Wasserman Material Constitution

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Material Constitution

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Ryan Wasserman

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Material ConstitutionFirst published Wed Feb 25, 2009

What is the relationship between a clay statue and the lump of clay fromwhich it is formed? We might say that the lump constitutes the statue, butwhat is this relation of material constitution? Some insist that constitutionis identity, on the grounds that distinct material objects cannot occupy thesame place at the same time. Others argue that constitution is not identity,since the statue and the lump differ in important respects. Still others takecases like this to motivate revisionary views about the nature ofpersistence, parthood, modality, identity, or existence.

This article presents some of the most important puzzles of materialconstitution and evaluates some of the most popular responses.

1. The Puzzles2. Coincident Objects3. Temporal Parts4. Eliminativism5. Dominant Kinds6. Relative Identity7. DeflationismBibliographyAcademic ToolsOther Internet ResourcesRelated Entries

1. The Puzzles

Puzzles of material constitution played an important role in the

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development of philosophy and continue to be a source of much debatetoday. Here, we introduce four of the most famous puzzles.

The Debtor's Paradox. The ancient playwright Epicharmus tells the taleof a poor but resourceful debtor. When approached for payment, the manresponds with a riddle. If you add a pebble to a collection of pebbles, youno longer have the same number. If you add a length to a cubit, you nolonger have the same measure. In the same way, if you add a bit of matterto a portion of matter you no longer have the same entity. Since man isnothing more than a material object whose matter is constantly changing,we do not survive from one moment to the next. The debtor concludesthat he is not the same person who incurred the debt, so he cannot be heldresponsible for payment. The exasperated creditor then strikes the debtor,who protests the abusive treatment. The creditor expresses sympathy, butpoints out that he cannot be held accountable for the assault. After all,material change has already taken place so, by the debtor's own one lineof reasoning, the guilty party is no longer present. The scene is intendedto be comedic, but the argument is no laughing matter. The man whoincurred the debt was constituted by one portion of matter, M1. The manwho is approached for payment is constituted by a distinct portion ofmatter, M2 (where M2 consists of M1, together with some new matter). Ifconstitution is identity, the debtor's reasoning is sound: the man who isapproached for payment is not the man who incurred the debt. Moregenerally, the argument would show that it is impossible for humanpersons to survive the addition of any new parts.

The Puzzle of Dion and Theon. The Stoic philosopher Chrysippus invitesus to consider the case of Dion and Theon, where Dion is a normal humanbeing and Theon is a large part of Dion consisting of everything butDion's right foot. Suppose now that the right foot is removed. Theonobviously survives the operation, for his parts remain completelyunchanged. But in that case it seems as if Dion does not survive the


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operation, for otherwise we would have two people in the same place atthe same time. Hence, Dion does not survive the loss of his foot. Moregenerally, the argument would show that human persons cannot survivethe loss of any constituent parts. (A modern variation on the ancientpuzzle, due to Peter Geach 1962 by way of David Wiggins 1967,concerns Tibbles and Tib, where Tibbles is a cat and Tib a cat-partconsisting of everything but Tibbles's tail.)

The Ship of Theseus Puzzle. The ancient historian Plutarch recounts thestory of the famous ship of Theseus, which was displayed in Athens formany centuries. Over time, the ship's planks wore down and weregradually replaced. In the ancient world, the ship became “a standingexample among the philosophers, for the logical question as to things thatgrow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the othercontending it was not the same” (Clough 1859, p. 21). In the modern era,the case took on added interest, owing to a twist from Thomas Hobbes.Suppose that a custodian collects the original planks as they are removedfrom the ship and later puts them back together in the originalarrangement. In this version of the story, we are left with two seafaringvessels, one on display in Athens and one in the possession of thecustodian. But where is the famous Ship of Theseus? With the museum!After all, ships and other artifacts can survive the complete replacementof parts, provided that the change is sufficiently gradual. With thecustodian! After all, ships and other artifacts can survive beingdisassembled and reassembled. Thus, at the end of the story, the ship ofTheseus is present in two places at once. More generally, the argumentsuggests that it is possible for one material object to exist in two places atthe same time. (We get an equally implausible result by workingbackwards: There are clearly two ships at the end of the story. Each ofthose ships was also around at the beginning of the story, for the reasonsjust given. So, at the beginning of the story, there were actually two shipsof Theseus occupying the same place at the same time, one of which

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would go on to the museum and one of which would enter into the care ofthe custodian.)

The Puzzle of the Statue and the Clay. Suppose that, on Monday, asculptor purchases an unformed lump of clay, which he names ‘Lump’.Suppose further that, on Tuesday, the artist sculpts the clay into the formof the biblical king David and names his statue ‘David’. It is tempting tosay that, in this case, there is only one object in the sculptor's hands—David just is Lump. But, on reflection, this identification is problematic,since Lump and David seem to differ in various respects. First, Lump andDavid differ in their temporal properties: Lump existed on Monday,while David did not. Second, they differ in their persistence conditions(i.e., the conditions under which they would and would not continue toexist): Lump could survive being squashed, David could not. Third, theydiffer in kind: Lump is a mere lump of clay, while David is a statue. Moregenerally, we can say that Lump and David differ in their non-categoricalproperties, where these include all of the various ways that a thing was,will, would, could, or must be. (Fine 2003 argues that Lump and Davidalso differ in their aesthetic properties, among other things.) But if Lumpand David differ in even one respect, they are not the same thing, forLeibniz's Law tells that, for any x and y, if x = y, then x and y have all thesame properties. Thus, it seems as if the sculptor holds not one, but two,material objects in his hands: a statue and a lump of clay. More generally,it is possible for two material objects to exist in the same place at thesame time.

The four puzzles differ in details, but present a common problem. (A fifthpuzzle about material constitution—the problem of the many—raisessignificantly different issues and is dealt with in a separate entry. See theentry on the problem of the many.) We will focus on the case of thestatue and the clay, and we will formulate the argument as follows:



1. David did not exist on Monday (but does exist on Tuesday).2. Lump did exist on Monday (and also exists on Tuesday).3. If (1) and (2), then David is not identical to Lump.4. [So] David is not identical to Lump.

The premises are plausible, but the conclusion seems absurd, for itimplies the possibility of spatially coincident objects. As David Wigginsnotes, “It a truism frequently called in evidence and confidently reliedupon in philosophy that two things cannot be in the same place at thesame time.” (1968, p. 90) Since the conclusion contradicts the truism, weare left with a paradox: seemingly true premises have led to a seeminglyfalse conclusion.

