Ontological Categories
Ontological Categories
Ontological Categories
Ontological
looks at ways in which philosophers might break with tradition
and explore some new ontological categories.
Categories
About the Series Series Editor
This highly accessible series of Elements Tuomas E. Tahko
provides brief but comprehensive University of Bristol
introductions to the most central topics
in metaphysics. Many of the Elements
Katarina Perović
also go into considerable depth, so the
series will appeal to both students and
ONTOLOGICAL
CATEGORIES
A Methodological Guide
Katarina Perović
University of Iowa
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https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108973861 Published online by Cambridge University Press
A Methodological Guide
Elements in Metaphysics
DOI: 10.1017/9781108973861
First published online: January 2024
Katarina Perović
University of Iowa
Author for correspondence: Katarina Perović, [email protected]
Introduction 1
References 68
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Ontological Categories 1
Introduction
Ontology – the study of the most fundamental categories of being – lies at the
very heart of metaphysics. The reason why it appears to be so central is because
it takes on the following questions: What sorts of entities are there? What
features do those entities have? How do they relate to one another? And so
on. The first question is both general and assuming. It is general in a sense that is
not to be answered by listing all the things that one can think of, for it asks about
the sorts of entities that there are, not just the sheer number of them. It is also an
assuming question insofar as it takes for granted that the world is not empty but
filled with entities and that these entities can in fact be categorized by appeal to
their distinctive features and roles.
So how might one go about addressing such vast questions concerning the
categories of being? In Section 1, I present a fast-paced historical overview of
some of the notable approaches. I start with the naïve linguistic realism of Plato
and Aristotle, who took natural language to be a reliable guide to the fundamental
categories of being. Then I briefly discuss the three main skeptical attitudes to this
form of ontological realism – Kantian skepticism, which questions whether the
categories of being are indeed part of the structure of the world or merely part of
our conceptual framework; skepticism about the types and numbers of categories;
and skepticism about natural language as a guide to what there is. These forms of
skepticism are still very much alive in contemporary approaches to metaphysics,
as is the ontological realism that resists them.
Section 2 tells the story of how one of the oldest, most disputed, but also most
developed ontological categories – universals – got introduced. I present the
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under one or more distinct ontological categories. This, I argue, tracks nicely
what metaphysicians already tend to do – that is, it tracks how they assign
distinct roles to distinct entities in their system and how they then employ such
entities in different places in their overall metaphysical system. Of course, not
everyone approaches ontological categories in this way; I conclude the section
by contrasting this kind of bottom-up approach to ontological categories with
descriptive and prescriptive top-down approaches.
Finally, in Section 4, I look at ways in which philosophers might break with
some traditional category divisions and explore new ones. The search for the
“correct” ontological categories, and the redrawing of different categorical
divisions, carries a certain weight only if one assumes some form of realism
about ontological categories. This is why I start the section by examining the
circumscribed way that the discussion between an ontological realist and an
ontological anti-realist about categories frequently plays out, and I find specific
aspects of the dialectical exchange wanting. The anti-realist attacks tend to
Ontological Categories 3
trivialize and misrepresent the endeavor that ontological realists are engaged in,
while the realists often end up alienating more scientifically minded philo-
sophers with their insistence that they are describing ultimate, immutable, and
metaphysically necessary features of reality. I suggest in place of such a form of
ontological realism, a more modest, cautious, revisionary form which might
accommodate some of the anti-realist’s complaints, without, however, giving
up on the realist’s overarching goals. I discuss the importance of trying to
become aware of our metaphysical “blind spots” and the value of exploring
new, nontraditional ontological categories and category systems. I argue that
part of what constitutes progress in ontological inquiry has to do with opening
ourselves up to different ways of conceiving of the familiar. Exploring new
ontological entities and systems of categories is integral to that goal. To this end,
I consider the example of Whitehead’s original temporal ontology of events and
objects, and the more recent approaches to gender categories as discussed by
Barnes (2019).
From the description given so far, the reader will see that the approach of this
Element is primarily methodological – it is a sort of “how to” guide to introdu-
cing ontological categories. My goal has not been to propose a single preferred
system of ontological categories; such a project requires a more wide-ranging
and in-depth discussion of a number of metaphysical problems, as well as
a comparative analysis of different ontological systems. My goal has also not
been to systematically describe the most commonly invoked ontological cat-
egories in metaphysical discussions, though a number of such categories do
make an appearance. And my goal has certainly not been to engage in a meta-
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about method (the way that such a list is arrived at) and accuracy (whether it
adequately captures the true divisions in the world).
those things in the correct categories, that is, under the correct Forms. Getting this
right is essential, for it is the only way to find the real divisions in nature, it is the
only way that one can, as Plato famously put it, “carve nature at its joints.”
Aristotle shared this general outlook with Plato, though he disagreed with the
Platonic understanding of universals as independently existing Forms.
Universals, for Aristotle, were not to be conceived in a Platonic way, as existing
independently from particulars in a realm of their own; rather, he thought of the
two types of entities as mutually dependent on one another. Aristotle’s grouping
of entities also involves a much more diverse lot than just particulars and Forms;
he lists the following ten as categories: substance, quantity, quality, relation,
place, date, posture, state, action, and passion. This list was meant to be
exhaustive and of the highest level of generality – for Aristotle, there was no
further higher category that all of these categories could be subsumed under. But
regardless of whether or not we find Aristotelian categories compelling today,
what is important to recognize is that both Aristotle and Plato assumed a certain
naïve form of realism about the categories: that is, they assumed that our
categorizations of entities picked out genuine features of the outside world.
We can immediately see one difficulty that naïve realist assumptions give rise
to: even a surface level comparison between Plato’s and Aristotle’s categoriza-
tions makes clear the discrepancy between what are arguably the most funda-
mental mind-independent features of reality. The two-category ontology of
particulars and Forms is clearly quite different from the ten-category ontology
described by Aristotle. What are we to make of such clashes between the
category systems within the realist framework? One possibility is to argue
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that one philosopher’s category system is the correct one, while the other
philosopher is simply wrong. Another possibility is to try reconciling the two
systems of categories by showing that the more numerous category system is
just an elaboration on the two-category one, and that it might be subsumed
under it, with some modifications. A further possibility still is to claim that they
are both wrong and that some other category system is the correct one. But the
central problem underlying the disagreement is one concerning whether they
have even employed the same method in arriving at their categorizations.
Indeed, how does one even go about deciding which categories there are?
Interestingly, there has been significant controversy about what guided Aristotle
in making the particular categorizations that he did, since he did not reveal his
reasoning. Studtmann (2021) highlights four dominant interpretative
approaches to Aristotelian categories – the question approach; the grammatical
approach; the modal approach; and the medieval derivational approach. I want
to draw attention only to the first two, since they seem to me to be the most likely
interpretations and the most relevant to this discussion. The grammatical
6 Metaphysics
objects. How might she sort things? She might decide to sort them by color, shape,
function, or she might decide to sort them by material that they are made out of, or
she might sort them by whether or not they make a sound, or she might sort them
by how pretty she finds them, or whether she finds them interesting or not, and so
on and so forth. Clearly, there are a great many different ways that humans can sort
things into groups and there are a great many different questions one can ask about
any given thing and any given assortment of things. The search for ontological
categories cannot be guided by such an unconstrained process of inquiry.
Thus, it should be clear that not just any type of question regarding entities
will be conducive to finding the most fundamental categories of being. Even if
one were to replace a child in the example discussed with Aristotle himself, the
category system that the latter came up with would not be a better one just
because it is devised by a famous philosopher rather than a child.1 Rather, what
1
A quick application of a version of the Euthyphro dilemma demonstrates this. If we ask, “What
makes Aristotle’s system of categories the correct one?,” it would not be good to answer, “It is the
correct one because it is chosen by Aristotle.” Hopefully, it is a better system of categories
Ontological Categories 7
will make one system of categories better than another will have to do, at least in
part, with the types of questions being asked about the structural features of the
world. The questions need to be well-defined and the problems that they raise
need to be well-articulated and motivated. It is only when metaphysicians
postulate entities with specified explanatory roles that it becomes possible to
compare the different types of entities and categories that philosophers employ
in their different explanations. Without a certain amount of agreement on the
philosophical problems that need to be addressed, and the type of methodology
for solving such problems that should be employed, fundamental ontology risks
looking like a solitary and idle endeavor, just one person’s way of sorting things
against another.
has had significant philosophical repercussions: on the one hand, we see that the
worry that there is no way of arriving at genuine mind-independent categories has
led philosophers to set their goals to more modestly defined descriptivist
approaches to metaphysical categories, where the aim is to describe the concepts
we use to understand the world, not the categories of the mind-independent world
itself. Husserl’s phenomenology and Strawson’s descriptivist approach to meta-
physics are two notable examples of this sort of attitude. On the other hand, the
same Kantian worry has led some philosophers toward an idealism which takes
the external world to be unknowable and the categories used to describe such
a world as completely misleading and even contradictory. In this camp, we find
British idealists such as F. H. Bradley developing vicious regress arguments
against the possibility of external relations in an attempt to show that ontological
pluralism is false and that ontological monism – a commitment to the existence of
because it describes the structure of reality more accurately, where the accuracy conditions are
specified independently.
8 Metaphysics
only one Absolute whole – must be the only true view of reality. Here too, we find
McTaggart’s notorious dismissal of the mind-independent existence of temporal
series, based on his quick reductio arguments against the A-series and the B-series
of time. Also going along with the idealist worldview we find Joachim’s defense
of the coherentist theory of truth with its obscure and mystifying reference to the
indivisible Truth that only applies to the Absolute whole.
Skepticism of the second type mentioned – the one that is aimed at the number
and types of categories introduced – is present in ancient Greek philosophy, and is
even more visible in the Middle Ages with respect to the ancients’ particular–
universal distinction. For instance, Aquinas, Duns Scotus, Ockham, and others
are often seen as early supporters of the one-category trope ontology. Building on
disagreements concerning the type and the number of categories introduced, one
can quickly arrive at skepticism concerning the method – whether there can be
a right way at arriving at the fundamental categories at all.
One can then see how the two types of skepticism just described influenced
the third type, which takes aim at natural language as a guide to ontological
categories. We see this very clearly in early Russell, with his break from
idealists and commitment to the careful logical analysis of language as
a guide to the correct logical structure of the world. Note that this third type
of skepticism is quite limited – it does not renounce the project of discovering
the correct ontological categories altogether. Rather, it merely corrects the
route; it requires that the project be carried out through careful logical analysis.
Early Wittgenstein in Tractatus, at least in parts, seemed to be on this track too.
