldsto separate morality from natural motives, such as sybaritic pleasure. The suggestionmust be that Dennett similarly subscribes humans so determinedly to the natural worldfor some motive. Indeed, we are doubly subscribed: we are invited to contemplate withequanimity a Laplacean universe, and also a Darwinian account of life as the operation

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of an algorithm; mutation, plus natural selection. These two accounts are not mutuallyexclusive, but it is interesting to note the mental gymnastics required to hold them inthe mind simultaneously. Every event of “natural selection” then becomes a merelyapparent contest, implied by the configuration of the universe and the physical laws.We may find Hume’s account of “cause” difficult, Darwin may represent [as Deweysuggested (Dennett 1995, p. 66)] a mental “stretcher”, but the notion of a universesusceptible to two fundamental explanations seems almost unimaginable. Dennett(2000, p. 338) claims that the question “. . .could evolution have done otherwise. . .isdivorced from classical determinism. . .in the free will debate. . .”. It is difficult to seehow it legitimately can be, however. A parallel problem arises in explaining conductgenerally. As Akins (2002, p. 227) says, from the interpretative intentional stance wecan say “. . .neural content be damned. . .”. After all, Dennett’s position is that inten-tions “. . .can exist as real patterns without having to be token identical to any billiardballs in the system of Humean causal relations. . ..[I]ntentions don’t cause anythingbelow their own level of abstracta. . .” (Ross 2002, p. 291). But (conversely) deter-minism means that whatever the neural content it was sufficient to produce everythingseen from the intentional stance. Similarly, if micro-causal determinism obtains thenDarwinian explanations are foolish shorthand arrived at by those denied the Lapla-cean perspective which would have identified every rutting stag (and every rut) in theuniverse’s first super-dense singularity.

Dennett’s pursuit of naturalism verges on the pantheistic, driven by a faith thatwhatever science and (importantly) scientism produces it cannot be contradictorybecause the truth is a priori consistent. But what results is an account of the naturalworld not only red in tooth and claw, but robbed of the agency which might make itotherwise. For of course, if the world is perpetually ill-divided then this must surely, inboth the colloquial and the Dennettian sense, be natural. After all, had Icarus workedhimself to death, rather than engineering a romantic plunge, the evidence is that theworld would have cared even less. Dennett’s account slides into a conservative ratio-nalisation of the present: he seems guilty of what Hegel was suspected of.

A naturalistic account of being in the world must surely be modest, and avoid bothprescriptivism and also trenchant defences of the present. Hegel’s account, understoodaright, disempowers every aspiring theoretician. All that is left is the practice of ourlives, in which everyman meets the philosopher as an equal. If Dennett wishes tomaintain his metaphilosophical position he must cease his populism. If, alternatively,he suspects that the universe has produced something categorically separate from itsblind processes, modesty dictates that he must also assume that it perhaps producedmore of these creatures: perhaps billions of them.

Conclusion

Dennett faces two interconnected difficulties. Firstly, there is what seems to be an irre-solvable contradiction between his account of the human condition and his own philo-sophical practice. Secondly, his claims regarding what physical determinism wouldmean for us seem to involve a commitment to some form of deism, which sits badlywith everything else he has to say about religiosity.

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To deal with the first of these; like Hegel, Marx and many others, Dennett is a processtheorist. Man is to be understood as part of a process, rather than as an agent categori-cally distinct from the natural world. Such a process might be driven by mutation plusnatural selection, God’s progress in the world, the motor of economic imperatives orsomething else. Such a process theory makes a near-placeholder of the individual. Atheoretical commitment of this sort, however, is compatible with any position in thefreewill/determinism debate. After all, regardless of metaphysical commitments it issurely correct that we are born, speak and (perhaps) write a little, and then die. All wehave are our minds, and on almost anyone’s account these are not entirely our own.

A similar perspective often underpins the view taken of the specific practices intowhich humans are inducted. Oakeshott (1933/1985) conceived of all human experiencein terms of “modes”, such as history, science and philosophy. If all possible experienceis located in such “modes” every human is dependent on these genres, which consti-tute the human story. Kuhn (1996), of course, revolutionised the philosophy of sciencewith his account of the dependence of individual scientists on the practice of science.Kuhn’s revolutionary scientists (like Hegel’s Christians) are essentially fortunate tolive when they do; they might just as easily have been “normal” scientists, workinghard at solving routine puzzles.

Once man is subordinated to a process and to practices criticism takes on a partic-ular character. Practitioners can certainly defend their activity from obvious mistakes,such as category errors. Within practices participants can also raise objections whichare seen to be prima facie valid. Anything more than this, however, seems impos-sible. If our practices are by far the better part of us science and philosophy mustprogress through the normal business of narrow claims, and equally narrow rebut-tals. Practitioners must serve the activity, rejecting fraud and writing transparently,everyone subjecting themselves to the disciplinary standards, and ideally each caringnot a jot whether the dialectical process results in the annihilation of their particularcontribution.