Generally speaking, there are five possible replies to the paradox. First,one could simply accept (4) and admit that David is not identical toLump. We consider this response in sections 2 and 3, where we discussthe constitution view of David Wiggins (1968) and the temporal partstheory of David Lewis (1976). Second, one could deny (1) by, forexample, denying the existence of David. We consider this response insection 4, where we discuss the eliminativist views of Peter Unger (1979),Peter van Inwagen (1990), and Roderick Chisholm (1979). Third, onecould deny (2) by, for example, denying that Lump survives beingreshaped into a statue. We consider this response in section 5, where wediscuss the dominant kinds view of Michael Burke (1992). Fourth, onecould deny (3) by rejecting the standard formulation of Leibniz's Law. Weconsider this response in section 6, where we discuss the relative identitytheory of Peter Geach (1967). Fifth and finally, one could respond to theparadox by insisting that the underlying issues are in some sense verbal,so that there is no fact of the matter about which premise (if any) is false.We consider this response in section 7, where we discuss the deflationistviews of Rudolf Carnap (1950) and others.

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One final note: Our focus will be on puzzles about material objects, butsimilar problems arise for other kinds of entities, including events,properties, and groups. Suppose, for example, that Jackie attacks hisenemy by kicking him. What is the relation between the attack and thekick? We might say that the kick constitutes an attack, but what is therelation of event constitution? (For an introduction to the parallel debateover events, see Davidson 1969, Goldman 1970, and Pheifer 1989. Forthe debate over property constitution, see Shoemaker 2003. For the debateover group constitution, see Uzquiano 2004a.)

2. Coincident Objects

The most popular reply to the paradox of material constitution is toembrace the conclusion: Lump and Statue exist at the same place at thesame time, but differ in their non-categorical properties, so it is possiblefor there to be two material objects in the same place at the same time.This view is sometimes referred to as the constitution view since it holdsthat the statue is constituted by, but not identical to, the lump of clay fromwhich it is formed. In a slogan: constitution is not identity. (Johnston1992, Baker 1997) Constitution is distinguished from identity insofar as itis an asymmetric relation: Lump constitutes Statue, but not vice versa.Constitution is also taken to be a dependence relation: As David Wigginsputs it, the statue “consists in” and is “nothing over and above” the lumpof clay (1968, p. 91; for more on the nature of constitution, seeWasserman 2004).

The constitution view is extremely popular, having been defended, insome form or other, by Baker (1997, 2000, 2002, 2007), Chappell (1990),Doepke (1982, 1996), Fine (2003), Forbes (1987), Johnston (1992),Koslicki (2004), Kripke (1971), Levey (1997), Lowe (1983, 1995),Oderberg (1996), Pollock (1974, pp. 157–174), Salmon (1981, pp. 224–9), Shoemaker (1999, 2003), Shorter (1977), Simons (1985, 1987, pp.



210–252), Thomson (1983, 1998), and Yablo (1987). Indeed, the view isso common that it has been labeled “the standard account” (Burke 1992).Why not join the crowd?

“Just try to walk through a wall,” quips the skeptic. “Two things can't bein the same place at the same time!” We will call this the impenetrabilityobjection, since it appeals to the common idea that impenetrability is themark of the material.

The constitution theorist has a ready reply to the obvious objection: unlikeyou and the wall, David and Lump share the same matter and the sameparts and it is in virtue of these facts that those two objects are able tooccupy the same place at the same time (Wiggins 1968). In short: spatialcoincidence (the sharing of place) is explained by material coincidence(the sharing parts). Material coincidence also helps to answer anothercommon complaint: suppose that Lump weighs 10lbs; David will thenweigh 10lbs. as well. So why don't you get a reading of 20lbs. when youplace both on the scale? “Why don't the two together weigh twice asmuch?” (Lewis 1986, p. 252) Answer: because the two objects share thesame weight as a result of sharing the same parts. (Zimmerman 1995, p.89, fn. 57) Here it is important to note that we do not calculate the weightof something by summing the weights of all its parts—weigh the bricksand the molecules of a wall and you will get the wrong result, since youwill have weighed some parts more than once. According to theconstitution theorist, weighing David and Lump involves the same kind ofdouble-counting.

Material coincidence may explain spatial coincidence, but what explainsmaterial coincidence itself? On the face of it, the claim that differentthings can be made up out of the same parts at the same time is no moreplausible than the claim that different things can be located in the sameplace at the same time. We will call this the extensionality objection,

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since it appeals to the common idea that wholes are individuated by theirparts in the same way that sets are individuated by their members. Moreformally, the principle is this:

Note three things about this principle. First, ‘P’ stands for the genericparthood relation, which is to be distinguished from the relations ofimproper parthood (x is an improper part of y if and only if x =y) andproper parthood (x is a proper part of y if and only if x is a part of y and x≠ y). Second, the extensionality principle is formulated in terms of a two-place parthood relation. Constitution theorists, however, typically employa three-place relation that holds between parts, wholes, and times. So, forexample, it is said that my baby teeth are a part of me at one time, but notat another (for more on the relation between the constitution view andtemporally-relativized mereology, see Thomson 1983 and Thomson1998). Having noted this point, I will now leave temporal qualifiersimplicit. Third, and most importantly, note that extensionality is atheorem in standard systems of mereology, the logic of parts and wholes(for more, see the entry on mereology). The problem, of course, is thatthe extensionality principle is inconsistent with the constitution view ifwe assume that coinciding objects occupy the same place at the sametime by having all of the same parts at those times. If David and Lumpshare all of the same parts, for example, extensionality tells us that Davidis Lump.

One obvious response to this objection is to deny extensionality(Thompson 1983). But this move comes at a cost, since extensionalityfollows from the standard assumption that the parthood relation is bothreflexive and antisymmetric:

Extensionality: ∀x∀y [x = y ↔ ∀z(Pzx ↔ Pzy)]

Reflexivity: ∀x(Pxx)



A second response is to weaken the original thesis and claim thatcoinciding objects share some but not all of the same parts (Baker 2000,p. 181; see also Doepke 1982, p. 52). There are various problems withthis response (see Wasserman 2002), but the most obvious worry is thatthis reply is inconsistent with another standard axiom of mereology,known as strong supplementation:

(‘O’ stands for the relation of overlap, which holds between two itemswhen they share a common part.) A third response is to claim that thecoinciding objects share all of their proper material parts, but differ insome non-material aspect (Rea 1998, Paul 2002, McDaniel 2001). Forexample, one might pursue the familiar Aristotelian idea that materialobjects are compounds of matter and form, where forms are conceived ofas abstract entities of some sort (“guiding principles” or “universalproperties”). One could then say that David and Lump differ in their parts,for David, but not Lump, has the form Statue as a non-material part. Theproblem with this response is that it gives up the popular idea that thingslike statues and lumps of clay are wholly material objects.

