In accomplishing the formidable task of assessing the truth of
something as complex as a story, a reader has to decide between two
alternatives. On the one hand, she may decide that the tale she finds herself
listening to, reading, or viewing is being related by a teller who has (or
purports to have) firsthand knowledge of the characters and situations, and who
consequently relates the tale as fact. On the other hand, she may decide that
she is experiencing the weaving of a fantasy, in which case the teller, as
author of this fiction, would not have had first-hand knowledge of the story's
events.[1]
To read Jorge Luis Borges' short story “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote,” as fiction is, according to David Lewis, to apply an “intensional operator” which one might consider “a restricted universal quantifier over possible worlds” (“Truth in Fiction” 264).[2] Such restricted quantification is necessary for fulfilling the requirement that Pierre Menard's story occupy a world outside that in which the tale's recipient is located because its teller lacks first-hand knowledge. And the events that occur within the narrative frame would also appear to require such a move. In the history related by Borges (via an unnamed narrator), Pierre Menard believes himself capable of performing the incredible act of composing, as though for the first time, the text of Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote. In order to actually perform this Herculean task—one that would undoubtedly be impossible in our world—Menard would need to find himself (physically) in some world accessible from ours, but nevertheless located squarely outside its boundaries. However, in order to believe himself capable of doing so, he would need only locate himself in that area of logical and/or ordinary space most capable of supporting his belief state. Neither of these alternatives is a simple task to accomplish or analyze, but deciding whether to take the work as fact or fiction goes a long way in selecting between actual or possible worlds.[3]
Because fiction concerns events that
have not actually occurred in the precise ways represented, it seems plausible
to consider reasoning about fiction as similar in method to counterfactual
reasoning (TF 269). David Lewis offers his theory of counterfactuals as one
particularly suited to the consideration of fiction because it involves worlds
external to ours. In such worlds, “causal dependence among events […] may be
analyzed simply as counterfactual dependence” (Lewis, “Causation” 165).
However, the peculiarities of the story with which we are concerned, that of
Pierre Menard, involves his entertaining (strange) beliefs about himself, and
its analysis seems therefore to require something beyond his (self) location
within a counterfactually determined world or set of worlds. Rather, the de
dicto state of affairs that results from mere (self) location in a world
requires an additional mechanism for registering Menard's attitudes about
himself, specifically, his de se beliefs. By identifying the
counterfactual propositions that locate the set of Menard-worlds (M-worlds) and
then transforming them (via centered worlds) into a property that he might then
self-ascribe, this essay will provide a deeper understanding not only of the
relation of our actual world to that inhabited by Menard, but also of the
dynamics involved in his adoption of de se beliefs within a
counterfactually constructed world.
The “intensional operator” proposed
by Lewis (referenced above) picks out the set of worlds in which Menard's
abilities are possible. It would at first appear, from Menard's declaration,
“The task I have undertaken is not in essence difficult,” that a
necessity (rather than the less restrictive modal, possibility) operator would
be required for selecting worlds. This
seems tenable in light of Lewis's assertion that “[w]hat is essential to
something is what it has in common with all its counterparts; what it nowhere
vicariously lacks” (Counterfactuals 40). Nevertheless, one is
simultaneously prodded toward adopting a less restrictive modality based on the
narrator's attitude toward his readers. He assumes incredulity on their part in
response to his relation of Menard's literary talents. In fact, in response to
Menard's dismissal of a particular method of accomplishing the task as “too
easy,” the narrator responds, “Too impossible, rather!, the reader will say”
(Borges 91), and this anticipated skepticism regarding the veracity of the
narrator's claims suggests that Menard's world cannot manifest as vastly
different from our world. Despite this, the world would still need to be
different enough from ours to support the modest level of success Menard
reportedly garnered as a result of his pains. He was able to complete “the
ninth and thirty-eighth chapters of Part I of Don Quixote and a fragment
of Chapter XXII” (90). This method reasoning about those possible worlds in
which Menard's story is likely to find support squares well with Lewis's advice
that it is necessary to “depart from actuality as far as we must to reach a
possible world where the counterfactual supposition comes true” (TF 269).
Hence, M-worlds might be selected based on the Lewis's model of
counterfactually derived accessible worlds.