In other parts, of course, he famously denounced the very possibility of meta-
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they were thought of as filling a dual role: they were thought of as an ontological
category as well as an entity that helped categorize other entities. I discuss the
“one-over-many” argument for universals as it was presented by Plato, as well
as the way that the argument was developed by a prominent contemporary
realist about universals – David Armstrong. Armstrong believed that his version
of “one over many” only offered a “preliminary case” for universals, not
a decisive one. His case for universals includes the argument from laws of
nature and the so-called negative arguments, from Russell, against the denial of
relational universals; and from Pap and Jackson, from the lack of adequate
paraphrases of apparent references to universals.
justice, beauty, and so on. The right answer to this kind of question, according to
Plato, had to take the form of a definition of X. And yet not just any definition
would do. The definition that Plato was after was not supposed to merely list the
sort of things that were considered to be X; nor would it have been sufficient to
explain just the meaning of the word “X.” What Plato wanted the correct
Socratic definition to do was to explain the very nature of the quality X: it had
to give a universally true description of its essence. It had to be a definition that
would guide us in deciding whether various new candidates were indeed X or
not.
Thus, right at the outset, Plato was making an ontological distinction between
many things that exemplify X, on the one hand, and the single entity X itself, on
the other. He contrasts the plurality of just actions with justice itself, the
plurality of beautiful things with beauty itself, and so on. In the same breath,
though, Plato stresses that what makes various things beautiful and just is their
partaking in the “absolute” beauty and justice:
Beauty itself, justice itself, the X itself are entities Plato called Forms and in the
passage quoted we already see at work the famous “one-over-many” argument
https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108973861 Published online by Cambridge University Press
for the existence of Forms.2 The argument proceeds from the assumption that
many different particular things – say, a, b, and c – are all beautiful, to the
conclusion that there must be a single Form of beauty that is responsible for
conferring beauty to the particular things. This movement, from the plurality of
things that have something in common to a conclusion that asserts the existence
of the entity that the plurality of entities shares in, is even more explicit in the
following passage from the Republic 596a–b:
We are in the habit, I take it, of positing a single idea or form in the case of the
various multiplicities to which we give the same name. . . . Let us take any
multiplicity you please; for example, there are many couches and tables. . . .
But these utensils imply, I suppose, only two ideas or forms, one of a couch
and one of a table. (Plato 1963, p. 820)
2
The name of the argument comes from Aristotle who referred to an argument that Platonists used
for the existence of Forms. Plato himself never actually used the phrase but he did sometimes refer
to a Form as being the “one over many.”
12 Metaphysics
We can see here that the distinction between Forms and particulars that partake
in those Forms marks for Plato a difference between two different ontological
categories that occupy two separate realms of being, and that have contrasting
features. Forms are the more perfect, single, independent, changeless entities,
whereas particulars are less perfect, multiple entities that have their natures in
virtue of their relations to Forms, and they are subject to constant change.
Why Plato held that Forms exist independently of particulars is not entirely
clear. His arguments for this seem to be based on the assumption that there are
perfect properties that particular things never fully exemplify, but only approxi-
mate to. Mathematics, and geometry in particular, provided Plato with plenty of
examples of this sort: for instance, one can speak of a perfectly circular shape
but whichever circle we draw it’s always going to have some irregularity and
imperfection. This led Plato to believe that things in the natural world can only
approximate the perfection described by a mathematician. Generalizing to all
particulars, he thought that they could only approximate to the perfection of
Forms; that is, even though perfect justice may never be encountered in any just
action that any one person performs, perfect justice, that is, the Form of justice,
must exist, as a perfect paradigm.
Plato described the relation between the particulars and Forms in two differ-
ent ways: sometimes he described it as participation or sharing in, and some-
times as imitation. In the first case, particulars participate in the Form or the
Form is somehow shared by particulars; the second case is more mysterious:
particulars are related to the Forms as imperfect copies are to the originals.
Since Forms possess the ultimate perfection and particulars are only poor copies
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Although it might seem that Plato’s Socrates is basing his decisions on ad hoc
judgments about which properties and relations appear worthy of a place in the
realm of Forms, the grounds for the distinction run deeper. This can be espe-
cially appreciated in Plato’s later writings, in which his earlier conception of
Forms as paradigms gives way to the conception of Forms as categorizers.
Therein, Plato makes it very clear that not just any collection of particulars
corresponds to a Form; only the collections that respect the “objective articula-
tions” in nature are eligible. This view is confirmed by the following passages
from the Statesman 262b–e, where Plato cannot stress enough the importance of
following the true classifications of things in pursuit of the correct Socratic
definition:
We must only divide where there is a real cleavage between specific forms.
The section must always possess a specific form. . . . [I]t is dangerous,
Socrates, to chop reality up into small portions. It is always safer to go
down the middle to make our cuts. The real cleavages among the Forms are
more likely to be found thus, and the whole art of these definitions consists in
finding these cleavages. (Plato 1963, pp. 1025–1026)
“Real cleavages” in the world are cleavages between the classes of genuinely
resembling particulars. To each of those classes corresponds a Form which
unites it. To avoid mistakes of misclassification one has to be careful and try not
to give in to hasty and arbitrary divisions dictated by one’s own subjective
interests. The example of such a mistake is:
The kind of mistake a man would make who, seeking to divide the class of
human beings in two, divided them into Greeks and barbarians. This is
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a division most people in this part of the world make. They separate the
Greeks from all other nations making them a class apart; thus they group all
other nations together as a class, ignoring the fact that it is an indeterminate
class made up of peoples who have no intercourse with each other and speak
different languages. Lumping all this non-Greek residue together, they think it
must constitute one real class because they have a common name “barbar-
ian” to attach to it. . . . A division setting Lydians or Phrygians or any other
peoples in contradistinction to all the rest can only be made when a man fails
to arrive at a true division into two groups each of which after separation is
not only a portion of the whole class to be divided but also a real subdivision
of it. (Plato 1963, p. 1026, italics mine)
there isn’t, there is no corresponding Form. Thus Forms turn out to be not just
one of the most fundamental ontological categories introduced, alongside
particulars, but are themselves are entities that sort and categorize.
This dual role that Forms are meant to play leads to a problem that is brought
out by Plato’s infamous Third Man Argument, an infinite regress argument
which exhibits the following structure:
(1) a, b, and c are all large because there is a Form of largeness L that they all
participate in.
(2) a, b, c, and L are all large because there is a Form of largeness L1 that they
all participate in.
(3) a, b, c, L, and L1 are all large because all of them participate in a Form of
largeness L2 – and so on ad infinitum.
Three main assumptions are at work in this argument. First is “one over many”
which states that many things being L must be explained by the existence of the
Form L that all of them participate in. The second premise is implicit and it has
been called the premise of “non-self explanation”; it simply assumes, that in
explaining what a, b, c, and L have in common one cannot appeal to the L itself,
but needs to appeal to a different Form of largeness, L1. The third premise which
is implied in this argument is the “self-partaking” premise; it assumes that the
Form L is itself L, or, in this particular case, that the Form of largeness is itself
large.
The correct interpretation of this argument has been debated at length by
commentators on Plato. My aim here is not to engage in detail with that debate,
but to merely point out the tension that it brings out very clearly – namely,
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Forms conceived as entities that confer to particulars their nature (in this
instance largeness to a, b, and c), then need some other Form to confer that
nature to them (since largeness is itself assumed to be large). But if there is
a different, higher-order Form of largeness that confers largeness L1 to L, then
we are off on a regress of higher and higher-order Forms.
It might seem that the easiest way to escape this difficulty would be to claim
that Forms have a dual role: the role of conferring qualities to particulars as well
as the role of conferring that very same quality to itself – the form of largeness
would itself be large due to this self-conferring feature. But the outcome of this
approach is a very real puzzle about what it means for a Form itself to be large or
beautiful or just, and so on (since these appear to be qualities that particular
things have, not Forms themselves). To avoid this puzzle, Plato would have to
embrace the alternative and claim that Forms confer qualities to particulars but
do not themselves exemplify such qualities – so the Form of largeness is not
itself large and the Form of beauty is not itself beautiful, and so on. This would
Ontological Categories 15
nicely avoid the Third Man regress altogether, leaving Plato with the task of
explaining of how the Forms confer beauty, justice, virtue, and so on to
particulars, if they are themselves distinctly not those things.
Although Aristotle disagreed with Plato on the nature of Forms and their
interaction with particulars, he did believe in the existence of some such entities.
He called them ta katholou, that is, universals. The main point of disagreement
was over Plato’s view of Forms as entities completely independent of, and
separately existing from, particulars. Plato saw Forms as entities in a realm of
their own, outside of space and time, and yet more real than particulars.
Aristotle, on the other hand, wanted to restore the balance in favor of particulars.
Particulars and universals are seen as mutually dependent entities; in fact, it is
an essential part of the nature of Aristotelian universals to be related to particu-
lars. The reason why Plato could not see this, according to Aristotle, was
because he understood Forms to be substances. In his earlier works, such as
Categories, Aristotle uses the term “substance” to refer to things that are neither
in anything nor said of anything; they are things like a particular horse or
a particular man. Thus, Plato’s mistake, in Aristotle’s view, was that his
Forms were more like particular substances than universals.
Although he harshly criticized the outcome of the argument – the existence of
Forms as such – Aristotle fully appropriated and relied upon the “one-over-
many” argument as proof of the existence of his own universals. Indeed, he
took the validity of the ontological version of the argument for granted and
employed different versions of “one over many” for different purposes. For
instance, Aristotle mentions a version of the argument when arguing for the
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‘One over Many’. I do not think that it proves straight off that there are
universals. But I think that it shows that there is a strong preliminary case for
accepting universals” (Armstrong 1997a, p. 101).
This “strong preliminary case” is built on the fundamental assumption that
facts of sameness of type are objective “Moorean” facts:
G.E. Moore thought . . . that there are many facts which even philosophers
should not deny, whatever philosophical account or analysis they gave of
these facts. He gave as an example the existence of his hands. We can argue
about the philosophical account which ought to be given of material objects,
such as Moore’s hands. But we should not deny that there are such
things. . . . I suggest that the fact of sameness of type is a Moorean fact.
(Armstrong 1997a, p.102)
Calling the sameness of type a “Moorean fact” makes it very clear what
Armstrong takes to be the starting point of the ontological debate. The apparent
sameness of type is something that all sides of the debate should agree upon,
Ontological Categories 17
according to him. The explanation of this fact, on the other hand, is the issue
about which philosophers disagree. Armstrong himself believes that apparent
sameness of type is due to genuine resemblance between particular things, and
that this resemblance is due to partial identity. The structure of Armstrong’s
version of the “one-over-many” argument is thus roughly as follows:
(1) Facts of sameness of type are Moorean facts, that is, objective facts that no
philosopher should deny.
(2) Apparent sameness of type should be explained.
(3) Genuine resemblance among different particular things is what gives rise to
the apparent sameness of type among distinct particulars.
(4) Genuine resemblance among different particulars is due to their having
something in common, literally sharing something.
(5) Universals are what different resembling particulars have in common and
what makes them resemble each other.