According to the constitution view, David and Lump share the samematter. As a result, those objects share many of the same properties. Bothhave the same weight, the same shape, and the same coloring.Generalizing, we can say that those two objects share all of the samecategorical properties. Of course, David and Lump also differ withrespect to their non-categorical properties (where these include temporalproperties, persistence conditions, and kind properties). So we should ask:what could account for these differences? How can two things that areexactly alike in so many ways still differ in these other respects? We willcall this the grounding objection since it appeals to the common idea that

Antisymmetry: ∀x∀y[(Pxy & Pyx) → x = y]

Strong Supplementation: ∀x∀y[~Pxy → ∃z(Pzx & ~Ozy)]

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non-categorical properties are grounded in categorical properties. (Foralternative statements of the objection, see Burke 1992, Heller 1990, pp.30–2, Oderberg 1996, p. 158, Simons 1987, pp. 225–6, and Zimmerman1995, pp. 87–8. Note: The grounding objection is sometimes framed interms of supervenience, but this is a mistake for supervenience andgrounding are importantly different relations. For more on this issue, seeZimmerman 1995, Olson 2001, and Bennett 2004. See also Section 5.5 ofthe entry on supervenience.)

One response to the grounding objection attempts to ground the non-categorical features of coinciding objects in relational facts about thoseobjects. For example, Lynne Rudder Baker suggests that David is a statue,rather than a mere lump of clay, because it is admired, reviewed, anddiscussed by those in the art community. Lump does not enjoy suchattention and it is for this reason that it differs in kind. (Baker 2001, pp.35–9) The problem with this explanation is that it seems to get thingsexactly backwards, for it is natural to say that David is admired,reviewed, and discussed by those in the art community because it is astatue (rather than a mere lump of clay). A second, related, responseattempts to ground the non-categorical features of coinciding objects inhistorical facts. For example, one might point out that Lump was createdby a claymaker whose intent was to create some clay, while David wascreated by a sculptor whose intent was to create a statue. One can thenclaim that the relevant difference in kind membership is determined, atleast in part, by these historical facts. Consider an analogy. A counterfeitdollar bill may be qualitatively identical to a genuine dollar bill, but thosetwo objects would still differ in kind since only one would be an actualdollar bill. Presumably, this difference in kind is explained by historicalfacts about how those bills came into being. According to the constitutiontheorist, the same kind of explanation applies in the case of the statue andthe clay. The general problem with this line of response is that it cannotbe extended to every case of constitution. Consider, for example, Alan



Gibbard's (1975) famous example of Lumpl and Goliath. An artist sculptsa statue of the biblical giant Goliath in two pieces—bottom and top halves—and then brings the two pieces together. In so doing, he creates a newstatue (which he names ‘Goliath’) and a new piece of clay (which henames ‘Lumpl’). The statue is then smashed into bits, simultaneouslydestroying both Goliath and Lumpl. The crucial feature of this case is thatLumpl and Goliath share all of their historical properties and appear tostand in the same relations to everything else around them. For example,both are created at the same time, by the same person, with a single set ofintentions. Both are put on display in the same galleries and gazed uponby the same patrons. Both are destroyed at the same time, in exactly thesame way. In short, Lumpl and Goliath seem to share all of their non-modal properties, while differing with respect to their modal properties. Inthat case there is nothing to ground the modal differences.

At this point we have reviewed the three most common objections to theconstitution view: the impenetrability objection, the extensionalityobjection, and the grounding objection. A fourth and final concern is whatwe might call the anthropic objection. (Sider 2001, pp. 156–8 refers tothis as the “arbitrariness worry”. For a classic statement of the problem,see Sosa 1987.) Thus far, we have focused on the question of whether twomaterial objects—like David and Lump—could exist at the same placeand time. But why stop at two? Consider the mereological sum ofmaterial simples that is made up out of all the simples that currentlycompose David and Lump. Those simples existed long before David orLump came into existence, so the sum is distinct from the other twoobjects. So now it seems as if we have three objects in the same place atthe same time: a lump, a statue, and a sum. But why stop at three?Consider the instatue that coincides with David whenever that statue isindoors and then goes out of existence whenever David is taken outside.(This example is inspired by Eli Hirsch's 1982, p. 32 example of incarsand outcars.) Now it looks as if we have four objects in the same place at

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the same time: a lump, a statue, a sum, and an instatue. But why stop atfour? There is also the tablestatue (that exists when and only when thestatue is on a table), the litstatue (that exists when and only when thestatue is in the light), the dinnerstatue (that exists when only when thestatue's sculptor is eating dinner), and so on. Ernest Sosa (1987) refers tothis multiplication of entities as “the explosion of reality”.

Defenders of the constitution view may run from the explosion and insistthat there are only two (or three or four) objects in the same place at thesame time. But what justifies this exclusionary attitude? Granted, wehumans do not normally concern ourselves with instatues, litstatues, andthe rest. Ordinary English does not even have sortal terms for discussingthese entities. But these are facts about our interests and linguisticdecisions: what reason do we have for thinking that the world correspondsto our conceptual scheme in this way? Why think that there is a one-to-one correspondence between the sortal terms in our language and thekinds of objects in the world? One way to explain this correspondencewould be to claim that reality is determined, in some sense, by ourconceptual scheme. But the constitution view is typically offered as analternative to anti-realist doctrines of this kind. Perhaps, then, theconstitution theorist should accept Sosa's explosion and say that ourinattentiveness does not exclude instatues, litstatues and all the rest fromthe realm of being? Perhaps all of those objects exist at the same place atthe same time, sharing the same parts and the same matter? Perhaps, butthis reply comes at a cost for, as we will see, accepting the explosion ofreality comes perilously close to accepting the doctrine of temporal parts.It is to this view that we now turn.

3. Temporal Parts

Consider the case of Interstate 5. I-5 runs through Washington, Oregon,and California, but the road is not wholly present in any of those states.