Of course radical and discontinuous change is possible in a world of process andpractices. But these events are the result of the process, and as Kuhn says are “. . .notto be had for the asking” (1996, p. 34). We can theorise how revolutions take place,but we can only participate in them through participation in a world which existedbefore we appeared, will continue after our death and would scarcely have skipped abeat had we not been born. The “Hegelian” understanding of Christ’s significance and“Einstein’s” theory of relativity would have retained their content, but changed theirtitles, had these geniuses not been born: the world was pregnant with these revolutions.

Dennett, unfortunately, seems to be neither a detached theorist nor a practitioner ina practice. For him our minds must be reconfigured, fundamental error is everywhereand entire practices are malfunctioning. The links between practices and the widerworld are also not serving our interests, and so instrumental and manipulative writingis necessary. It is, of course, extremely difficult to see how someone who believes inpractices and process, particularly someone who lauds science (the most variegatedand yet disciplinary of practices), can write populist and cross-disciplinary works.Indeed Dennett most resembles, to use the term popularised by Rorty, the geisteshis-toriker, the sage who tells the world what to think about itself. But if we accept what

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Dennett has to say about man’s contingent dependency on the world this is not a roleanyone can responsibly fulfil.

Dennett’s second difficulty arises from the claim that physical determinism mightwell apply throughout the universe and within our bodies, and that this would nev-ertheless leave man competent and free. Anyone producing a fundamental theory ofbeing must obviously ask themselves whether their own practice is consistent withtheir claims about the world. It is, after all, trite but true that any book which claimsthat humans cannot write books had best have a non-human author. The author whoaffirms the possibility of determinism makes a sign of “affirmation” which could nothave been otherwise, given the universe’s composition. This seems no act at all.

Hobbes, with whom Dennett shares so much, faced this problem squarely, and itis instructive to see how he solved it. Galileo’s notions of inertia and momentum haddisplaced the last vestiges of teleology in Hobbes’s mind. This for Hobbes was literalphysical displacement, although “unstudied men” cannot conceive of such a thing.But a physical impact, like that of Galileo’s locutions on Hobbes’s brain, can surelyknock a good idea out of one’s head, or put a bad one into it. Leviathan, in Dennett’svernacular Hobbes’s “brainchild”, would seem on the face of it to be a work of veryuncertain worth. But as Hobbes says in Of Liberty and Necessity, all of the multitu-dinous chains of cause and effect in the world (which include the chains connectingHobbes and Galileo) join together “. . .in the first link God Almighty” (1654/1999,p. 20). It is no trivial fact that Hobbes devoted much of Leviathan to the nature of aChristian Commonwealth. Hobbes could give an account of his own theorising whichwas consistent with his account of being: the world is not God-forsaken.

Dennett, like Hobbes, imagines that his brain may be inseparable from the grosserbodies in movement which comprise the inertial universe. Neurological events and theoutward signifiers of these (spoken and written words) might be categorically indis-tinguishable from tides and volcanic eruptions. The mechanisms of natural selection,and the theories of those who fancy they stand at its peak, then become reverberations.But Dennett also plainly believes that he can infer that he is a theorist from his ownsubjective experience of seemingly theorising: a remarkably Cartesian position forsomeone wedded to anti-Cartesianism.

The key to understanding Dennett’s view of determinism is perhaps found in oneodd remark. Nietzsche’s idea of a universe that eternally recurs is for Dennett “. . .thesickest idea that anybody ever had” (1995, p. 311). It is very difficult to see why auniverse which recurs is more troubling to Dennett than the deterministic universehe contemplates with such equanimity, even enthusiasm. But then one remembersDennett’s scattered homage to Hegelianism, in the discussion of the possibility of aGod immanent in the universe, and the universe as a possible observer. It is then hardto avoid the conclusion that Dennett thinks that something (or someone) not presentin Nietzsche’s schema gives life and motion to our universe.

“God” is a problematic term for naturalists, but in an ecumenical spirit we canaccept any word so long as we are clear about the characteristics of the referent.Dennett is indifferent to “the Ground of All Being”. It is difficult to see how he couldbe similarly indifferent to, “That which ensures that a mere effect in a deterministicuniverse can meaningfully theorise its own cause”, or “That of which everything elseis a mere extension”. If determinism applies universally it is this, perhaps unnameable

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power, which underwrites Dennett’s project and predestines him to write as he does.It would seem obvious that an account could and should be given of this, our almamater. Perhaps Dennett is predestined to give one.

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Documents

Dennett’s deism