In Counterfactuals, Lewis
provides a model involving sets of worlds accessible from the actual world and
represented as concentric “spheres of accessibility”[4]
centered on or surrounding[5]
the actual world and arranged in order of accessibility therefrom. Each sphere
comprises a set of worlds that stand in a certain counterfactual relation to
the world of the reader—the actual world. The counterfactual proposition (if X
were true, Y would be true) encapsulates the condition that determines the
degree of accessibility that can be granted to each sphere. The resulting
schematic places the worlds that are
most similar to the actual (in physical laws, attributes, content, etc.) in
closer ontological relation to the actual world upon which they are all
centered. Each concentric sphere in effect encapsulates our world, and each
successively less accessible set is a superset
that contains all previous ones, so that the intersection of all the
counterfactual sets of worlds is the actual world. The spheres, in short, form
a nested set (Counterfactuals 14). For reasons cited above, it seems
desirable that the Menard fiction should belong to a set of worlds that is
located ontologically close to ours, and it turns out that according to Lewis's
schematic, this might actually be indispensable. As we have realized, it is the
standards of similarity that determine the accessibility of the spheres. Since
counterfactuals are similar to strict conditionals,[6]
the compound that would determine the location of the set of worlds that
support the claims made in Pierre Menard's history would amount to a strict
counterfactual.[7]
The Lewisian model proves its consistency in that the strictness of the
counterfactual varies inversely with the standards that determine the worlds'
degree of similarity, and less stringent standards have the effect of
“bring[ing] more worlds into accessibility” while also making it “more difficult
for anything to hold at all these worlds” (14). Since the sets that are farther
away from our world are in that position based on their levels of
accessibility, it follows also that the antecedents and consequents occur
together far less frequently as one proceeds “outwards.” Then, Lewis's limit
assumption would guide us toward the closest as the most suitable set of
worlds for Menard's history, for “[i]f the consequent of a counterfactual holds
at all antecedent worlds within some antecedent-permitting sphere around [the
actual world], then also the consequent holds at all antecedent-worlds in the
smallest antecedent-permitting sphere” (20). What follows from this is that in
order to determine the set of worlds in which the fiction of Pierre Menard is
tenable (if such determination is at all possible), we need to construct a
counterfactual conditional whose truth value,[8]
can be computed based on the attributes of various possible worlds accessible
from our own.
An M-world accessible from the actual world of the
reader can be located based on the following counterfactual: If Menard were
able to configure his frame of mind in such a way that it exactly matched that
of Cervantes, then he would be able to compose verbatim, but as if for
the first time, the text of Don Quixote. The framing of the antecedent
derives from the specificity of Menard's desires concerning his project. In
proceeding toward his goal of composing the Quixote, the narrator makes it
clear that Menard eschews the puerile method of being (or becoming) Cervantes;
he opts rather for a more difficult method of achieving his objective. Borges
writes, “Being, somehow, Cervantes, and arriving thereby at Quixote—that looked
to Menard less challenging (and therefore less interesting) than continuing to be
Pierre Menard and coming to the Quixote through the experiences of Pierre
Menard” (Borges 91; emphasis in original). The phrase “frame of mind,” used
in the counterfactual antecedent, is suggestive therefore because it introduces
the concept of attitudes and their objects, a category that subsumes that of
the beliefs Menard entertains about himself. It is not surprising then that it
is in his essay on “Attitudes De Dicto and De Se,”[9]
that Lewis provides insight into the implications of achieving a mental state
very similar to that sought by Menard. Lewis explores the relationship between
two belief states: one held by a person, Heimson, who erroneously believes he
is David Hume, and one held by Hume himself who is correct in his belief that
he is Hume. Lewis writes, “Heimson may have got his head into perfect match
with Hume's in every way that is at all relevant to what he believes. If
nevertheless Heimson and Hume do not believe alike, then beliefs ain't in
the head!” (ADDS 142). The difference, of course, is that Menard
does not actually believe that he is Cervantes—but the analysis by Lewis
nevertheless applies because it confirms that what Menard wants is possible by
allowing him to adopt the configuration of Cervantes' psyche while
circumventing the logical fallacy of his becoming Cervantes. At this
point, the idea of identity across possible worlds, or the Lewisian
alternative—counterpart theory—seems relevant to the discussion. Menard's
narrative faces the challenge of having an empty existence if the
counterfactual argument that determines its location in logical space turns out
to be vacuously true: that is, if no worlds exist in which he is able to
configure his mind to match that of Cervantes and yet remain Pierre Menard.