Rather, I-5 exists in different states by having different road segments ineach—there is the Washington segment of I-5, the Oregon segment of I-5,and the California segment of I-5. According to the temporal partstheorist (or four-dimensionalist), persistence through time is exactly likethat (see Quine 1953a, Lewis 1976, and Sider 2001). Just as roads exist atdifferent places by having distinct spatial parts at those places, materialobjects exist at different times by having distinct temporal parts at thosetimes. In the case of David Lewis, for example, there is the 1970ssegment, the 1980s segment, and the 1990s segment. More formally, wecan say that x is a temporal part of y at (or during) t if and only if (i) x is apart of y at (or during) t, (ii) x overlaps everything that is a part of y at (orduring) t, and (iii) x exists only at (or during) t. (Sider 2001, p. 60)Informally, we can say that a temporal part of something just consists ofall and only that object's parts at some time (or during some temporalinterval). If you want to know what a temporal part looks like, just look inthe mirror: what you see is your current temporal part. (Of course, youcan also see yourself in the mirror by seeing your current temporal part,just as you can see a road by seeing one of its segments.)

Consider now the case of U.S. Route 29, which runs from the westernsuburbs of Baltimore, Maryland, to Pensacola, Florida. As U.S. 29 passesthrough Charlotte it becomes Tyson St.—a street wholly located withinthe state of North Carolina. The two roadways in this case are notidentical, but they are partly identical, for Tyson St. is identical to aproper spatial part of U.S. 29. According to the temporal parts theorist,the case of the statue and the clay is just like that. Lump exists for someperiod of time and then “turns into” David. If the sculptor is unsatisfiedwith her work and squashes the statue, then Lump—but not David—continues to exist, in which case David is nothing more than a propertemporal part of Lump.

There are, of course, various arguments for and against the doctrine of

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temporal parts. (For a summary, see the entry on temporal parts.) Here,we focus on the relevance of the doctrine to the puzzles of materialconstitution and, in particular, to the challenges facing the constitutionview.

The impenetrability objection. The first problem for the constitution viewwas that it allowed for two material objects to exist in the same place atthe same time. The temporal parts theorist avoids this objection for hewill say that, whenever Lump and David exist, there is a single object thatexactly occupies the relevant location—a temporal part that is shared byboth David and Lump. Of course, the friend of temporal parts will admitthat there is a sense in which two material objects can exist in the sameplace at the same time, since two persisting objects that share a commontemporal will be partly present at the same location. But this is no moreproblematic than two roads being partly present at the same place byvirtue of sharing a common road segment.

The extensionality objection. The second problem for the constitutionview was that it allowed for two objects to be composed of all the sameparts. The temporal parts theorist avoids this problem in the case of thestatue and the lump, since he will say that those objects share some, butnot all, of the same temporal parts. Of course, he will also admit thatthere is a sense in which two objects can have all of the same parts, sincetwo objects that share a common temporal part will have all the sameparts at that time. But this is no more problematic than two roads thatshare a common road segment and, thus, have all of the same parts at thatplace.

The grounding objection. The third challenge for the constitution theoristwas to identify a ground for the non-categorical features of coincidingobjects. The same challenge can be put to the friend of temporal parts. Inthe case of the statue and the lump of clay, for example, we have two



objects that share all of the same categorical properties whenever theyboth exist—in virtue of what, then, do their modal properties differ? Thetemporal parts theorist could follow the constitution theorist in claimingthat the relevant objects differ in kind, for example, in virtue of theirhistorical properties or he could simply insist that the difference in kind isgrounded in the fact that the two objects have different temporal parts.(See Wasserman 2002 for more on temporal parts and the groundingproblem.)

The anthropic objection. The last worry for the constitution view was thatit postulated an unexplained correspondence between the sortal terms inour language and the kinds of objects in the world. The temporal partstheorist avoids this worry as well. On the standard four-dimensionalistpicture, persisting objects are ultimately composed of instantaneoustemporal parts and, for any collection of these parts, there is a furtherobject that they compose. Thus, there is a material object corresponding toevery filled region of spacetime. (Quine 1960, p. 171) For example, thereis an object composed of all and only the temporal parts of David whenthat statue is indoors. This would be what we earlier called an “instatue”.There is also an object composed of all and only the temporal parts ofDavid when that statue is in the light. This is what we earlier called a“litstatue”. In this way, the temporal parts theorist finds a place for all ofthe objects introduced earlier, and thereby avoids an implausiblecorrelation between the sortal terms of our language and the kinds ofobjects in the world. (Of course, he avoids this objection by acceptingSosa's explosion, which many take to be an even more objectionableresult—see, for example, Markosian 1998, p. 228.)

The temporal parts theorist thus avoids all of the objections facing theconstitution view, at least when we restrict our attention to the originalpuzzle of Lump and David. Unfortunately, matters are not so simple inGibbard's case of Lumpl and Goliath. Those objects exist at all of the

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same times and thus share all of the same temporal parts. The four-dimensionalist who accepts extensionality will thus be forced to concludethat Lumpl is identical to Goliath. But, in that case, he faces the followingkind of argument:

1. Goliath is essentially statue-shaped.2. Lumpl is not essentially statue-shaped.3. If (1) and (2), then Goliath is not identical to Lumpl.4. [So] Goliath is not identical to Lumpl.

(1) appears true, since Goliath could not survive being rolled up into aball, for example. But Lumpl could survive that change in shape, so (2)appears true as well. Finally, (3) appears to follow from Leibniz's Law.Goliath has the property of being essentially statue-shaped and Lumpldoes not, so Goliath is not identical to Lumpl.

The most popular reply to this objection is due to David Lewis (1971,1986), who defends a counterpart theory of de re modal ascriptions (like(1) and (2) above). According to this view, ordinary individuals likeGoliath and Lumpl are worldbound—they exist in only one possible world—but have counterparts at many other possible worlds. Thesecounterparts serve as the truth-makers for de re modal ascriptions.Roughly, we say that something is essentially F just in case all of itscounterparts are F and we say that something is contingently F just incase one or more of its counterparts are not-F. The counterpart relation isa relation of similarity, rather than identity, and, as with all similarity talk,claims about counterparts will be vague and sensitive to context. Themost important point in this connection is that names and other referringexpressions are often associated with kinds that determine the appropriatecounterpart relation for assessing de re modal claims involving thoseterms. In Gibbard's case, for example, we introduced the name ‘Goliath’for the statue and the name ‘Lumpl’ for the piece of clay. Thus, claims



that include the name ‘Goliath’ invoke a statue-counterpart relation,whereas claims that include the name ‘Lumpl’ invoke a piece-of-clay-counterpart relation. (1), for example, attributes to Goliath the property ofbeing such that all of its statue-counterparts are statue-shaped. And (2)denies Lumpl the property of being such that all of its piece-of-clay-counterparts are statue-shaped. Since the predicates in the two premisesexpress different properties, Leibniz's Law has no application. (Here, itmay be helpful to compare the current argument to Quine's (1953b)famous argument about Giorgione.)