Plato’s version of “one over many” took for granted (1), (2), and (3) and directly
inferred (5) from (4).
Armstrong’s structure of the argument, on the other hand, is more careful and
allows opponents to disagree at various points. Contra Armstrong, one might try
to deny (1). This denial could be developed in different ways. Theoretically, one
might deny that there is even an appearance of sameness of type. This is a difficult
claim to pull off, since it goes against what most people report as their experience
of reality; thus, one would have to appeal to a very different phenomenological
experience of reality – one which does not recognize similarities and patterns in
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nature at all. Communication with someone who makes such a claim would be
impossible, since the very structure of our language and our thought relies on
a shared understanding of commonalities and patterns; thus, even the denial of the
appearance of such patterns would, in its formulation and communication,
presuppose the very things which are being denied. A more plausible denial of
(1) would acknowledge that there is indeed an appearance of sameness of type,
but deny that such an appearance captures a real phenomenon. In reality, the
claim would go, there is no genuine resemblance between particulars, no
Moorean fact of sameness of type; there is only an apparent fact. The interesting
question then becomes analogous to those that other skeptical attacks give rise
to – namely, how come there is a need to postulate the sameness of type when in
reality there isn’t one? What gives rise to such a pervasive illusion and what, if
anything, is to be found in its stead? An error theory of some sort is called for.
Armstrong was correct in his assessment that most philosophers would not
outright deny (1), and would indeed agree that there are many objective resem-
blances to be found in reality. But such philosophers may disagree about (2); that
18 Metaphysics
is, they may disagree on whether an explanation of such facts is necessary at all.
For instance, nominalists tend to reject outright the demand for an analysis of the
facts of resemblance and insist on taking them to be primitive. In Quine’s words:
“That the houses and roses and sunsets are all of them red may be taken as
ultimate and irreducible” (Quine 1997, p. 81) Along similar lines, David Lewis
remarks:
This is a forceful response to Armstrong, and, alongside him, to any realist who
insists on the need for an explanation of facts of resemblance. Lewis believes
that “making a place” for a phenomenon in one’s philosophical system ought to
count as a good enough response. He writes:
3
Of different scientific inquires, Armstrong favors physics, and believes that it will give us our
ultimate, most fundamental universals.
20 Metaphysics
type and that it is indeed due to genuine resemblance among different particulars –
but refuse to analyze this fact any further, and thus refuse to postulate the category
of universals. This is the move that nominalists such as David Lewis make when
they deny the existence of universals and take resemblance as a primitive.4
Nominalism
More specifically, Lewis defines properties as sets of all of their instances:
actual and possible. For him, redness is to be identified with the set of all red
things – across actual and possible worlds. Thus, the only kind of entity
admitted in Lewis’s ontology are particulars and classes of particulars. The
need to admit particulars in other possible worlds alongside this-worldly par-
ticulars was prompted by the coextension problem. If properties are nothing
more than sets of their instances, then properties that have the same extensions
(such as, say, the property of having a heart and the property of having a kidney)
amount to being the same property. By appeal to possibilia, Lewis was able to
address this difficulty: namely, although the set of people with hearts is ordin-
arily the same as the set of people with kidneys, this is considered to be merely
a contingent feature of people in this world; when one considers possible worlds
and their inhabitants, the two sets of instances come apart.
With the coextension problem addressed, Lewis still worried that his
account of properties was too undiscriminating, that it did not capture real
resemblance among its members. He wrote: Because properties are so abun-
dant, they are undiscriminating. Any two things share infinitely many proper-
ties, and fail to share infinitely many others. That is so whether the two things
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4
I am here using the term “nominalism” to refer to views that reject universals and construe
properties out of ordinary particulars. Trope theories are not nominalist in this sense, for they tend
to construe particulars out of property-instances. If we were to adopt the view that any denial of
universals is a nominalist view, then Lewis’s view as well as all the varieties of trope theoretic
views would count as nominalist. I am not using the terminology in this way, however, and am
following Armstrong (1978, 1980, 1983, 1997) in my usage.
Ontological Categories 21
fall under. To put it slightly differently: if there were no humankind, and thus no
spoken language, there would still seemingly be things that were red, square,
had mass or charge, and so on, and resembled other particulars in some of these
respects. Moreover, it seems plausible to assume that there are already resem-
blances and properties in the actual world that we do not yet have predicates or
concepts for. But a predicate or a concept nominalist would have to deny this –
the properties would only come into existence once we have found predicates or
concepts to describe them. Or, perhaps they would have to appeal to such things
as possible predicates or concepts that await our discovery of them. Either way,
this kind of nominalist story seems rather implausible.
Trope Theory
Trope theorists have argued for a midway position between the realist and
the nominalist approach, introducing a sui generis entity – a nonrepeatable,
singly occurring sort of property they call a “trope.” Trope theorists such as
22 Metaphysics
Some writers use the label “nominalist” for every denial of universals, but
this blurs a crucial distinction: ordinary nominalisms, in denying universals,
deny the existence of properties, except perhaps as shadows of predicates or
classifications. They recognize only concrete particulars and sets. . . . But the
trope philosophy emphatically affirms the existence of properties (qualities
and relations). Indeed, it holds that there is nothing but properties (or nothing
but properties and space–time). However, it insists that these properties are
not universals but, on the contrary, particulars with a single, circumscribed
occurrence. (Campbell 1990, p. 27)
entities filling this particular property role. In fact, for Campbell, “there is
nothing but properties.”
When it comes to the problem of sameness of type, Campbell is very much in
agreement with Armstrong that the problem is a serious one that a “responsible
ontology” ought to tackle: “The world is not a chaos, with every aspect, at
every minute, unique in character. Nor is it an undifferentiated blancmange. It is
a diverse and orderly cosmos displaying patterns of recurrence. No responsible
ontology can evade this very general fact; and no responsible ontology can
avoid offering its assay of this situation” (Campbell 1990, p. 28).
Thus, just like the realist and the class and resemblance nominalists men-
tioned, the trope theorist also recognizes the importance of the Moorean facts of
resemblance. Campbell clearly agrees with (1), (2), and (3) in Armstrong’s
version of the “one over many” outlined in Section 2.2. Unlike Lewis, and more
along the realist’s lines, Campbell recognizes the importance of providing an
“assay of this situation.” At the same time, Campbell believes that the realist’s
Ontological Categories 23
stating of the problem should be broken down into two related but separate
questions – the questions he refers to as “A” and “B.” The “A question” is about
the single particular object and its properties; it is a question that takes “one
single red object” and asks of it, “what is it about this thing in virtue of which it
is red?” The “B question,” on the other hand, is about two or more objects; it is
a question that takes “any two red things” and asks, “what is it about these two
things in virtue of which they are both red?”
Campbell points out that discussions of the problem of universals mostly
assume that the two questions are to be given parallel answers. This can be seen
from the fact that the realist gives the same response to A and B – that the single
thing is red in virtue of the universal redness present in it, and that two things are
both red in virtue of the universal of redness present in each. The conclusion that
Campbell draws from this is that: “The conflation of the A and the B questions is
responsible for making the realist position seem much more inevitable than it
really is” (Campbell 1990, p. 29). By disentangling the two questions he hopes
to show that the realist’s solution is not inevitable.
For Campbell, once the two questions are separated, universals start to seem
somewhat ad hoc as an answer to the A question. In his view, it amounts to
saying, without any further justification, that “a nature or a character of an item
can never be particular.” Or, if one is in search of a more “scientific” answer to
the question of what it is in virtue of which some object has a certain property,
the quest is delayed a little. The property in question will be explained away by
some other property (or properties) of the underlying structure and those by,
perhaps, other properties. However, Campbell insists, there will be a moment in
which the only available answer to a question such as “what is it about charge in
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virtue of which it is charge?” would be “its being what it is” (Campbell 1990,
p. 30). This sort of tautological response is inevitable at a certain level of every
system:
It is critical to the trope vision of the world that particulars can be natures, that
something can just be a case of charge, or colour, or whatever. Philosophers
are rightly suspicious of tautological-seeming answers to questions . . . but it
is important to remember that such answers arise at some point in every
system. The realist about universals has a substantial seeming answer to our
A question, even in the case of basic properties. But the rock bottom is not far
away. What is it about electric charge in virtue of which the presence of this
universal is necessary and sufficient for something’s having charge? Its being
what it is. (Campbell 1990, p. 30)
In other words, something’s having electric charge may come down to its
having the right sort of universal, but the next question about that universal –
“what is it about that universal that enables the particular to have electric
24 Metaphysics
What is it about two objects in virtue of which they are both red? Each
includes a red trope. What is it about those tropes in virtue of which they are
both red tropes? Their likeness to one another is what makes them tropes of
the same kind. Their natures make this the red, rather than the blue, or oblong,
kind. . . . What is being offered here, of course, is a Resemblance theory of
resemblance and recurrence, an assay in terms of resembling particulars, in
place of one involving identical universals. It takes resemblance to be ultim-
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Thus, resemblance of tropes themselves, just as in the case of class and resem-
blance nominalism, is to remain a given and not a further analyzable feature of
trope theory.5
5
For a more thorough discussion of trope theory, good starting points are Simons (1994) and
Maurin (2018).
Ontological Categories 25
and G-ness: N (F, G). Armstrong (1983, 1997b) singles out functional laws as
laws that have the best claim to be fundamental, and determinable universals as
the ones that ought to feature in them. One example of a functional law is
Newton’s law of gravitation: it correlates the determinables force, mass, and
distance, and under each of these determinables there is a class with possibly an
infinite many determinate universals that the law applies to.
Additionally, there have also been some prominent “negative arguments” for
universals. Such arguments are notable for making an indirect case for the
existence of universals by showing the extent of the difficulties that arise
without them.
been forced to admit this universal, we find that it is no longer worth while to
invent difficult and unplausible theories to avoid the admission of such
universals as whiteness and triangularity. (Russell 1912, p. 55)
a nominalist says this, they find themselves again having to explain what makes
all the resemblances, r(a,d), r(b,d), r(c,d), and so forth, resemble each other.
They may say that all of them resemble each other because each of them
resembles some arbitrarily picked resemblance r(x,d). In this way we get new
pairs of resembling resemblances: (r[a,d], r[x,d]); (r[b,d], r[x,d]); (r[c,d], r[x,d]).
And again, if in each case we ascribe the same resemblance, there arises a risk
for the nominalist of admitting a universal into their system. Therefore, they
have to say that each of the new pairs of resemblances are different particular
resemblances, and so forth. The conclusion that Russell draws from this is that
since the resistance to admit universals leads to an infinite regress of resem-
blance relations, a nominalist might as well accept the resemblance relation as
a universal in the first place. And once one universal is admitted, why not let
all of them in?