The possible worlds conceptualized as comprising logical space is populated by
beings considered by some to have at least the capacity of being identical to
each other. Lewis, who dissents to this trans-world-identity paradigm, offers
an alternative. He writes, “I shall assume that each subject of attitudes
inhabits only one world. He may have counterparts to stand in for him at
other worlds, related to him by bonds of
similarity, but he himself is not there” (ADDS 517). From this
perspective, beings in possible worlds may occupy roles akin to others in other
worlds; yet, rather than having one person existing simultaneously in multiple
worlds (trans-world identity), these beings exist as each other's counterparts.[10]
Counterpart theory works to Menard's
advantage, for even if the set of worlds in which his story, as fiction, is
located did not already contain its own version of Cervantes (which it does),
the controversy surrounding the possibility of trans-world identity raises
doubts about the conceivability of any
world in which Menard's counterfactual antecedent is tenable. Lewis's
alternative counterpart theory provides us with more conceptual options,
allowing us to hypothesize a world in which Menard exists as other than himself
(that is, as a counterpart in possession of those abilities that are impossible
at our world) while allowing Cervantes to exist in a relationship of
self-identity across worlds.[11]
This hybrid model also supports another important aspect of Menard's history:
the fact that he does not claim identity with Cervantes. In fact, Menard
himself advocates a kind of strange hybridity when he charges his postmodernist
rivals with writing fiction that is “good for nothing but […] captivating us
with the elementary notion that all times and places are the same, or are
different” (Borges 90-91). The text advocates, rather, the cohabitation of
(degrees of) temporal difference and similarity, exemplified by his desire as
Pierre Menard to enter into a state commensurate with Miguel de Cervantes, and
the conflation of counterpart and trans-world identity fortuitously allows this
desire to remain feasible. This analysis leads to a situation in which at least
one set of worlds is configurable that supports the counterfactual antecedent
formulated above. It remains, now, to be shown whether the consequent has any
hope of holding in the antecedent worlds, and this requires, further, an
analysis of the belief state in which Pierre Menard finds himself.
Representationalist philosophies and
psychologies of belief formation suggest that this attitude might result from a
reconfiguration of one's brain to accommodate the particular fact or
propositional content with respect to which one adopts the attitude of belief.
William G. Lycan gestures toward this paradigm that entertains a quasi-physicalization
of beliefs (as states of the subject's head) in a way that reflects their
content (as propositions) by describing belief as a dyadic relation formed
between a subject and a nominalized complement ascribed to that subject (Lycan
6–7).[12]
Berating the lack of attention paid by possible-world theorists to the
psychological components of the truth conditions of belief sentences, he notes
that “[i]t would be strange if the ontology of belief and the logical form of
belief-ascriptions had nothing to do with each other”[13]
(7). In our story, Menard's belief ascription takes precisely the logical form
of the antecedent of the counterfactual (cited again below) whose truth value
would determine the existence of the set of worlds that includes his. This
antecedent (if Menard were able to configure his frame of mind in such a way
that it exactly matched that of Cervantes) expresses a
counterfactual proposition, and it is propositions that generally fill
the object slot of an attitude (Feit 7).[14]
The challenge, then, is whether it is possible to nominalize the situation
described by Menard's counterfactual antecedent and then manipulate it in a
certain way so that, as he self-ascribes the particular belief it contains, he
also self-locates to that world.[15]
The representationalist
conceptualization of belief is roughly translated as the fact of having stored
in the brain or psyche a particular token that is the nominalization of the
content of a certain proposition. It accomplishes (in theory) the unity of ontology
and logical form toward which Lycan gestures above, and in doing so represents
the act of belief ascription as a sort of etching of logical form into the
neuronal configuration of the brain. As Greg Janzen notes, representationalism
“is tied to a certain naturalizing project” involving the explanation of
consciousness attitudes such as beliefs as “complex information-providing
entities housed in the brain” (138; emphasis added). Therefore, when our
narrator quotes Menard's letter in which he avers, “I can premeditate
committing it to writing, as it were—I can write it,” that verb “premeditate”
refers to the sort of consideration or contemplation that, in informing Menard
of his ability to perform the given task, precedes (or coincides with—perhaps defines)
the adoption of a belief. Further, the verb also suggest that a psychological
process involving the construction of Menard's intent might be taking
place, accompanied by a reconfiguration of his brain or psyche that
precipitates his final assertion, “I can write it” (92).