4. Eliminativism

The simplest way of avoiding the puzzles of material constitution is todeny the existence of some of the objects that give rise to the puzzles inthe first place. For example, if one claims that there are no such things asstatues and lumps of clay, then there is no threat of having a statue and alump of clay in the same place at the same time. In this section, webriefly introduce three versions of this eliminativist view.

Eliminativism is often associated with Peter Unger (1979), who defendsthe thesis of mereological nihilism. Nihilism is the view that there arethere are no composite objects (i.e., objects with proper parts); there areonly mereologoical simples (i.e., objects with no proper parts). Thenihilist thus denies the existence of statues, ships, humans, and all othermacroscopic material objects. On this view, there are only atoms in thevoid. Since the nihilist denies the existence of statues in general, he willdeny the existence of the particular statue, David. Hence, he will rejectthe very first premise of the original argument for coincident objects.(Terminological note: Unger calls himself a ‘nihilist’, but his use of theterm differs slightly from current usage—see van Inwagen 1990, p. 73.)

The nihilist makes two main claims, one negative and one positive. Both

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claims can be challenged. Let us begin with the negative thesis that thereare no composite objects and no statues in particular. The most commonreaction to this claim is: Come on! Of course there are statues! This is aMoorean fact, more certain than any premise that could be used to argueagainst it. The nihilist may reply by pointing out that there is a sense inwhich statues do exist. In our original case, for example, the nihilist willsay that, strictly speaking, there is no statue, but there are some simplesarranged statuewise. Those simples jointly occupy a statue-shaped regionof space, jointly resemble the biblical king David, and jointly sit on somesimples arranged tablewise. So, loosely speaking, we can say that there isa statue of David on the table. Similarly for all talk of statues, ships, andother composite objects—wherever commonsense says that there is acomposite object belonging to the kind K, the nihilist will say that thereare some simples arranged K-wise and so, loosely speaking, a K. (Formore details on this paraphrasing strategy, see van Inwagen 1990, chapter10. For worries, see O'Leary-Hawthorne and Michael 1996, Uzquiano2004b, and McGrath 2005.) This brings us to the nihilist's positive thesisthat there are material simples. This claim can also be challenged (seeSider 1993, Zimmerman 1996, and Schaffer 2003). It was once thoughtthat chemical atoms were fundamental particles, until the discovery ofprotons and neutrons. And it was thought that protons and neutrons weremereological simples, until the discovery of quarks. One might think it ispossible for this process goes on and on without end, in which case ourworld would be gunky (i.e., it would have no simples as proper parts).The problem is that this possibility is inconsistent with nihilism, whichseems to imply that a material world must contain material simples.

A second version of eliminativism is associated with Peter van Inwagen(1990), who defends the following thesis about composition: there issome y such that the xs compose y if and only if the activity of the xsconstitute a life. According to this thesis, the only composite objects areliving organisms. Beyond that, there are only material simples. So, for



example, van Inwagen recognizes the existence of apple trees, but notapples. Van Inwagen's view is closely related to nihilism, but has onenotable advantage: it allows for the existence of human persons. Forexample, in the case of Dion and Theon, van Inwagen will say that Dionexists at the beginning of the story, since the activity of the relevantsimples constitutes a life (the life of Dion). But van Inwagen will denythat Theon exists, for the activity of the relevant simples only constitutesa part of Dion's life at that time. (Of course, the activity of those samesimples constitutes a life after Dion's right foot is removed, at which pointthe simples come to compose Dion.) More generally, van Inwagen deniesthe existence of what he calls “arbitrary undetached parts”:

Let m = Dion, t = a pre-operation time, r1 = the region occupied by Dionat t, and r2 = the region corresponding to all of Dion except for his rightfoot at t. If DAUP were correct, Theon would exist, for it would just bethe proper part of Dion that occupies r2 at t. Van Inwagen denies theexistence of Theon, so he denies DAUP as well. (For more on DAUP andits role in puzzles of material constitution, see van Inwagen 1981, Olson1996, and Parsons 2004.)

Van Inwagen's version of eliminativism is subject to the same objectionsraised against nihilism, but it also faces problems of its own. Here is oneworry. There are borderline cases where it is vague whether or not theactivity of some simples constitutes a life (consider, for example, thequestion of when, exactly, a person comes into existence or passes away).But, if it is vague whether the activity of some simples constitutes a lifethen, according to van Inwagen, it is vague how many objects exist. But it

The Doctrine of Arbitrary Undetached Parts (DAUP): For everymaterial object m, time t, and regions r1 and r2, if m occupies r1 att and r2 is a sub-region of r1, then there is a part of m thatoccupies r2 at t. (cf. van Inwagen 1981, p. 123)

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cannot be vague how many objects exist, since cardinality claims can bemade in a part of language where nothing is vague. Suppose, for example,that there are exactly one-million simples and suppose it is vague whetheror not the activity of those simples constitutes a life. Now consider thenumerical sentence that asserts the existence of (at least) one-million andone objects. (A numerical sentence is a first-order sentence asserting theexistence of some objects. For example, the numerical sentence that thereexist at least two objects is: ∃x∃y(x ≠ y).) If van Inwagen is correct, it isindeterminate whether or not the relevant numerical sentence is true, inwhich case one of the constituent expressions—‘∃’, ‘x’, ‘y’, ‘~’, ‘=’—must be vague. Yet many philosophers have held that the terms of first-order logic do not admit of borderline cases. (For a more detailedpresentation of this argument, see Lewis 1986, pp. 212–213 and Sider2001, pp. 120–132.)

A third version of eliminativism is often associated with RoderickChisholm (1973), who defends the thesis of mereological essentialism:For any objects o1 and o2 and times t1 and t2, if o1 is a part of o2 at t1 ando2 exists at t2, then o1 is also a part of o2 at t2. According to this thesis,parts are essential to their wholes, in which case the whole cannot changeits parts. Consider, for example, the Ship of Theseus Puzzle, in which theoriginal planks are gradually removed and replaced with new pieces. Themereological essentialist will deny that the resulting ship is identical tothe ship with which we began. The original ship goes with the originalparts. In the same way, the mereological essentialist will endorse theearlier arguments from Epicharmus and Chrysippus: the debtor cannotgain new matter and Dion cannot survive the loss of his right foot. ThePuzzle of the Statue and the Clay remains problematic, however, for thatexample does not involve any change in parts. In order to account for thiscase, we must introduce an additional principle: For any objects, the xs,object o, and times t1 and t2, if the xs compose o at t1 and the xs exist att2, then the xs also compose o at t2. This thesis says that the whole is



essential to the parts, so that whenever you have the same parts, you havethe same whole. We will refer to the combination of this principle andmereological essentialism as the thesis of mereological constancy. Thedefender of this thesis will say that, in our earlier case, Lump exists onboth Monday and Tuesday, for the same clay parts are there on both days.The same is true of David. The parts that compose David on Tuesday arepresent on Monday, in which case the first premise of the earlierargument is false: David did exist on Monday. In that case, the defenderof mereological constancy is free to identify David and Lump and therebyavoid commitment to coincident objects.

