What is the relationship between mental states and items of material culture, like notebooks, maps or lists? The extended mind thesis (ExM) offers an influential and controversial answer to this question. According to ExM, items of material culture can form part of the material basis for our mental states. Although ExM offers a radical view of the location of mental states, it fits comfortably with a traditional, representationalist account of the nature of those states. I argue that proponents of ExM would do better to adopt a fictionalist approach to mental states. In so doing, I suggest, they could retain the important insights underlying the extended mind thesis, while avoiding its more problematic consequences.

A well-established tradition has argued that it is not legitimate to attribute to Parmenides a Fregean semantics, i.e. the distinction between ‘naming’ and ‘meaning’. Nonetheless, Parmenides claims more than once (B 8.53, B 9.1) that mortals do name reality, although incorrectly. As many scholars have emphasised, because it is fair neither to conclude that mortals’ names are ‘empty names’ nor dismiss Opinion's account (i.e., broadly speaking, the mortals’ account of reality) itself as meaningless, it seems that Parmenides is suggesting that some kind of distinction between what names refer to and what names mean must be drawn. In view of this, what is Parmenides’ account of names?

My suggestion is that in order to explain the Eleatic philosophy of language (and the Eleatic account of names) a step back is required. More specifically, Parmenides’ epistemology has to be taken into account. Indeed, if we assume that Parmenides is arguing for an ‘epistemological disjunctivism’ – such that the veridical and truthful state and the erroneous and deceptive state are essentially different – it will be clear that he is further arguing for what could be defined as a ‘semantic disjunctivism’, so that true speech and false speech are essentially different as well.

Common-sense morality seems to tell us that a rescuer who can save either one individual or five other individuals from death has a duty to save the greater number. But contractualism, a moral theory on which principles must be justifiable to individuals, seems to imply that it is permissible to save the one. This is because a commitment to individual justification blocks the possibility of appealing to the aggregate amount of lives saved. Does contractualism really have this implication? If so, should we side with the common-sense approach, or is there any reason to side with the contractualist? In this paper, I first examine a new argument from Jay Wallace which claims to reconcile contractualism with a duty to save the greater number. I find the argument to be unsuccessful. I then suggest that common-sense morality doesn't support a duty to save the greater number as straightforwardly as it might initially seem as it might initially seem. I introduce two mundane cases in which the permissibility of saving either the lesser or greater number is intuitively plausible, and I offer some reasons to think that the permissibility of saving the lesser number coheres with our value judgements more generally.

What are the limits of the imagination in morality? What role does fiction play in moral thought? My starting point in addressing these questions is Tamar Szabo Gendler's ‘puzzle of imaginative resistance’, the problem of explaining the special difficulties we seem to encounter in imagining to be right what we take to be morally wrong (or vice versa) in fiction, and Gendler's claim that those difficulties are due to our unwillingness to imagine these things, rather than our inability to imagine what is logically or conceptually impossible. Using a wide range of examples, I argue that there is no puzzle of imaginative resistance and that to think that there is such a puzzle is to miss almost entirely the role fiction plays in moral thought. That, however, does not mean that there are no limits to what we can imagine in morality. In fact, I argue, the imagination is limited in morality, as elsewhere, by what is logically or conceptually possible. Together, those claims suggest that fiction and the imagination play a fundamental role in shaping our conception of the moral landscape. The paper concludes by drawing some of the consequences of these views for the nature of moral thought.

Rational explanation of action out of emotion faces a number of challenges. The Wrong Explanation Challenge says that explaining action out of emotion by reference to a purpose rather than an emotion gets it wrong. The Redundancy Challenge says that if explanation of an action by reference to emotion is sufficient then rational explanation is redundant. And the No Further Justification Challenge says that there is no more to say, at the level of rational explanation, about why people act as they do out of a particular emotion. Furthermore, even if these challenges can be addressed, there is a Problem of Expressive Action, since many actions out of emotion seem unpromising candidates for being guided by normative practical reasons of the prudential, instrumental, deontic or consequentialist sort. In response, I argue that many actions out of emotions should be understood as expressive actions guided by the agent's conception of normative practical reasons: specifically, their conception of expressive reasons.

It is widely assumed that a geometric model of boundaries, which prescribes a tripartite topological characterisation of the boundaries for material objects – fully open, fully closed, or partially open/closed – can be unproblematically extended from regions to material objects. Drawing on a disanalogy between regions and material objects – that only the latter move – I demonstrate the incoherence of (fully or partially) open material objects through two arguments relating to the ability for such objects to freely move. The first is a dilemma considering separately open material objects occupying their location directly or indirectly (located in virtue of their proper parts occupying locations). It is argued that movement in the former case would involve a miraculous topological transformation; whilst in the latter case, would involve miraculous reorganising movements in the object's proper parts. The second argument reignites a problem regarding the moment of change specifically for the movement of such objects.