The text contains certain other psychological hints that the representational method of adopting propositional attitudes (as impressing logical form upon the brain) is applicable to Menard—but in ways that introduce problems related to de dicto versus de se attributions. As a denizen of the twentieth century, Menard's achievement of Cervantes' seventeenth century style is interpreted as “an admirable (typical) subordination of the author to the psychology of the hero” (93). First of all, the looseness of the term “psychology” makes it less than obvious that this “subordination” occurs as a result of alteration to the author's brain itself, or merely to some epiphenomenological mind or psyche.[16] But a more troubling problem is that the use of the adjective “typical” generalizes the sentence's evaluative content beyond its application to Menard—a desirable trait of any theory of belief, but one that underscores the de dicto status of his counterfactually derived set of accessible worlds. And a similar problem arises when referents for the terms “author” and “hero” are sought, for their non-specific nature points again toward the de dicto.
Let us return to the counterfactual antecedent (along with its consequent in those worlds in which they occur together), which forms an axis via which the M-world(s)' accessibility from the actual world is gauged, and attempt a connection with the representationalist view of belief. It might be useful to think of this antecedent as expressing a representational belief and then to ask whether such an entity can be operationalized; that is, whether the purely psychological can be shown to manifest physically. This question is motivated by Perry's observation that “change in beliefs seem to explain […] change in behavior” (3), and the text appears to affirm this, for Menard writes, “My general recollection of the Quixote, simplified by forgetfulness and indifference, might well be the equivalent of the vague foreshadowing of a yet unwritten book” (Borges 92). What he describes is the glimmer of psychological substance that is both the impetus and the intention to write, and impetus as action or proto-action gestures toward a connection between psychological belief and those behaviors that support or exemplify it.
Enter the interpretationist approach as a rival of representationalism that offers a behavioral method of determining belief by founding its ascription upon those actions that demonstrate (or imply) the existence of that belief (Burwood et al. 98). The emphasis placed by each on action (interpretationism) and inscription of logical form (representationalism) forges an analogy between the two purported manifestations of belief—with, however, the interpretationist view boasting the advantage of an empirical component that allows—even demands[17]—direct observation and falsifiability of the belief claim. Though advocates of each would likely eschew a fusion of these perspectives, their alliance is favorable at least for our progress toward locating the M-world. By combining these two approaches, we seek to make a judgment about Menard's belief state that also performs an oblique analysis of the truth conditions of our counterfactual. For if behavior can be shown to confirm belief, then the consequent of Menard's counterfactual (then he would be able to compose [...] Don Quixote) might be verified. Therefore, when the text says “he undertook a task of infinite complexity [,] dedicated his scruples and his nights 'lit by midnight oil' to repeating in a foreign tongue a book that already existed; when it goes on to say, “[h]is drafts were endless” and Menard, in his own voice, describes the components of the task as a game that “first allows me to try out psychological variants” on the text and then “forces me to sacrifice them to the 'original' text,” this is a demonstration or rendering of his belief into action (Borges 95, 93). He represents himself as truly performing the task: composing the Quixote without copying or transcribing Cervantes' version, for he makes it clear that his task involves sacrifices of his “psychological variants” to the “original text,” arrived at “by irrefutable arguments” he presumably has with himself during the process of composing his Quixote (93). He represents himself performing all the rigors of the act, and at this point we might truly have located a world in which the truth conditions of Menard's counterfactual are realized.
The text contains certain other psychological hints that the representational method of adopting propositional attitudes (as impressing logical form upon the brain) is applicable to Menard—but in ways that introduce problems related to de dicto versus de se attributions. As a denizen of the twentieth century, Menard's achievement of Cervantes' seventeenth century style is interpreted as “an admirable (typical) subordination of the author to the psychology of the hero” (93). First of all, the looseness of the term “psychology” makes it less than obvious that this “subordination” occurs as a result of alteration to the author's brain itself, or merely to some epiphenomenological mind or psyche.[16] But a more troubling problem is that the use of the adjective “typical” generalizes the sentence's evaluative content beyond its application to Menard—a desirable trait of any theory of belief, but one that underscores the de dicto status of his counterfactually derived set of accessible worlds. And a similar problem arises when referents for the terms “author” and “hero” are sought, for their non-specific nature points again toward the de dicto.