Viewed from one perspective, the doctrine of mereological constancy canseem fairly intuitive. When one rearranges the dining room furniture, onedoes not bring new furniture into existence—one simply brings existingfurniture into a new arrangement. In the same way, rearranging thematerial contents of the universe does not bring new material objects intoexistence—it simply puts existing objects into new arrangements. Thus,when the artist sculpts the lump of clay she gives that object a new form,but does not create a new object. Viewed from another perspective,however, mereological constancy can appear completely absurd, for ittells us that if we annihilate a single subatomic particle from David, thestatue would be destroyed forever. (More frightening still, if we annihilatea single particle from your body, you would no longer exist.) Themereological essentialist may reply that, if we were to annihilate a particlefrom David, there would still be a statue left in its place—call it David*.David* would not be identical to David, but it would be very similar (forexample, it would have roughly the same mass, the same shape, and thesame location). In one sense, then, we could say that the earlier statue isthe same as the latter statue. So we could say that, loosely speaking,David survives. Here is a second worry for the defender of mereologicalconstancy. Imagine that the artist who sculpted David becomesdissatisfied with her work and squashes the statue. All of David's clay

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parts would survive the squashing, so the thesis of mereological constancytells us that David, the statue, survives. But this seems absurd—statuescannot survive being squashed. We get an equally absurd result in theopposite direction. David's parts existed prior to the sculpting, so Daviditself existed prior to the sculpting. But how can a statue exist before it issculpted? The defender of mereological constancy may reply by pointingout that that the thing which is (currently) a statue may have existed priorto the sculpting, but it was not (then) a statue. In this sense, at least, wecan say that the statue did not exist prior to sculpting. Similarly, the thingwhich is (currently) a statue may survive being squashed, but it will not(then) be a statue. So, loosely speaking, the statue will not survive thesquashing. (For more details on this paraphrasing strategy, see Chisholm1976, chapter 3.)

5. Dominant Kinds

In the previous section, we examined various ways of resisting the firstpremise of our original argument: David did not exist on Monday. Let usnow turn our attention to the second premise of that argument: Lump didexist on Monday. Eliminativists like Unger and van Inwagen will rejectthis premise, since they deny the existence of lumps of clay like Lump.But there are other theories that lead to the rejection of this premise aswell. One such theory is the dominant kind view, which is defended byMichael Burke (1994, 1997a, 1997b).

Burke begins with the assumption that there is a single object present onTuesday. For the moment, let us simply refer to this object as Rex. Burkeassumes that Rex is both a lump of clay and a statue. This is a perfectlynatural assumption, but it is also problematic. As we have seen, kinds likelump of clay and statue are associated with different modal properties anddifferent persistence conditions in particular. To return to an earlierexample, the kind lump of clay is associated with the persistence



condition of being able to survive squashing, while the kind statue isassociated with the persistence condition of being unable to survivesquashing. Now consider the following principle: For any object o andkind K, if o is a K, then o has the persistence conditions associated with K(cf. Burke 1994, p. 598). If this principle is correct, we have a problem.Rex is both a lump of clay and a statue, so the principle tells us that it isable to survive squashing and that it is not. Burke concludes that theproposed principle is false: It is possible for an object to be a K withouthaving the persistence conditions associated with that kind. In particular,Burke claims that Rex is a statue and a lump of clay, but it only has thepersistence conditions associated with one of those kinds. Which one?Burke answers that, in general, an object has the persistence conditionsassociated with its dominant kind. What is a dominant kind? Burkeanswers that, in general, an object's dominant kind is the kind that “entailspossession of the widest range of properties” (1994, p. 607; for analternative account of dominance, see Rea 2000). For example, ifsomething is a lump of clay, then it must have certain physical properties.If something is a statue, on the other hand, it must have both physicalproperties and aesthetic properties. In this sense, statue entails a widerrange of properties than lump of clay. Hence, statue dominates lump ofclay. Rex therefore has the persistence conditions associated with the kindstatue. Rex, in other words, is just David. What about Lump? In theoriginal story, the name ‘Lump’ is introduced for the lump of clay thatexists on Monday. At that point there was no statue, so Lump's dominantkind is simply lump of clay. Let us now introduce the name ‘Lump*’ forthe lump of clay that exists on Tuesday. The lump of clay that exists onTuesday is also a statue (i.e., David, i.e., Rex), so Lump*’s dominant kindis statue. Hence, Lump ≠ Lump*. On Burke's view, the process ofsculpting a lump of clay into a statue destroys one object (a mere lump ofclay) and replaces it with another (a statue). The resulting statue is also alump of clay, but it is numerically distinct from the lump of clay withwhich we began. Burke concludes that Lump exists on Monday, but does

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not exist on Tuesday. Hence, the second premise of the original argumentis false.

The dominant kinds view has several advantages over the eliminativistviews discussed in the previous section. Most notably, the dominant kindsview recognizes the existence of ordinary objects like statues and lumpsof clay and allows for these objects to gain and lose parts. However, someof the objections raised in previous sections apply to Burke's view aswell. For example, the anthropic objection from section 2 can also beraised against the dominant kinds view (Sider 2001, p. 165). In addition,the view faces problems of its own.

First, there is the objection from commonsense. According to Burke,sculptors can destroy lumps of clay by doing nothing more than reshapingthem in accordance with certain artistic intentions. In fact, given certaintheories of what constitutes an artwork, the sculptor doesn't even have todo that much. Suppose that an artist takes a liking to a particular rock inhis yard. He gives it the title Rocky and invites art critics to admire hisnew work. If this is all it takes to create a work of art, then this is all ittakes to destroy a rock. After all, the rock at the beginning of the story haspiece of rock as its dominant kind, while the rock that exists at the end ofthe story has piece of art as its dominant kind. Hence, the latter rock isnumerically distinct from the former—the original rock is no more. Yetthis seems absurd. We are not gods. We cannot create and destroymaterial objects with the power of thought alone. Burke replies to thisobjection by distinguishing various readings of ‘the rock’. (1994, 596–7)‘The rock’ can be understood as a singular description that denotes therock (a single object). ‘The rock’ can also be understood as a pluraldescription that denotes all of the little pieces of rock. Finally, ‘the rock’can be understood as a mass description that denotes the relevant rockystuff. On the first reading, the rock from the beginning of the story is notthe same as the rock at the end of the story. But, on the second and third



readings, the rock from the beginning of the story is the same as the rockat the end of the story. The artist may destroy the relevant object, but hedoes not destroy the little pieces of rock that compose that object or therocky stuff that constitutes that object. Hence, there is a good sense inwhich “the rock” survives. Burke claims that this is enough to satisfy thedemands of commonsense.