Immediately after his presentation of the regress argument for universals,
Russell notes that Berkeley and Hume failed to appreciate the force of this
argument because they thought of qualities rather than relations as exemplars of
universals. For Russell, at this time, the opposite is the case: it is relations that
are the main candidates for universals. Qualities can be treated, as the regress
argument itself suggests, in terms of resemblance of one particular to another;
relations, however, are irreducible. An attempt to rid oneself of relations leads to
an infinite regress of further relations of resemblance or likeness. The argument
thus proves very simply, according to Russell, that an ontology that admits of
only particulars is flawed – it overlooks the fact that relations are ineliminable,
and thus that universals are too.6
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6
There is a lot more that can be said about the origin and impact of Russell’s regress. For a further
discussion, see Cargile (2003), Rodriguez-Pereyra (2004), and Perović (2015). There is also an
important discussion about what makes for a vicious regress in Nolan (2001).
Ontological Categories 27
and z blue” (Pap 1959, p. 334). In other words, ordinary particulars x, y, and z will
have other characteristics besides color. For instance, let x be a red cube, y an
orange sphere, and z a blue sphere; in this case, the truth of statement (1) will
stand unaffected whereas the translation (1*) turns out to be false.
At this point a nominalist can try rephrasing statement (1) in a way that
specifies the respects of resemblance involved; Pap suggests something like:
(1**) “For all particulars, x, y, and z, if x is red and y is orange and z is blue, then
x resembles y in respect of color more than x resembles z in respect of color.”
The problem with this translation, Armstrong argues, is that “resemblance in
respect of color” seems to refer to a four-term relation holding between x, y, z,
and color – an option hardly attractive to nominalists, since they do not wish to
be committed to relational universals any more than they want to be committed
to property universals. Moreover, this paraphrase seems to introduce a reference
to an additional universal – color. A better paraphrase would probably be:
(1***) “For all particulars, x, y and z, if x is red and y is orange and z is blue,
then x colour-resembles y more than x colour-resembles z” (Armstrong 1978,
p. 59). Here, in place of “resemblance in respect of color,” which seems to refer
potentially to universal color, we have a predicate “color-resembles” which
might avoid such commitment if it is taken to be a primitive predicate. But then
concerns arise as to whether such a predicate is indeed sufficiently conceptually
simple to be treated as a primitive and how it is to be distinguished from other
resemblance predicates such as, say, shape-resemblance, temperature-
resemblance, and so on. All of these resemblances are distinct – but in virtue
of what?, challenges the realist.
Statement (2) “Red is a color” poses difficulties as well. One suggestion is to
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try and translate it along the lines of (1*), that is, as (2*): “For all particulars, x, if
x is red, then x is colored.” It is clear that (2) entails (2*) but in order for the
translation to be successful the reverse has to be true as well. To test whether
(2*) does entail (2), Jackson (1977) proposed consideration of an analogous
case, the case of statement (3*): “For all particulars, x, if x is red, then x is
extended.” (3*) is a true statement; in fact, it appears to be a necessary truth like
(2*). It seems, then, that if (2*) entails (2), then analogously, (3*) should entail
(3): “Red is an extension.” But (3) is clearly false. This, according to Jackson,
and Armstrong who follows him, proves that (2) says something more than (2*)
and that the nominalist hasn’t managed to capture in their translation that extra
something which (2) seems to express. In Jackson’s words:
If red’s being a color were nothing more than a matter of every red thing
necessarily being colored, then red’s being a shape and an extension would be
nothing more than the fact that necessarily every red thing is shaped and
28 Metaphysics
extended. And red is not a shape and not an extension. It seems that “Red is
a color” says, as realists maintain, something about red not reducible to
something about red things. (Jackson 1977, p. 427)
Of course, one need not take these arguments from the lack of adequate
paraphrases of apparent references to universals as demonstrating anything
more than a quirk of language. Namely, one may very well acknowledge that
our ordinary language contains apparent references to universals that cannot be
easily eliminated without loss of meaning, while at the same time maintaining
that such a feature of language should not be seen as ontologically significant.
It’s important to bear in mind that not one of the arguments discussed in this
section is put forward as a decisive argument for universals. These arguments
are presented here in order to illustrate what a cumulative case for one onto-
logical category – the category of universals – looks like. It’s inevitably a partial
story, as some arguments can be replaced with others, perhaps more compelling
ones. The “one-over-many” argument plays an important role in the overall
story being told. Plato thought of it as an obviously decisive argument for
universals, but contemporary metaphysicians today rarely think of it that way.
The reconstruction of Armstrong’s version of the argument was meant to show
the different places where other philosophers might disagree and dispute the
need to introduce the category of universals, and appeal to other categories and
explanations in their stead.
Drawing on the case study of universals from Section 2, this section discusses
some theoretical desiderata for building a promising system of ontological
categories. The first desideratum is to make sure that the metaphysical question
or problem that the ontological entity is introduced to address is well-stated and
motivated. This, as we will see, requires taking special care to avoid engaging
with metaphysical pseudo-problems. I then describe considerations of ontological
and ideological economy that tend to guide philosophers in their theory-building.
I also discuss the distinction between simple and more complex ontological
entities, and the widely held assumption that fundamentality and simplicity go
hand in hand in a metaphysical explanation. Sections 3.2.5 and 3.2.6 engage with
the meta-theoretical considerations about the relationship between ontological
entities, categories, and roles. Drawing on Oliver (1996), I make a case for
characterizing ontological categories by appeal to ontological roles they play in
solving certain metaphysical problems. I believe that this characterization best
accommodates the piecemeal, revisionary, bottom-up approach that I advocate.
Ontological Categories 29
distinctions, and so on. But there are definite similarities among them, too.
Consider, for example, the debate about whether or not we ought to be commit-
ted to causal relations, or bare particulars, or states of affairs, or temporal parts,
and so on. In each of these cases the starting point is a certain target phenom-
enon, a certain undeniable “Moorean fact.” It seems that when I push this table
I cause it to move – what is this due to? Is there something corresponding to my
sense that there is a causal relation between the two events? It looks as if exact
duplicates such as, say, these two qualitatively identical erasers, can share all of
the same qualities but still be two. What makes for distinctness between exactly
similar objects? All sorts of things seem to remain the same, even through
changes in properties: How can something change and yet remain the same?
In all of these cases, the starting point is a demand for an analysis of a certain
undeniable “Moorean fact.” A refusal to provide an analysis is, of course, an
option, but certain dialectical circumstances might make such a choice harder or
easier. If the majority view in a given ontological debate is that a problem is an
30 Metaphysics
important one and in definite need of being addressed, then it becomes a problem
which is hard to ignore. Not engaging becomes in itself a controversial stance, one
which needs to be explained and justified. In addition, if a number of prominent
philosophers have recognized the problem and tackled it, this adds to the pressure
and makes it difficult to disengage with the problem as stated. At the same time, if
a certain philosophical problem is considered to be a serious one only by
a handful of philosophers, it is easier not to be drawn into a dispute whose
significance many do not recognize. Thus, which question is considered to be
a compulsory one in a given ontological debate is often, to a greater degree than
metaphysicians would like to admit, a circumstantial matter.
Regardless of circumstances and philosophical trends and fashions, what
helps make an ontological question or problem a compulsory and an enduring
one is the way it is stated. The statement of it should be clear and well-
motivated. The theses that give rise to the problem should be made explicit,
as well as any controversial underlying assumptions presupposed by those
theses. Formulating the problem as a puzzle that needs solving can also be
very helpful, as it often sheds light on assumptions that cannot all be held
together.7 The risks of not stating and motivating the problem properly are
great – for we might find ourselves addressing a metaphysical pseudo-problem
and postulating entities aimed at addressing it. By a metaphysical pseudo-
problem, I understand the sort of problem that in its statement commits the
fallacy of a complex question. Such a fallacy is committed when, in posing the
question or problem, one tacitly takes for granted controversial assumptions
which others would not grant if made explicit; or assumptions which are simply
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7
Sider (Conee and Sider 2007) provides a nice example of this in his articulation of the puzzle of
coinciding objects.
Ontological Categories 31
Further still, it is often pointed out that even if we were to find compelling
arguments for the existence of certain necessary beings, the existence of contin-
gents would be open to the same type of question as the initial one, namely: “Why
are there these contingent beings rather than none (or some others)?”
It is not my aim here to engage in any depth with the various answers that
have been given to this question. I just want to pinpoint aspects of the question
which, I believe, make it a poorly motivated “pseudo-problem” and thus one of
those questions that is not compulsory.
First, the phrasing of the question is such that it seems to privilege nothing
over something. To ask “why is there something rather than nothing?” pre-
supposes that “nothing” is a default natural state, as opposed to a something,
which is taken to be surprising and in need of explanation. But, for the
question to be a fruitful one, the naturalness of the nothing state needs to be
established, not merely assumed. Grünbaum (2009) has argued that the
assumption of “the ontological spontaneity of nothingness”(SoN) finds its
32 Metaphysics
Once one has followed the suggestions in Section 3.1, and hopefully managed to
motivate and state the metaphysical problem reasonably well – perhaps as in the
Armstrongian version of the “one over many” – there is a great deal more to do.
Section 2 showed how one metaphysical problem can be addressed in a number
of ways, and introduced different types of entities. A useful way of thinking about
this is in terms of ontological roles and role-fillers. An entity that gets introduced
into one’s ontology is meant to fill a certain role in the overall theory. As we saw,
universals were introduced to ground the sharing and having of genuine proper-
ties; tropes were introduced to ground the having of properties, but the resem-
blance between distinct tropes was considered not to require a further common
ground. Thus, the initial decision about which categories are introduced depends
on what sort of phenomenon one wants to provide an explanation for, and what
sort of entity the philosopher deems to be best equipped for that job.
Then, when evaluating a metaphysical theory, philosophers often appeal to
Quine’s (1951) distinction between ontology and ideology. Ontology refers to the
entities that the theory claims exist; ideology refers, somewhat vaguely, to ideas,
concepts, and explanations provided by a theory. According to this distinction,
discussion about virtues of a given ontology, descriptions of different ontological
roles, characterizations of different types of entities, the sorting of different
entities into different categories, and so on all fall within the realm of ideology.
When comparing metaphysical theories, philosophers consider how they fare
with respect to both ontological and ideological economy. A theory is onto-
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same plain-old particulars. A challenger could perhaps argue that concrete pos-
sibilia are in fact a different kind of entity altogether. I won’t try to settle this
dispute here; it is just important to keep in mind that there is less consensus about
this aspect of metaphysical methodology than one might assume.
Assessing ideological economy is similarly challenging – it is both important
but also controversial. It is not just complex primitive predicates that are found
to be undesirable but, more generally, any kind of convoluted metaphysical
explanation and theory. What philosophers are after, ideally, are theories that are
clear, elegant, and fruitful. Such theories should only take as unanalyzable
concepts that are clear and self-evident and proceed in a systematic and gradual
way to explain the more complex components of the system in terms of the more
simple ones. The fruitfulness of the theory is also very important and is
measured by how well it explains the phenomenon it was intended to explain,
and whether it can be reapplied successfully to other areas of inquiry.