Let us return to the counterfactual antecedent (along with its consequent in those worlds in which they occur together), which forms an axis via which the M-world(s)' accessibility from the actual world is gauged, and attempt a connection with the representationalist view of belief. It might be useful to think of this antecedent as expressing a representational belief and then to ask whether such an entity can be operationalized; that is, whether the purely psychological can be shown to manifest physically. This question is motivated by Perry's observation that “change in beliefs seem to explain […] change in behavior” (3), and the text appears to affirm this, for Menard writes, “My general recollection of the Quixote, simplified by forgetfulness and indifference, might well be the equivalent of the vague foreshadowing of a yet unwritten book” (Borges 92). What he describes is the glimmer of psychological substance that is both the impetus and the intention to write, and impetus as action or proto-action gestures toward a connection between psychological belief and those behaviors that support or exemplify it.
Enter the interpretationist approach as a rival of representationalism that offers a behavioral method of determining belief by founding its ascription upon those actions that demonstrate (or imply) the existence of that belief (Burwood et al. 98). The emphasis placed by each on action (interpretationism) and inscription of logical form (representationalism) forges an analogy between the two purported manifestations of belief—with, however, the interpretationist view boasting the advantage of an empirical component that allows—even demands[17]—direct observation and falsifiability of the belief claim. Though advocates of each would likely eschew a fusion of these perspectives, their alliance is favorable at least for our progress toward locating the M-world. By combining these two approaches, we seek to make a judgment about Menard's belief state that also performs an oblique analysis of the truth conditions of our counterfactual. For if behavior can be shown to confirm belief, then the consequent of Menard's counterfactual (then he would be able to compose [...] Don Quixote) might be verified. Therefore, when the text says “he undertook a task of infinite complexity [,] dedicated his scruples and his nights 'lit by midnight oil' to repeating in a foreign tongue a book that already existed; when it goes on to say, “[h]is drafts were endless” and Menard, in his own voice, describes the components of the task as a game that “first allows me to try out psychological variants” on the text and then “forces me to sacrifice them to the 'original' text,” this is a demonstration or rendering of his belief into action (Borges 95, 93). He represents himself as truly performing the task: composing the Quixote without copying or transcribing Cervantes' version, for he makes it clear that his task involves sacrifices of his “psychological variants” to the “original text,” arrived at “by irrefutable arguments” he presumably has with himself during the process of composing his Quixote (93). He represents himself performing all the rigors of the act, and at this point we might truly have located a world in which the truth conditions of Menard's counterfactual are realized.
But not so fast; there is trouble in
paradise. These beliefs that we have attributed to Menard are beliefs about
himself—de se beliefs, and his adoption of them are a self-ascription of
their content. Yet, according to John Perry, the problem of the essential
indexical threatens the view that “belief is a relation between subjects and
propositions conceived as bearers of truth and falsity” (3-4). The reflexivity
of the belief is of consequence to the truth value of a proposition: its truth
or falsity depends upon whether and how a person (Menard) comes to believe
particular things about himself. Menard's actions have indeed shown him to
self-ascribe, but some doubt exists as to whether self-ascription is in itself
enough to instantiate the de se relation. The mechanics of
self-ascription, which have yet to be explored, may shed some light on this
problem, and (again) Lewis provides a clue on how to proceed. Not surprisingly,
a similarity exists between the Lewisian account of counterfactuals as picking
out accessible worlds, and propositions as sets of possible worlds. Lewis
proposes a definition of properties that subsumes that of the proposition,
expanding the idea of a property to one that has the concept of location built
into it (ADDS 521). He writes, “to any proposition there corresponds the
property of inhabiting some world where that proposition holds” (516), but goes
further, however, to note that when one can “self-ascribe the property of being
in a certain perceptual situation,” that property “does not correspond to any
proposition, since there are worlds where some have it and others do not”
(520). His belief is that the property is a more fine-grained analytic tool
than the proposition because it is able to perform in a wider range of
situations.