A second problem concerns Burke's account of dominance. Burke claimsthat one kind dominates another when it entails a wider range ofproperties. This seems to get the current case correct, for there is a naturalsense in which statue entails a wider range of properties than lump ofclay. But other cases are less clear. Take, for example, the case of aperformance artist who poses his own body to form a statue. The relevantobject is both a human person and a statue. The kind statue entails havingcertain physical and aesthetic properties, but does not entail any mentalproperties. The kind human person entails having certain physical andmental properties, but—one could argue—does not entail having anyaesthetic properties. In that case, neither kind dominates the other, soBurke's account fails to tell us what the object is or what persistenceconditions it possesses. (For more on these kinds of cases, see Rea 2000.)

A third problem for the dominant kinds view is that it cannot be extendedto cover all cases of constitution. Take, for example, the Ship of TheseusPuzzle. In that case, we seem to have two objects in the same place at thesame time, where both of the objects are ships. Since there is a singlekind at issue, the question of dominance does not arise and Burke'saccount provides no help.

6. Relative Identity

In the previous two sections, we discussed various ways of challengingthe first two premises of the argument for coincident entities. Let us now

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turn our attention to the third and final premise: If David did not exist onMonday and Lump did exist on Monday, then David is not identical toLump. The premise follows from Leibniz's Law: for any x and y, if x isidentical to y, then x and y share all of the same properties. The denial ofLeibniz's Law therefore provides one way of resisting the final premise ofthe argument.

The denial of Leibniz's Law is sometimes associated with Peter Geach(1962, 1967), who defends a view called the relative identity theory.Geach's central thesis is that there is no relation of absolute identity—there are only relations of relative identity. In particular, identity is alwaysrelative to a kind. Thus, we can say that David is the same statue as Lumpand we can say that David is the same lump of clay as Lump, but it makesno sense to say that David is the same as Lump simpliciter. Theantecedent of the third premise is therefore nonsense, like saying ‘Davidis to the left of’. More generally, Geach rejects the standard formulationof Leibniz's Law as incomplete, since it includes a non-relativizedidentity predicate. In this way, the relative identity theorist is able toblock the third step of the argument for coincident objects. (Geach makesmany interesting claims about the behavior of relative identity relations.For example, he claims that it is possible for a to be the same K as b, butnot the same K*, where ‘K’ and ‘K*’ are sortal terms denoting distinctkinds. Take the Debtor's Paradox. In that case, we have an earlier portionof matter, M1, and a later portion of matter M2. According to Geach, M1is not the same portion of matter as M2, but it is the same person. In thisway, he is able to allow for the persistence of persons through changes inparts. For further details on Geach's view, see the entry on relativeidentity.)

The relative identity theorist may deny the standard formulation ofLeibniz's Law, but there is significant pressure to accept some version ofthat principle since it seems to capture a central fact about identity. An



obvious suggestion is to offer a relativized version of Leibniz's Law: Forany x and y, if x is the same K as y, then x and y share all of the sameproperties (where ‘K’ is a sortal denoting a kind). If Geach's relativeidentity relations do not conform to this law, one might worry that theyare not identity relations at all. And here we have a potential problem.Take the case of David and Lump. As we have seen, some philosopherswant to say that David is both a statue and a lump of clay (it is not a merelump of clay, since it is also a statue, but it is still a lump of clay). Lumpis obviously a lump of clay. Since there is only one lump of clay onTuesday, David must be the same lump of clay as Lump. But then, by therelativized version of Leibniz's Law, David and Lump must share all ofthe same properties. This, once again, seems false. Lump existed onMonday, but David did not, so there is a property that Lump has andDavid lacks: having existed on Monday. In response, the relative identitytheorist might appeal to another component of Geach's view. Geachsuggests that proper names are always associated with kinds. Forexample, ‘David’ is associated with the kind statue and ‘Lump’ isassociated with the kind lump of clay. Taking a cue from the counterparttheorist (section 3), the relative identity theorist may go on to claim thatthis association creates opaque contexts when we ascribe modalproperties. Take, for example, the following pair of statements:

1. Lump existed on Monday.2. David existed on Monday.

The relative identity theorist could say that (1) is true if and only if therewas a lump of clay on Monday which is the same lump of clay as Lump.(2), on the other hand, is true just in case there was statue on Mondaywhich is the same statue as David. Given these truth conditions, (1) istrue and (2) is false, for there was a lump of clay on Monday (the samelump of clay as Lump), but no statue. More importantly, on this analysisthe predicates in (1) and (2) express different properties, in which case the

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relativized version of Leibniz's Law has no application. So, one cannotmove from (1) and the negation of (2) to the conclusion that Lump andDavid are distinct lumps of clay.

A second worry for Geach is that it seems as if the relative identity theorycannot solve all of the puzzles with which we began. Take, once again,the Ship of Theseus Puzzle. In that case, we have the original ship ofTheseus (A), the museum's ship (B), and the custodian's ship (C). Theproblem is that B seems to be the same ship as A, which seems to be thesame ship as C. If the same ship as relation is transitive, we get theabsurd conclusion that B is the same ship as C. The relative identitytheorist might deny transitivity, of course, but this would give us anotherreason to suspect that relativized identity relations are not identityrelations, for transitivity seems to be a central feature of identity. (Formore on this worry, see Gupta 1980.)

A third and final worry for Geach concerns his denial of absolute identity.As many commentators have pointed out, this denial has drasticimplications for logic, semantics, and set theory. To take just oneexample, consider the set theorist's axiom of extensionality: For any setsA and B, if A and B have the same members, then A is the same set as B.Let A be David's unit set and let B be Lump's unit set. Is A the same setas B? The relativist must reject this question as ill-formed. It makes nosense to ask whether x and y are the same members, since this requires anotion of absolute identity (intuitively, ‘member’ does not denote agenuine kind, so ‘same member as’ does not express a relative identityrelation). As a result, the relative identity theorist must denyextensionality, which throws all of set theory into jeopardy. (For adetailed discussion of this and other concerns, see Hawthorne 2004.)