Let me illustrate this last point with the following example. When a realist
introduces universals to ground resemblance between distinct particulars, it
36 Metaphysics
may not look good for the fruitfulness of the theory if resemblance between
universals cannot receive the same type of treatment. Examples of resemblance
between universals are as follows: crimson resembles vermilion in being red,
triangularity is more like quadrilaterality than it is like circularity, and both
triangularity and circularity resemble in being shapes. But analyzing these
resemblances among universals by appeal to universals is highly problematic.
If resembling universals are themselves taken to instantiate second-order uni-
versals, it would seem to imply that they would themselves have to be instances
of those universals. And yet this can’t be, since universal properties of triangu-
larity and circularity are not themselves instances of shapes; that is, they are not
themselves shaped. Similarly, crimson and vermilion are not themselves red.
Take, again, triangularity and circularity; these two property universals resem-
ble in that they are both shapes. But they also differ as shapes. Armstrong
himself recognized that this was not a tenable view, since “things cannot differ
in the respect in which they are identical” (Armstrong 1978, p. 106). Thus,
rather than have one and the same thing serve as the ontological ground of
sameness and difference between two other entities, what is needed are distinct
entities one (or more) of which will serve as a resemblance-maker, and the other
which will serve as a difference-maker. Being a shape fails on both accounts: it
is neither specific enough to be able to capture a resemblance-order that exists
between different shapes, nor specific enough to account for what makes
different shapes distinct. Resemblance between universals thus has to receive
a different account entirely from that which applies to resemblance between
particulars and this, arguably, does not look good for the fruitfulness of the
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realist’s ideology.
In metaphysical theory-building, there are entities that are taken to belong to the
most fundamental ontological categories and that serve as the building blocks of
one’s ontology; and then there are entities that are more complex, composed of
the more fundamental entities. For example, particulars and universals can be
taken as the most fundamental ontological building blocks, while states of
affairs can be seen as the more complex entities that are made up of these two.
The more complex entities should not be introduced ad hoc; they, too, require
a well-motivated argument in favor of their postulation. Armstrong, for
example, produces a truthmaker argument for states of affairs. This argument
rests on the assumption that all truths require an ontological ground, that is,
something in the world that makes them true. He then goes on to make a case
that, truthmakers for truths about particular things having properties, and
Ontological Categories 37
affairs this has been a particularly fraught debate, since these entities do not
abide by the model of mereological constitution).
8
Bradley (1910) famously puzzled over Russell’s suggestion that an entity can be fundamental and
have constituents. Many more philosophers after him have had a similar thought.
9
For an in-depth treatment of the concept of fundamentality, see Tahko (2018).
38 Metaphysics
A great deal of the recent literature in metaphysics has been dedicated to the
concepts of ontological dependence, metaphysical explanation, and
grounding.10 All too often it is assumed that metaphysical explanation and
ontological dependence go hand in hand; the thought is that the metaphysical
explanation will follow the chains of ontological dependence, where the latter is
frequently characterized in terms of existential dependence of entities and in
terms of relationship of constitution. In its turn, then, ontological dependence is
characterized as an ontological analogue of metaphysical explanation – thus, the
“ontologically fundamental” entities are considered to be the ones that are
fundamental for explanatory purposes.
Where the two notions become completely indistinguishable is in loose
metaphysical talk of entities explaining a certain phenomenon. But I believe
this to be a misguided way of talking. For how might an entity do any explain-
ing? It seems to me more correct to say that we explain phenomena by appeal to
certain ontological categories or entities; entities themselves don’t explain
anything. Of course, an appeal to certain entities and their features might
make our explanations simpler and easier to follow, while other explanations
might seem more complex and difficult. But regardless of how the explanations
might go, the entities are doing no more explaining than, say, a virus or
a bacterium itself explains the disease that it causes.11
Once we dissociate the simplicity/complexity of an entity from the simpli-
city/complexity of the explanation that appeals to such an entity, we can see that
one need not associate the notion of fundamentality with an entity’s simplicity.
Indeed, it seems useful to distinguish between at least the following three senses
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10
See, for instance, Cameron (2008), Correia (2008), Schaffer (2012), Tahko and Lowe (2020).
11
An anonymous reviewer has pointed out that some philosophers such as Lowe (2018) do indeed
find that essences explain metaphysically. I suspect that what is meant by this claim is simply that
an appeal to the essential properties of an entity helps us understand its nature.
12
See Perović (2016).
Ontological Categories 39
dependence. None can exist without the others. Particulars cannot exist but in states
of affairs; universals cannot exist uninstantiated and thus in states of affairs; and, for
an immanent realist, states of affairs cannot exist without particulars and universals.
Existential fundamentality can be further refined in a number of ways. It can
be useful to distinguish, for instance, between the type of existential dependence
that holds between a given circle, c, and its essential property of extendedness,
and a circle, c, and its nonessential property of redness. It seems as if c cannot
exist without it being extended and circular, but it can exist without it being red
(it might be some other color). Various more fine-grained types of existential
fundamentality are discussed in detail by Tahko and Lowe (2020).
To sum up, these distinctions help us see how some entities might indeed be
constitutively complex but also, in a different sense, fundamental and unana-
lyzable. For instance, states of affairs appear to be existentially as fundamental
as particulars and universals; they are constitutively complex (and thus not
40 Metaphysics
fundamental in this sense); and they may even be seen as explanatorily more
fundamental than both particulars and universals.
Relating to concepts of simplicity and fundamentality is the concept of
a “primitive” in one’s theory. Metaphysical literature frequently loosely appeals
to the use of “primitives” whenever a certain type of entity or concept cannot be
further explained. But here, too, just as in the case of fundamentality, we need to
be careful. Postulated entities, strictly speaking, are not “primitive”; they are
simple or fundamental in one of the above senses. Predicates and concepts, on
the other hand, when they cannot be further explained and analyzed, are taken to
be primitives of the theory. For instance, in one’s theory of time, one might treat
the passage of time as a primitive; that is, it is taken as something that cannot
receive further analysis or a noncircular explanation (i.e., an explanation that
does not refer to the very concept it sets out to explain). This does not mean,
however, that there is nothing more to be said about the primitive. In fact, one
would hope that different descriptions and characterizations can be afforded.
The very idea is to take something intuitively compelling as a primitive notion
that one would hope to be able to describe further; but because it is explanatorily
fundamental, it cannot be further defined or explained away in terms of some-
thing more explanatorily simple.
There are, of course, gray areas, and even strong philosophical disagreements
about whether or not a certain concept or predicate makes for a convincing
primitive. For example, we have seen Lewis argue for the notion of a natural
property, or his notion of a contrastive and polyadic predicate of resemblance to
be taken as a primitive. In such contexts, philosophers appeal to primitives as
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a way of signaling that explanation does not go any further, that one has reached
the bottom line of a theorist’s ideology.
And yet philosophical inquiry and the need for analysis cannot be hushed so
easily. Philosophers have been known to put pressure on concepts that other
philosophers have taken to be primitive and unanalyzable. Take, for example,
relations. External relations, such as spatial and temporal relations (e.g. “two feet
apart,” “to the left of,” “preceding”) have been taken by many philosophers to be
unproblematic. At one point, Russell (1911) thought that relations might just be
the ultimate constituents of reality and that everything might indeed be reducible
to bundles of universals and relations among them. Other philosophers have been
suspicious of relations, finding them to be extremely puzzling. F. H. Bradley
(1893), for instance, famously argued that relations conceived as external lead to
an infinite regress, while relations conceived as internal, that is, as grounded in
their relata (e.g. “taller than,” “greater than”) also lead to contradictions and an
infinite regress of relations. Regress arguments were a commonly used philo-
sophical tool at the turn of the twentieth century. They were often generated in
Ontological Categories 41
order to show that using a certain concept or entity to explain a certain phenom-
enon was somehow insufficient; more entities or concepts of the same kind would
need to be introduced, ad infinitum, never arriving at an ultimate reductive
explanation. Bradley’s regress arguments against relations attempted to make
just that point – he wanted to demonstrate that relations could not fill the relating
task in a satisfactory way and that more and more relations would need to keep
being introduced to do the job. The assumption that generated the relational
regresses was that relations could not relate, that they were simply not up to the
task. Thus, the deeper dispute about relations had to do with the question whether
they can actually fulfill the ontological role assigned to them. Once it became
clear that Bradley’s deeper concern was that relations could not relate, while
Russell thought that they could, there was not much of a dispute left. The two
philosophers found themselves at an impasse. Bradley (1911) expressed his final
concern to Russell by asking him to explain further “how relations relate.” This
sort of question has been echoed by contemporary metaphysicians suspicious of
relations’ ability to relate. Some philosophers respond to this with the claim that
this is just what relations do; others find such an answer deeply frustrating and
unsatisfactory. The former then insist that they have an entity in their arsenal that
fulfills a certain role, and that the way that it fulfills that role is not something up
for dispute; how an entity fulfills its role is a primitive of a theory. Opponents, on
the other hand, stress that the “how” question is a compulsory one, and that
without addressing it adequately the entire matter is shrouded in mystery.
As this example illustrates, what makes for a good primitive concept in one’s
theory is often a controversial matter. Intuitiveness is a notoriously unreliable guide
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in philosophy. Among philosophers, intuitions are highly variable and change over
time. In addition, one needs to be careful about how far to push the “why” and
“how” questions in philosophy. What seems to power questions of the type “how
does a relation relate?” is reasoning similar to that in the PSR. This principle states,
roughly, that everything must have “a sufficient reason.” But this, of course, is too
vague. The “sufficient reason” sometimes refers to an explanation of a certain
phenomenon, at other times to a physical cause, and at yet other times to onto-
logical ground. These are all clearly very different ways of articulating a “reason”
for something. What they all have in common, and what I assume the PSR tries to
capture, is the sense that there ought to be some sort of explanation for every thing/
occurrence/phenomenon. This kind of search for an explanation well encapsulates
what lies at the core of our attempts to understand ourselves, the world around us,
and our place in such a world. It is the sort of wonder that has led to various
scientific discoveries, both large and small. But if the PSR is only meant to capture
something as vague as “human sense of wonder” and “search for explanations,”
then it is indeed too broad and vague to do any real philosophical work.