This brings us to a problem
associated with Menard's self-location in the M-world. Since the counterfactual
propositions we chose correspond to a set of accessible worlds, the problem
arises how Menard is able to select his own M-world from the potentially
infinite set returned. Perry sheds light on this problem when, in analyzing his
own messy-shopper example, he notes that his actions to prevent the mess were
prompted not simply by the realization that John Perry was making a mess, but
by the concomitant belief that he was himself John Perry (Perry 4-5). How,
then, does our Menard know that the flaccid designator “Menard” of the
counterfactual antecedent (and the worlds it returns) refers to him? Lewis's
'perceptual belief' that allows a person (Lingens it was) to locate himself in
a given de dicto (or even de re) situation conflates with Perry's
identification of the need to invoke the essential indexical (Perry 5). In
Lewis's observation that some worlds “have it and others do not,” it refers
to an indexical relation, a self-ascription of “the property of being in a
certain perceptual situation.” This is what reduces the set of worlds—the set
of de dicto situations—to one de se world in which the subject
comes to identify himself with a given player, as a particular individual
“whose boundaries don't follow the borders of the worlds” (ADDS 519).[18]
Subjecting counterfactuals to a process similar to that performed by Lewis upon
propositions, therefore, results in a similar (counterfactual) property—one
that would select from among the set of accessible worlds the single one to
which our Menard belongs, and beyond that (or, perhaps, concomitant with it)
the single person—“Menard”—to whom our Menard can form a relationship of
identity. For Lewis this is indispensable, for “there is a kind of ignorance
that cannot be remedied by any amount of self-location in logical space” since
self-location is involved in the adoption of both de dicto and de se
attitudes (ADDS 523). However, with the de se, this self-location
is achieved via the ascription of a property that has a built-in locating
component. At this point, it becomes
useful to explore the concept of properties as objects formed in conjunction
with centered worlds, thereby facilitating their (self) ascription as the means
of self-location in possible or accessible worlds.
A centered world is a conceptual
mechanism for spatio-temporally locating an entity that possesses an
intentional state (Liao 11). It is defined in the Lewisian sense as an
instantaneous person slice—a person along with his/her temporal location—often
represented as an ordered pair: (person, time).[19] According to this model, a proposition as set
of worlds becomes centered upon a given person at a given time. The point at
which the proposition (as set of worlds) is identified is one at which the de dicto self
location has already been performed [20];
self-ascription is now on the verge of being performed, and de dicto is
now in the process of becoming de se. This is accomplished by the
Lewisian maneuver that transforms the proposition (qua set of worlds)
into the “property of inhabiting some world where that proposition holds” (ADDS
516). In this situation, the persisting person (corresponding to the temporally
constrained person upon which the world is centered) has the capacity to
self-ascribe the property into which the centered world qua proposition
has been transformed. The property now consists of a time-slice of some
objectified version of the subject performing the ascription—and this
ascription of the self to the self is what transforms the de dicto into
the de se (ADDS 521).
With Menard, the strongest evidence
of self-ascription is his declaration, “I have assumed the mysterious
obligation to reconstruct, word for word, the novel that for him [Cervantes]
was spontaneous” (Borges 92-93; emphasis added). While this sentence does not
explicitly express his affirmation of himself as the Pierre Menard of the
counterfactual accessible world, he does ascribe to himself the task whose
performance defines that “Menard.” Furthermore, he uses the indexical 'I,'
which Perry adamantly insists is indispensable to the adoption of a de se
belief (5). In addition to this, a weaker bit of evidence suggests that Menard
also self-ascribes a time and thereby a definite location, for the narrator
writes that he “dedicated his scruples and his nights 'lit by midnight oil'” to
the task. The time, “midnight,” is quoted, and all the narrator's quotes have
so far been attributed to Menard via his letters, unless otherwise indicated.
Since the narrator attributes this quote to no one in particular, it is
reasonably safe to consider it as uttered by Pierre Menard. Upon this evidence,
we may indeed say that he self-ascribes a property in the form of a world
centered upon “Menard,” thereby identifying himself with a temporally located
individual, and consequently adopting a de se belief toward the set of
accessible worlds generated by our counterfactual proposition.
Despite all this, the joke of the
text cannot be ignored: Menard repudiates everything that he affirms. He
describes the Quixote as “contingent,” “inevitable” and “impossible”
inside the same paragraph,[21]
and while he indeed writes the text he sets out to write, he destroys it as it
is written—apparently for the purpose of ensuring that it does not survive him.