7. Deflationism



Imagine a debate between two friends over whether or not boats are ships.One party points to a rowboat and says, “That boat is a ship. After all, aship is simply a vessel that floats on water and the rowboat is obviously avessel that floats on water.” The second party demurs: “A ship is asufficiently large vessel that floats on water and the rowboat is notsufficiently large. So the boat is not a ship.” Clearly, there is somethingdefective about this debate. Note three things in this connection. First,there are two “candidate meanings” for the predicate ‘ship’, namely avessel that floats on water and a sufficiently large vessel that floats onwater. Second, neither of these candidate meanings is more “natural” thanthe other—unlike ‘water’ or ‘electron’, the predicate ‘ship’ does notcorrespond to a natural kind in the world. Third, the two parties to thedebate agree on all of the “non-ship” facts—in particular, both partiesagree that the rowboat is a vessel, that it floats on water, and that it isrelatively small in size. Given these points, it is tempting to say that thetwo parties agree on all of the facts and that their dispute is merely verbal.Note that this conclusion is consistent with the view that one of the partiesis actually mistaken. Suppose, for example, that the doctrine of semanticexternalism is correct, so that the meaning of our shared terms isdetermined by the overall pattern of use within our linguistic community(see the entry on externalism about mental content). That pattern of usemay determine that one of the candidate meanings—presumably thesecond—is the actual meaning of ‘ship’ in English. In that case, the firstparty in the debate is simply mistaken: the rowboat is not a ship. Still,there is a clear sense in which the debate is verbal, for there is a possiblelanguage (“English*”) that (a) employs a different, equally naturalmeaning for the predicate ‘ship’, (b) is adequate for describing all of thefacts, and (c) is such that the first party's statements come out true,relative to that language. Thus, we might say that the real dispute betweenthe two parties is over whether or not English is English*. And that isclearly a verbal dispute.

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Some philosophers have suggested that the debate over materialconstitution is defective in exactly the same way. There is no genuinedispute between Lewis and Unger, for example, over whether or notstatues exist. Both parties agree on all of the relevant facts—in particular,both parties agree that there are simples arranged statuewise. And bothparties agree that there are two possible languages (“Lewis-English” and“Unger-English”) where the sentence “Statues exist” comes out true inone and false in the other. So the real disagreement between Lewis andUnger is over whether English is Lewis-English or whether it is Unger-English. In other words, the debate is merely verbal. This kind ofdeflationist view is often associated with Rudolf Carnap (1950), HilaryPutnam (1987, 1994, 2004) and, more recently, Eli Hirsch (2002a, 2002b,2005). The issues raised by deflationism are extremely complicated andwe cannot hope to do them justice here. Instead, we will limit ourselves toa few initial observations. (For a survey of the central issues and acollection of relevant papers, the reader is directed to Chalmers, Manley,and Wasserman 2009. See also Eklund 2006.)

In the imagined dispute, we know exactly what the disputed term is(‘ship’) and exactly what the relevant candidate meanings are (a vesselthat floats on water and a sufficiently large vessel that floats on water). Inthe actual dispute between Lewis and Unger, matters are not so clear. Onemight suspect that the disputed term in this case is the predicate ‘statue’,but it turns out to be fairly difficult to specify the relevant candidatemeanings. For example, we might say that, in Lewis-English, ‘statue’simply means a collection of simples arranged statuewise. Whether or notthat is a plausible interpretation of what Lewis means depends in part onthe meaning of ‘collection’ (for discussion, see Sider 2009, pp. 388–90).In any case, it is even more difficult to specify an appropriate candidatemeaning for ‘statue’ in Unger-English. More importantly, even if we areable to specify the relevant candidate meanings, we will not havesucceeded in showing that the general dispute between Lewis and Unger



is verbal, for the dispute can be brought out without using the predicate‘statue’ (or any non-logical predicate, for that matter). Consider, forexample, a world that contains one-million simples arranged statuewiseand nothing else. And consider the numerical sentence (see section 4)which asserts the existence of (at least) one-million and one things. Lewisand Unger will disagree over the truth of that sentence. But that sentencecontains only logical vocabulary. Hence, if the two parties are reallytalking past each other, then they must assign different meanings to one ormore of the logical constants.

The most plausible suggestion is that Lewis and Unger assign (or, at least,intend to assign) different meanings to the existential quantifier, ‘∃’ (aswell as quantificational phrases like ‘there are’, ‘there is’, and ‘some’).And, indeed, this is where deflationists have focused their attention.Putnam, for example, writes that “[T]he logical primitives themselves,and in particular the notions of object and existence, have a multitude ofdifferent uses rather than one absolute ‘meaning’.” (1987, p. 71) We willcall this thesis—the thesis that there are many meanings for the existentialquantifier that are equally natural and equally adequate for describing allthe facts—“the doctrine of quantifier variance” (Hirsch 2002b, Sider2009). What exactly are the candidate meanings in question? Once again,matters are not so clear. Lewis could, of course, simply interpret Unger tobe using a restricted quantifier that ranges only over simples. On thatinterpretation, Unger speaks truthfully when he asserts “Statues do notexist”, since there are no statues among the simples. The problem withthis interpretation is that it seems manifestly implausible, given thatUnger will insist that his quantifiers are to be understood as unrestricted.Even more worrying is the question of how Unger is supposed to interpretLewis. He cannot, for example, say that Lewis is using a less restrictivequantifier, for that would be to say that there are things (that Lewis'squantifier ranges over) that do not exist (by Unger's own lights). Ungercould, perhaps, take a more holistic approach and interpret Lewis's

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assertion of “Statues exist” to mean there are some simples arrangedstatuewise. More generally, Unger could interpret Lewis by replacingsingular quantifiers over composites with plural quantifiers over simples,and by replacing each predicate of composites with an irreducibly pluralpredicate of simples. Once again, we should expect protest—Lewis willreject the proposed translation and insist that he is using singularquantification when he asserts “Statues exist”. These initial observationsbring out an important disanalogy between the ontological dispute andparadigm verbal disputes. In the earlier argument over whether or notboats are ships, the proposed translations are friendly, since the first partywill admit that he uses ‘ship’ to mean a vessel that floats on water and thesecond will grant that he uses ‘ship’ to mean a sufficiently large vesselthat floats on water. Given this disambiguation, the dispute willevaporate. The deflationist's proposals are instead hostile, for neitherLewis nor Unger will accept the deflationist interpretation offered by hisopponent. (For further discussion on this point, see Sider 2009, section 5.)

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change: and inconsistency | identity: over time | identity: relative | many,problem of | mereology | sortals | substance | temporal parts

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