42 Metaphysics
cious and need not be part of the spatio-temporal physical world, but that
nonetheless feature in explanations of such a world. Such entities might be
numbers, propositions, universals, thoughts, and so on. This understanding of
naturalness in ontology is probably too permissive and not what most philo-
sophers are after when they talk about naturalistic ontology. But if interpret an
appeal to naturalism as a way to include only entities that are themselves
causally efficacious, this can seem both too restrictive and too vague. It can
be seen as too restrictive in the sense that it might leave out too many entities
that play an important explanatory role in a metaphysical theory – such as
possibilia, substances, selves, and so forth – while at the same time not being
causally efficacious in a straightforward way. The vagueness is also a problem –
causal efficacy of an entity would need to be spelled out further; for instance,
is causal efficacy to apply only to things or also their properties and, if so, which
account of properties is presupposed? Armstrong, for example, believed that
only scientific universals – those that feature in fundamental physics – should be
Ontological Categories 43
allowed. But this, of course, potentially leaves many other perfectly good
candidates out: universals from different sciences that are not fundamental
physics as well as the category of universals itself seem to be left out of the
picture. In any case, if appeal to naturalism is to play an important role in
deciding which sorts of ontological entities one should admit, then at the very
least one should make sure that the sense of “naturalism” is properly delineated,
as well, of course, as the particular sense in which causal efficacy is to be
understood in that philosopher’s theory.
accustomed to, since they do not admit universals to provide the ontological
ground of genuine resemblances in nature. Instead, they tend to think of resem-
blance between such entities as holding due to those entities’ natures, where the
latter can be understood by appeal to, say, nonrepeatable property tropes.
Distinction between ontological categories and entities that fall under such
categories is important to maintain for realists, as well. This is most clearly seen
when examining the issue of the most general categories. To help explain the
issue, I will utilize the determinate/determinable distinction introduced by
Johnson (1921). Johnson outlined five main features of the relationship between
determinate and determinable:
(1) if a particular has a determinable property, then it also has some determinate
property that falls under that determinable (for instance, if a is red, it may
not be crimson nor scarlet but it must be some specific shade of red; or if
something has a shape, it must have a specific shape such as
rectangularity);
44 Metaphysics
(2) if a particular has a determinate property, then it also has the corresponding
determinable property (if a is crimson, then it is automatically red);
(3) a particular cannot have more than one determinate property of a specific
determinable at the same time (a cannot at once be crimson and scarlet all
over, weigh 4 kg and 5 kg, be triangular and quadrilateral);
(4) the relationship between determinable and determinate is not to be confused
with the relationship between species and genus (the definition of species
involves differentia which is an independent property from genus, whereas in
defining determinates there is no such independent property); and
(5) within a class of determinates that fall under the same determinable there
are resemblances and these resemblances can be ordered (scarlet resembles
vermilion more than it resembles crimson, for instance); this, however, is
not the case with “highest” determinables.
understood them. But it does seem as if it is possible to assign to the same entity
multiple ontological roles, although not opposing roles at the same time.
Once the ontological role(s) are specified, philosophers can start testing the
adequacy of the different candidate entities for the assigned roles. If the
ontological role to be played is a property role, then we might have different
candidates such as classes of possibilia, universals, tropes, and so on. If the role
is “ontological ground of distinctness of entities,” possible role-fillers might be:
bare particulars, substrata, states of affairs, tropes, ordinary particulars, and so
forth. One might wonder if very different entities might end up playing the same
ontological roles equally well, thus giving rise to equally good but incompatible
rival ontological systems.
Armstrong and Lewis were remarkably intellectually honest in their debate
about fundamental ontology. Given the balance of trade-offs among different
theories of properties, for instance, they didn’t always think that there was
a straightforward winner among them. Armstrong frequently talked about
how such matters could be decided “in the end game”; that is, which theory
will be deemed a better one would have more to do with its overall explanatory
power in a number of fields of metaphysics, and not just in the debate about
properties.
I believe that this seems right. Given the unlikely situation in which two
rival ontologies explain a certain phenomenon or address a certain metaphys-
ical problem equally well, there is certainly more work to focus on in other
areas of metaphysics. This is why the debate between nominalism, realism,
and trope theory doesn’t just end with the account of properties and relations;
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it also has to do with accounts one might offer, by appeal to these entities, of
modality, laws of nature, propositions (if there are such), and so on.
Systematic metaphysics is a difficult, gradual, and patient endeavor; it takes
a great deal of thought to develop an ontology that can be employed in various
areas of philosophy, and that can be used to address a number of philosophical
problems.
This last point brings us back to the initial considerations of this section:
namely, the importance of making sure that metaphysical problems are properly
motivated and clearly stated. For if we don’t have a certain amount of philo-
sophical consensus on what the main problems are that need to be addressed, it
is difficult to have agreement on which ontological roles need to be filled, since
it is the problems that determine the ontological roles and the ontological roles
that determine the possible categories. Absent agreement on the problems, and
absent some form of general agreement on the methods, it is very difficult to
make progress in ontological system-building and the evaluation of rival
ontologies.
48 Metaphysics
between individuals, on the one hand, and properties on the other. It is that
sort of kind . . . which obeys a certain kind of law, namely, categorial laws.
But this reply does not really help much either. We must therefore rest
content, as on so many other occasions, with examples rather than definitions.
In these most fundamental matters of metaphysics, definitions are impossible.
(Grossman 1983, p. 5).
Simply put, categories are kinds of entities, not entities themselves. Which
kinds of entity? This depends on the ontology we develop. No general theory
of kinds of entities is to be had, according to Grossman. In fact, he believes that
“disputes about the true nature of ontology, just like similar disputes about
philosophy as a whole, are singularly barren and tedious. The proof of the
pudding, as the saying goes, is in the eating” (Grossman 1983, p. 18).
Some philosophers strongly disagree with this bottom-up approach to onto-
logical categories. What motivates a top-down approach is pretty straightforward.
If we take the main job of ontology to be to determine the correct list of
Ontological Categories 49
ontological categories, then it seems central to this task to first articulate what it is
we are looking for – that is, what ontological categories are in the first place. Take,
for instance, Westerhoff’s (2005) exploration of the issue. Right at the outset he
finds it important to keep ontological questions separate from meta-ontological
ones. The two central meta-ontological questions, according to Westerhoff, are:
“1. What kind of things are ontological categories? What makes the categories
incorporated in the seven systems discussed ontological categories?” and
“2. How can these categories be related?” (Westerhoff 2005, p. 20). For him,
these two questions need to be distinguished from object-level ontological
questions: “1’. Which ontological categories should appear in an ontological
theory?” and “2’. How are these categories in fact related, i.e. which are included
in one another, which are coextensional etc.?” (Westerhoff 2005, p. 20).
Whereas Westerhoff is right that the two sets of questions are distinct, it
doesn’t seem to follow from this that the considerations involved in the second
set should have little or no bearing on the first. Indeed, I take it that the most
relevant meta-ontological questions are brought about by the first-order ques-
tions, and how one goes about answering the former will be very much influ-
enced by how one goes about answering the latter.
A philosopher can choose to stay at a meta-ontological level, list different
category systems provided by different philosophers, and then proceed to ask,
following Westerhoff: What, if anything, do all these category systems, articu-
lated by different philosophers, have in common? What are all these philo-
sophers engaged in, when they offer a list of categories? Take, for example,
Aristotle’s list of categories, mentioned in Section 1.1, which appeals to sub-
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stance, quantity, quality, relation, place, date, posture, state, action, and passion;
Grossman’s (1983) categories of simple entities (individuals, numbers, proper-
ties, relations) and complex entities (sets, structures, facts); Lowe’s (2006)
categories of particulars (objects, modes) and universals (kinds, attributes);
Chisholm’s (1996) categories of contingent entities (individuals, states) and
necessary entities (states, nonstates); and so on. To ask “what makes different
categories in these systems ontological categories?” risks, I worry, being
a pseudo-question. To ask about the commonalities between different category
systems assumes, without demonstrating, that there are indeed such common-
alities, and that an appeal to them can explain what makes something an
ontological category.
But the trouble here is that different philosophers often mean very different
things by each of the listed categories, and the lists themselves can serve very
different categorizing purposes. Now, even if we found that there are in fact certain
commonalities between the distinct category systems proposed – say, their appeal
to particulars, properties, relations, and so on – this by itself does not establish any
50 Metaphysics
The view defended here respects the intuition that the fact that an object
belongs to a particular ontological category is a deeper fact than any fact
concerning the properties had by the object. The category that an object
Ontological Categories 51
belongs to is not just another property among many had by the object, but
rather is ontologically prior to any property had by the object. Properties
partition the beings in the world. Ontological categories partition being itself.
(McDaniel 2017, p. 124)
The language of partitioning being itself is not particularly helpful. But, setting
that aside, McDaniel’s broader intent is certainly to allow for different ontolo-
gies to fill out the details as they see fit. Some ontologies might be very coarse-
grained in their appeal to only one category of entity (be it an individual or
a trope), others might be very fine-grained (with many categorical subdivi-
sions), and then there is everything else in between. This view also leaves open
how one might analyze properties themselves (by appeal to natural classes,
tropes, or universals).
In E. J. Lowe’s (2006) The Four Category Ontology we find a more robust
prescriptivist top-down approach to categories. Lowe describes ontology as
being concerned, at its heart, with “what kinds of things can exist and co-
exist” (Lowe 2006, p. 5). He immediately clarifies that by “kinds of things”
he means categories, and that by “things” he means entities. Central to this
project is thus determining which categories should be admitted and how
they should be individuated, that is, identified and distinguished from other
categories. Such categories are organized hierarchically – at the very top is
the category of “entity” and right beneath it are particulars and universals,
according to Lowe. The most fundamental level, however, is the third level,
at which we find Lowe’s four categories: kinds, properties (and relations),
objects, and modes. He then goes on to define each of the four categories by
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14
Internal relations such as taller than supervene on the natures of the relata, in this case height.
Lowe’s formal relations capture internal dependence relationships which are much stronger. The
example he gives is of Fido and doghood: Fido could not have existed in the absence of
doghood – the two are “made for each other,” so to speak (Lowe 2006, pp. 46–47).
52 Metaphysics
categories are not themselves entities and are thus not to be included in an
exhaustive inventory of what there is. There are, quite literally, no such
things as ontological categories” (Lowe 2006, p. 43).
This fact should not, however, be taken to threaten metaphysical realism in
any way. Lowe explains:
Does this mean that no ontological system can have a realist foundation?
Does it mean that ontological categorization is all just a matter of how we
choose to classify and describe things – of how we choose to “carve up”
reality, to use the rebarbative metaphor so often favored by anti-realists? Not
at all. The difference between, say, an object and a property, or between an
object and a mode, is as fundamental, objective and real as any difference
could possibly be. (Lowe 2006, p. 43)
In other words, categories need not be entities for us to be realist about them.
What they capture are real distinctions between types of entities – such as
Armstrong’s particulars and universals, or Lowe’s modes and objects – and
such distinctions are due to the intrinsic natures of such entities; they are not due
to us and our ways of describing them. To categorize correctly is simply to
categorize according to the existence and identity conditions of things that are
before us. This exercise is done purely on a priori grounds, which makes it very
different from the taxonomies we find in sciences such as biology or chemistry,
Lowe notes.