In the end, all that does survive is his intent to write the text, which is all
the narrator can truly convey—but according to the interpretationalists, this
is not enough to underwrite belief. Rather, mere intent is belief cauterized,
action stifled in the moment of its execution. So the final world might be that
all we are truly left with in the actual world is evidence of the existence of
antecedent M-worlds at which none of the consequents hold.
References
Balderston, Daniel. 1993. Out of Context: Historical
Reference and the Representation of Reality in Borges. Durham: Duke UP.
Borges, Jorge Luis. 1939. “Pierre Menard, Author of the
Quixote.” Collected Fictions. Andrew Hurley
(Trans.) New York. Penguin, 1999.
Burwood, Stephen, Paul Gilbert & Kathleen Lennon. Philosophy
of Mind. Fundamentals of Philosophy
Series. John Shand (Ed.). London: UCL Press.
“Desire.” 1988. Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy. New
York: Routledge.
Feit, Neil. 2008. Belief about the Self: A Defense of the
Property of Theory Content. Oxford: Oxford
UP.
Janzen, Greg. 2008. The Reflexive Nature of
Consciousness. Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing.
Lewis, David. 1979. “Attitudes De Dicto and De Se.” The
Philosophical Review. 88(4): 513-543.
—. 1986. “Causation.” Philosophical Papers. Vol. 2.
New York: Oxford UP. 159-213.
—. 1973. Counterfactuals. Oxford: Blackwell.
—. 1983. “Truth in Fiction.” Philosophical Papers. Vol.
1. New York: Oxford UP. 261-280.
Liao, Shen-Yi. “What Good are Centered Worlds?” University
of Michigan. http://www-personal.umich.edu/~samliao/liao-cw.pdf [Link now broken, unfortunately]
Lycan, William J. 1988. Judgement and Justification. Cambridge:
Cambridge UP.
Miller, Alexander. 1998. Philosophy of Language. Fundamentals
of Philosophy Series. John Shand
(Ed.). London: UCL Press.
Perry, John. 1979. “The Problem of the Essential Indexical.”
Nous. 13(1): 3-21.
[1] The use being made here of the term
“first-hand knowledge” restricts its application to those events which have
occurred in a world shared by both the teller and recipient of a tale. See
Lewis' “Truth in Fiction,” p. 266.
[3] This importance of this decision is not to
be belittled. Pierre Menard was a real person who did, in fact, compose all the
titles listed in the first pages of the story Borges writes. The only
discrepancy between his actual corpus and that cited by Borges (via his
narrator) is “the subterranean, the interminably heroic production […] that
must remain—for such are our human limitations!—unfinished” (Borges 90). Daniel
Balderston offers evidence to this effect in the chapter “Menard and his
Contemporaries: the Arms and Letters Debate” in his text on representations of
reality in Borges' fiction.
[4] Or balls. Lewis notes that, mathematically
speaking, the objects described here as spheres are actually balls, since each
concentric sphere is meant to be a solid comprising a set of worlds whose
common bond is the possession of a certain degree of accessibility from the
actual world (Counterfactuals 7).
[5] Not to be confused with centered worlds,
which are distinct philosophical entities—though an argument for the similarity
of the uses to which both might be put will be made subsequently.
[6] That is, strict conditionals whose
strictness cannot be predetermined because of its variable nature. See Lewis in
Counterfactuals (4).
[7] One also wonders about the extent to which
the strictness of the counterfactual also interacts with its components, to
increase or decrease the accessibility of the worlds. This is based on the fact
that the counterfactual components must represent the extreme nature of the
claims made in Pierre Menard's tale—his self-ascribed properties or beliefs
about himself. Lewis allows for
similarity (or even identity) of pre-antecedent worlds to the actual world “at
the cost of a small miracle” (77), but it is not yet clear to me what happens
when the components that determine the accessibility of the counterfactual (set
of) worlds are so vastly dissimilar from what could occur in the actual world
that they would be deemed impossible.
[8] Truth value might here be relatively safely
replaced with necessity, for according to Lewis, “[n]ecessity is truth at all
accessible worlds” (5).
[11] A complication arises when one notes that
Menard's determination to remain himself while conceiving the work of Cervantes
forces him to alter a part of that work, at least in intention. The narrator
assures us that this determination to write as himself has obliged Menard to
“leave out the autobiographical foreword to Part II of the novel. Including the
prologue,” the narrator continues, “would have meant creating another
character—'Cervantes'—and also presenting Quixote through that character's
eyes, not Pierre Menard's” (Borges 91). This decision both respects and flouts
the trans-world identity theory, for while it seeks not to create another
Cervantes, respecting that one already exists (the historical Cervantes that
obtains also in the M-world), it ignores the identity relation that does need
also to subsist in both worlds between the (two) “Cervantes” of the prologue in
order to maintain the overall identity of the real Cervantes. Of course, one
may simply appeal to counterpart theory to avoid this difficulty. Menard's
assessment, “The Quixote is a contingent work; the Quixote is not
necessary,” supports this (92). However, this omission might yet be made
consistent with the foregoing identity-based analysis by noting that much of
the rest of the Quixote was also “left out,” since the world Menard inhabits is
one in which he is, before his death, able to complete only two full chapters
of the novel using his method. We could, therefore, simply count the abandoned
portion of the prologue as simply part of the section(s) Menard was unable to
complete.
[12] A revamping of the definition of belief as a
relationship between an agent and a proposition that emphasizes his particular
ontological view of the proposition.
[13] Perry problematizes this relationship in his
essay “The Problem of the Essential Indexical,” contending that “its solution
requires us to make a sharp distinction between objects of belief and belief
states” (4). It is worth noting, however, that this analysis might be guilty of
mingling otherwise distinct conceptions of the propositional object. As Lewis
notes, “Not everyone means the same thing by the word 'proposition.' I mean a
set of possible worlds, a region of logical space. Others mean something more
like a sentence, something with indexicality and syntactic structure, but taken
in abstraction from any particular language” (515). It is with the latter
description that this paragraph deals, although propositions as sets of
possible worlds will certainly be the focus of a significant portion of the
rest of the paper.
[15] This is feasible. It might be necessary to
alter the form of the counterfactual, changing it from a subjunctive into an
indicative mood, but since this proposition is meant to hold outside of the
actual world, its content would, in fact, exist there in precisely the form
necessary for Menard to adopt it as a belief upon which he could then act This
is in contradistinction to a propositional or intentional attitude that exists
as the object of a desire, which might innocuously remain in the
subjunctive (Routledge 30).
[16] The connection between [the reconfiguration of
Menard's brain to fit that of Cervantes] and [the reconfiguration of his brain
to reflect the adoption of the belief that (the above-mentioned reconfiguration
is both dispositional and occurrent)], is interesting and difficult. This
paragraph is more concerned with the second; it assumes the first—perhaps too
hastily.
[17] In the tradition of logical positivism,
interpretationists demand that belief be “truth-apt” (Miller 106).
[18] Presumably Menard does achieve the required
perceptual situation, since he proceeds to perform actions that reflect this.
The question arises, however, whether the “he” of the consequent takes on the
value assumed by the “Menard” of the antecedent once Menard (our Menard) comes
to associate himself with the name. What is its status as a variable: bound or
free, and to what degree? [Counterfactual: If Menard were able to
configure his frame of mind in such a way that it exactly matched that of Cervantes,
then he would be able to compose verbatim, but as if for the first time, the
text of Don Quixote.] Is the “he” also de dicto prior to Menard's
identification with the name “Menard”? It would appear so, and in that case the
assumption made earlier (that Menard achieves the required perceptual
situation) would be erroneous. And this would make self-ascription of the
belief all the more crucial for him, for without self-ascription, he would
actually not (know or believe himself to) be performing the task of
re-composing the Quixote. In that case, any self location he would have
performed so far would have been de dicto self location. As Lewis quips: “I
reject Perry's terminology: I say that all belief is 'self-locating
belief.' Belief de dicto is self-locating belief with respect to logical space;
belief irreducibly de se is self-locating belief at least partly with respect
to ordinary time and space, or with respect to the population” (ADDS
522).
[19] The Quinean view of centered worlds couples
the time coordinate with a three-dimensional space coordinate, but this runs
into the problem of how to account for more than one thing located at exactly
the same place and time—such as Schrodinger's cat and its ghost, for instance
(Liao 9).
[21] Menard writes, “Composing the Quixote in
the early seventeenth century was a reasonable, necessary, perhaps even
inevitable undertaking; in the early twentieth century, it is virtually
impossible” (Borges 93). See note 11 above for his earlier reference, in this
same letter, to the contingency of the Quixote.
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