Thus, for Lowe, ontology is a science of the most general and abstract
kind – it is a science of being. In doing ontology, we are trying to discover
correct ontological categories which are based on the metaphysical natures of
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entities.
This passage captures nicely the traditional realist approach to ontology, with
its bold overarching goal of discovering the most general mind-independent
categories of being. This approach is an admirable and inspiring one; but, as
I will argue in Section 4, it can seem alienating to anti-realists, on the one hand,
Ontological Categories 53
and his arguments for the realist stance about ontological categories. The
authors highlight Lowe’s repeated appeal to indispensability arguments for
the categories that he proposes:
his proposed categories are indispensable for scientific enterprise. For example,
Lowe criticizes regularity accounts of laws of nature as unsatisfactory and
believes that conceiving of laws of nature in terms of relations between univer-
sals provides a better foundation for their generality and predictive power. The
authors reply to this is that Lowe’s proposal is “unlikely to be recognizable to
practitioners of science as a proper solution to the problem” (Bueno et al. 2015,
p. 242). Lowe also believes that his ontological categories are routinely presup-
posed by scientific descriptions of the world, as these make pervasive appeals to
kinds, objects, properties, and so on. But the authors find this claim to be
extremely problematic. They say that Lowe’s categories are indeed dispensable,
since they are of no concern to a practicing scientist.
I find that there is something strange about these arguments. It is as if Bueno
et al. (2015) are purposely missing the point that a realist is trying to make:
namely, Lowe is not claiming that all scientists need to do metaphysics first, by
reading, for instance, his account of ontological categories as a prerequisite for
their scientific research. Nor is he claiming that all scientists need to learn about
universals and his own account of laws of nature. The uncharitableness of
interpretation that anti-realists are engaged in is striking. What Lowe is claim-
ing, however, is that scientific reasoning presupposes the very categories that he
has outlined; he claims that if scientists were to ask themselves foundational
questions about features of laws of nature, they could use some metaphysical
background on universals. The types of criticism of ontological realism that
appeal to what scientists do in their practice are thus entirely beside the point.
Perhaps the upshot of these anti-realist arguments is just that Lowe, and
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realist approaches to ontology more generally, are overplaying their hand. There
are no genuinely indispensable categories, claim anti-realists. We need categor-
izations, since we need to sort and categorize things, but we should not assume –
the claim goes – that the entities subsumed under such categorizations pick out
mind-independent entities. “Categorizations without reification” is their motto;
Bueno et al. (2015) believe that abstract concepts rather than categories can do
the categorizing job well enough. Concepts are flexible, easily swapped around,
eliminated, and introduced as needed. Categories, in contrast, are not so flex-
ible, according to Bueno et al.; they seem rigid and permanent.
Now, what should be noted is that these anti-realist concerns seem to rely on
a particular understanding of the nature of truth, which is antithetical to the
realist conception. The backdrop to the realist’s commitment to ontological
categories is some form of correspondence theory of truth. In truthmaker terms,
the assumption can be put simply as follows: there are truthbearers, assertions
that are either true or false, and truthmakers, worldly facts or states of affairs
that make those sentences true. For example, “this piece of paper is white” is
56 Metaphysics
made true by the way things are, in this case, by this piece of paper indeed being
white. Whereas we can express the meaning of a given sentence in different
ways, truthmakers are what they are, they exist independently of our minds, as
does the truthmaking relationship between truthbearers and the facts that make
them true. One can provide different ontological accounts of truthmakers
(nominalists might appeal to particulars and their class membership; trope
theorists will appeal to tropes and trope-bundles; immanent realists will appeal
to particulars, universals, and possibly states of affairs), but the assumption is
that there are some such entities. One can also take different attitudes toward the
scope of the truthmaker approach –that is, whether one ought to be a truthmaker
maximalist and take it that all truths must have truthmakers, or argue more
modestly that perhaps some truths, such as negative truths or general truths, do
not have a truthmaker – but the assumption is nonetheless that truthmaking
applies widely.
In any case, anti-realists must reject all of this. They must reject correspond-
ence and assume some other theory of truth – perhaps a coherence theory, or the
pragmatist theory, or the deflationary theory. But such theories are notoriously
incapable of explaining what it is that makes sentences true and what might
guide one in evaluating the truth of a given sentence. Such theories are also quite
incapable of explaining what it is that makes certain concepts better than others
for categorizing purposes. If a certain concept is more useful, or serves a certain
purpose better than other concepts, how should such usage or purpose be
characterized and what makes one concept better than another? Why apply
the concept “rectangularity” to all of the things we perceive to be rectangular?
Or what do all of our appeals to “objects” have in common? If there is no appeal
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truth indivisible” and that whereas “special sciences” aim to portray some part of
reality correctly, these different portrayals must all fit together to make an accurate
picture of reality as a whole. It is thus the job of ontology, according to Lowe, to
paint this accurate picture of such a holistic reality.
I suspect that this underlying commitment to oneness of reality and the
supposed indivisibility of truth alienates some scientifically minded philo-
sophers. The appeal to this oneness can appear to leave no room for partial
explorations and piecemeal pursuits of truth to count as fully fledged truths in
their own right. If all of these different partial explorations must add up to one
reality described properly only by the one correct ontology in order to count as
descriptions of reality, and if various truths must all add up to one indivisible
truth, then only those engaged in the “science of everything” will stand a chance
of getting at the truth. And that seems like a tall order indeed.
I am not sure, however, that Lowe intended to embrace this sort of monistic
picture, despite sometimes sounding as if he did. For instance, he writes:
58 Metaphysics
The relativist must hold that reality itself is many, not one – that we do not all
inhabit the same world. He must say that the sum total of existence for me is
not necessarily the same as the sum total of existence for you. . . . Against
[pluralist ontologies] is posed a monistic ontology which holds that reality is
fundamentally one: that there is just one sum total of existence – one world –
which is the same for all thinkers, places and times. And my suggestion is
that, to the extent that we are committed to the unity of truth, at least inasmuch
as this amounts to an unconditional acceptance of the principle of non-
contradiction, we are committed to the oneness of reality and to its mind-
independence. We are committed, in short, to a fully realist metaphysics.
Fortunately, this still leaves plenty of scope for many forms of pluralism. In
accepting that reality is one, we need not accept that there is only one truth, or
only one truthmaker, or only one kind of truthmaker. Our ontology will admit
of multitudes within The One. (Lowe 2006, p. 191)
In this passage we can see that what drives Lowe to think in apparent monistic
terms about reality is the concern about truth. The unity or indivisibility of truth
mentioned here simply has to do with what he calls “an unconditional acceptance of
the principle of non-contradiction.” There cannot be a truth according to you and
a truth according to me, for this would inevitably lead to a reality of contradictions,
and this simply cannot be, for Lowe. For there to be no violation of the principle of
non-contradiction, the truth must be mind-independent and the reality that our true
descriptions attempt to get at, must be one. It is one not in the almost mystical sense
of the British idealists; rather, it is one in the sense that it is a shared reality.
Seen in this way, ambitious metaphysical realist projects like Lowe’s in fact
leave plenty of room for scientific and metaphysical explorations of all kinds.
They leave room for the metaphysical problem-driven, bottom-up approach to
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In various category systems, one usually finds place and time listed as the
highest categories that cut across those of, say, facts, or particulars, or proper-
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ties. But A.N. Whitehead (1920) offered a radically new and interesting tem-
poral ontology that made no such separation. He explicitly argued against what
he called “a bifurcation of nature” into two systems of reality. One reality was
the given physical reality, say, the reality of microphysics with entities such as
electrons, protons, and other microparticles; the other reality he referred to was
the mind-dependent one, or what is given to us in our sense-awareness. What
Whitehead was getting at is, essentially, the distinction between Lockean
primary and secondary qualities, a distinction that he took to be wrong and
pernicious. The so-called bifurcation of nature, according to Whitehead, created
a schism that induced us to arrive at wrong conclusions about both realms. The
way forward, then, was to close the schism, by assuming that “everything
perceived is in nature. We may not pick and choose. For us the red glow of
the sunset should be as much part of nature as are the molecules and electric
waves by which men of science would explain the phenomenon. It is for natural
philosophy to analyze how these various elements of nature are connected”
60 Metaphysics
(Whitehead 1920, p. 29). Whitehead’s way of closing the gap between the two
realms was thus not to pick one realm over the other, but rather, to integrate
them.
The result of this approach was a highly original temporal ontology, with
irreducibly dynamic events and processes at its core. Whitehead (1920) con-
ceived of events as chunks of passage of nature, and thought of objects as what
remains the same through time, through all the change and flux. Objects, for
him, are always to be found within events, and could only be isolated through
the process of abstraction. The traditional particular–universal distinction was
scrapped and replaced by an event–object distinction in Whitehead’s temporal
ontology.
As we saw in Section 2, the particular–universal distinction emerged from
the recognition of genuine resemblance in the world, and from the need to
explain and ontologically ground this phenomenon in some way. Universals
were introduced as entities that ground such resemblances by being present in
each particular that has an apparent property. Particulars, in this framework,
provided the ground of distinctness of entities. In such a context, change was
often seen as a state of dissimilarity, described in static terms such as:
a particular, a, has a certain property, F, at a certain time, t1, and then
a different property, G, at time t2. But Whitehead’s event–object distinction
turned this picture on its head. The background assumption in his ontology is
the constant change and transitoriness in nature. Nature appears to us as
passing and changing, and events are the basic currency of that temporal
passage. Objects are then derived as what seems to us to be constant in that
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They argue that we mustn’t lose sight of how experientially charged the objects
of scientific inquiry really are; overlooking this fact leads to an unwarranted
faith in science as providing absolute knowledge:
This belief in absolute knowledge leads to blind spots: “The Blind Spot arises
when we start to believe that this [scientific] method gives us access to unvar-
nished reality. But experience is present at every step. Scientific models must be
pulled out from observations, often mediated by our complex scientific equip-
ment. They are idealizations, not actual things in the world” (Frank et al. 2019).
They conclude: “[T]o finally ‘see’ the Blind Spot is to wake up from a delusion
of absolute knowledge. It’s also to embrace the hope that we can create a new
scientific culture, in which we see ourselves both as an expression of nature and
as a source of nature’s self-understanding” (Frank et al. 2019).
All this is very broad and it is not entirely clear how such an insight is to be
applied on a case-by-case basis. Nonetheless, there is something valuable here that
we can apply to metaphysical investigations as well as the scientific ones. It does
seem to be the case that certain blind spots in metaphysics arise in a similar way to
the ones described – that is, they arise when we start to take our models of reality,
our rough generalizations and categorizations, for the reality itself. Whitehead was
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particularly worried about this when discussing the notion of an instant of time,
a construct he took to be useful but ultimately very misleading when it comes to the
true nature of physical reality. He puts this concern as follows:
at one point, are “a metaphysical fairytale.” This does not mean, though, that
we are to dispose of instants altogether. Just because instants are not given in
our sense-awareness does not mean that they are not useful abstractions in
mathematics and science. What we must not lose track of is that they are just
that – useful abstractions. And, for Whitehead, abstractions should not be
substituted for reality, which they are introduced to describe and explain,.
Thus, we should take Whitehead seriously when he warns: “[W]e are apt to
fall into the error of thinking that the facts are simple because simplicity is the
goal of our quest. The guiding motto in the life of every natural philosopher
should be ‘Seek simplicity and distrust it’.” (Whitehead 1920, p. 163).
Even if one disagrees with the particulars of Whitehead’s ontological pro-
posal, the motto he offers is instructive. The change of perspective that his
denial of the bifurcation of nature offers is illuminating. By integrating our
experience of change with the passage of nature itself, he fused the two sets of
categories that are often kept separate – space and time, on the one hand, and
atemporal categories such as particulars and universals, on the other. The result
is surprising and makes us reconsider whether passage and change should
indeed be derived from a static picture of reality, or whether passage and flux
of nature should come first with static entities derived as abstractions from it.
used to categorize people into only two distinct groups of men and women.
Many have thought that how one answers this metaphysical question ought to
guide one’s use of gender terms, but Barnes (2020) has recently argued against
this straightforward alignment.
Indeed, “in virtue of what, if anything, do people have genders?” seems to be
a distinctly metaphysical question. In her recent paper Barnes (2020) nicely
summarizes two broad types of answers that this question has received in recent
literature: (1) social-position accounts, which explain gender by appeal to
external factors; and (2) identity-based accounts, which explain gender by
appeal to internal factors.
Social-position accounts tend to explain gender by appeal to external social
factors such as how people are perceived, or what social roles they are expected
to play in society, and so on. For Witt (2011), for example, gender seems to play
a pretty fundamental role in structuring and ordering other social properties and
roles. She takes human beings to be comprised of the human organism, the
Ontological Categories 63
person, and the social individual. Gender is then a social property that structures
and unifies other social roles which come to be part of the social individual. For
example, I am not just a parent, I am a mother; I am not just a spouse, I am
a wife; I am not just a sibling, I am a sister; and so on. Gender thus has a central
social role that is imposed on persons based on various assumptions about the
reproductive role that they play. Haslanger (2012), too, is a proponent of the
social-position account of gender, but in her definitions of women and men, she
makes salient the structural features of society which consistently place women
in subordinate roles and positions based on their perceived or imagined bodily
features, and which place men in privileged roles and positions based on their
perceived or imagined bodily features.
Barnes notes that the trouble with social-position accounts is that they face
what Jenkins (2016) has called an “exclusion problem.” That is, such accounts
tend to leave out of their classifications trans women and trans men if they are
not perceived by others as falling into these social categories. By relying merely
on how others in society perceive and engage with a person, and not on how
people themselves identify, social-position accounts fail to capture an important
aspect of gender – the relevant first-person reports of people themselves.
Identity-based accounts avoid the exclusion problem just described by put-
ting weight, in their explanations of gender, on the internal features of persons.
What matters is how one feels about oneself, how one identifies, which groups
one sees oneself as belonging to, and so on. This kind of view is endorsed by
McKitrick (2015) in her appeal to behavioral dispositions. If a person has
a certain number of dispositions identified as feminine (such as how they tend
https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108973861 Published online by Cambridge University Press
to express themselves in various contexts, how they dress, how they wear their
hair and makeup, what name they go by, which bathroom they choose, and so
on), then that person is a woman. But the trouble with these kinds of accounts is
that though they avoid the previous exclusion problem, they face a problem of
their own. The worry here is that if too much weight is put on a person’s own
self-identification and expression of gender, it might leave out those who are not
actively engaged, or not able to engage in this kind of self-sorting activity. The
example that Barnes (2020) discusses here is of cognitively disabled women
and men who, it seems, should not be excluded from being identified as women
or men just because they lack the capacities for explicit self-identification.
Barnes herself ends up endorsing a modified social-position account of
gender. She finds this account to be important insofar as it tracks social reality
well. At the same time, she admits that such an account far from offers
a complete story; gender, according to her, also encompasses gender identity,
gender expression, and so on. In the light of the discussion of the messiness and
difficulties in characterizing gender categories, Barnes insists that gender terms
64 Metaphysics
should not be expected to neatly track such categories. She makes a strong case
for keeping the application of gender terms as permissive and flexible as
possible, while at the same time recognizing the social reality captured by the
social-position accounts. In this way, the flexible use of these terms is meant to
help the process of overcoming the still very real and grim social reality of
gender inequality.
These sorts of discussions are clearly important and relevant although they
do not engage with traditional metaphysics of the highest ontological categor-
ies of substance, mode, and property. But exploring the status of mid- to
lower-level categories such as gender or race is important and revealing. We
find important truths when we ask whether such categories are genuine; in
what way they should be defined; what role they play in current social and
political reality; and whether or not we should worry if our terms pick these
categories neatly or not. These are all questions that a revisionist ontological
project makes room for.
I believe that such a pessimism is too hasty and that a lot depends on how
we interpret progress in philosophy. In his recent paper, Daly (2016) equates
the presumed lack of progress with persistent philosophical disagreement,
that is, the fact that no philosophical problem appears to have been perman-
ently solved. He then goes on to explore three different explanations for this
lack of progress: (1) Russell’s explanation, which contrasts science and
philosophy; (2) MacBride’s explanation, which invokes “the epistemic end
of days”; and (3) the explanation that appeals to the notion of cognitive closure.
Russell’s explanation is succinct: he claims that science is “what you more or
less know” whereas philosophy is “what you do not know,” thus contrasting the
presumed certainty of science with the speculative nature of philosophy. Russell
also pointed out that science has been successful at solving some of the problems
that initially originated as philosophical ones. But, as Daly (2016) rightly points
out, this Russellian characterization of both science’s certainty and philosophy’s
uncertainty is not accurate. There is a fair amount of speculation in science itself;
Ontological Categories 65
we just need to turn our attention to theoretical physics. So, Russell’s account is
not helpful in diagnosing the reason for the presumed lack of philosophical
progress.
MacBride’s (2014) explanation attributes the lack of philosophical progress
to the fact that philosophical problems have a broad range – they are both
general and require understanding of several areas of knowledge. So, until the
supposed “epistemic end of days” we cannot expect progress to happen because
of the deep interconnectedness of philosophical problems with each other, and
with problems in other adjacent disciplines. Daly (2016) finds this account
objectionable as well, because, according to him, it exaggerates the degree to
which philosophical problems are indeed interconnected. Many problems in
science are deeply interconnected too, notes Daly, but that by itself does not
translate into a lack of progress.
I am particularly intrigued by the idea of the “epistemic end of days” and
wonder if a similar hypothesis can help us think about progress in philosophy
and the nature of our discipline more broadly. Imagine an omniscient being:
Does such a being philosophize? And, more to the point, does such a being do
ontology and engage in the search for ontological categories? If we are inclined
to say “no, the omniscient being does not engage in ontological inquiry,” such
an answer would likely be based on the following thought: when one does
ontology, one is engaged in the discovery of ontological facts; such facts are
perhaps, as MacBride (2014) suggests, extremely difficult to get right. But
a higher omniscient being would surely have no trouble grasping them. Such
a being would not need to engage in philosophical pursuit any more than it
https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108973861 Published online by Cambridge University Press
would need to engage in scientific pursuits, experiments, and so on. If, however,
we thought that an omniscient being would indeed do philosophy, such an
answer might indicate several things. It could reveal a view of philosophy as
riddled with puzzles that no amount of factual knowledge can solve; or it could
reveal a view of philosophy as a process of reasoning of a particular type, with
different possible outcomes, due to different possible combinations of views as
well as patterns of reasoning. I am sure there are more possibilities still; the goal
of the question “does an omniscient being philosophize?” is simply to help us
see that the question of philosophical progress perhaps has less to do with the
disagreements we have with one another and more to do with our understanding
of the very nature of philosophy and philosophical pursuit.
Related to this discussion is the third explanation of the lack of philosophical
progress with its appeal to our presumed cognitive closure. Daly attributes this
view to Van Inwagen (2008), and the thought is simply that we cannot make
progress in philosophy because our minds are cognitively closed to solutions of
philosophical problems; our minds are simply not up to the task. I find this kind
66 Metaphysics
I tend to agree with the spirit of Daly’s diagnosis, though not with the details.
First, it is not clear to me that a presumed lack of progress in philosophy should
be deduced from the persistence of disagreement. Persistence of disagreement
in philosophy can be seen as its feature, perhaps even a philosophical virtue,
a sign of healthy skepticism within a discipline that is highly speculative but
also uniquely self-reflective and self-questioning. Moreover, a case can be made
that there has been a tremendous amount of progress in philosophy across the
board, as well as in ontology more specifically. Often times it seems as if there
are very few stones that philosophers have left unturned, very few arguments or
avenues that have been left unexplored.
But there is room for improvement, of course, and I believe that philosophical
methods need to be further scrutinized and better regimented. I have argued that
part of this task is to engage in a more careful analysis of the formulations of the
problems we set out to address, by being more transparent about the underlying
motivations and implicit assumptions. I also agree with Daly’s concern about
philosophical ambitions, though I see the concern as having more to do with the
Ontological Categories 67
level of generality than with the aims themselves that philosophers set their
sights on.
I find that as admirable as systematic metaphysical top-down theory-building
is, there should also be room for more piecemeal and humble approaches to
ontology. Trying to carry out both projects is probably the best way forward,
since if we only take the global approach, we might miss catching the blind
spots and/or force the categorizations top-down in a way that may not fit the
different philosophical phenomena in need of explanation. If, on the other hand,
we only take the piecemeal approach, we might miss the ways that different
areas of inquiry hang together, and miss out on the big picture that drives the
commitment to the most fundamental ontological categories. The most fruitful
way forward is probably the one that puts forward an initial system, but in
various areas keeps amending and refining the categories, as needed.
https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108973861 Published online by Cambridge University Press
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Tuomas E. Tahko
University of Bristol
Tuomas E. Tahko is Professor of Metaphysics of Science at the University of Bristol, UK.
Tahko specializes in contemporary analytic metaphysics, with an emphasis on
methodological and epistemic issues: ‘meta-metaphysics’. He also works at the interface of
metaphysics and philosophy of science: ‘metaphysics of science’. Tahko is the author of
Unity of Science (Cambridge University Press, 2021, Elements in Philosophy of Science),
An Introduction to Metametaphysics (Cambridge University Press, 2015) and editor of
Contemporary Aristotelian Metaphysics (Cambridge University Press, 2012).
Chemistry’s Metaphysics
Vanessa A. Seifert
Ontological Categories: A Methodological Guide
Katarina Perović