La lógica de la Edad Media se presenta a los lógicos contemporáneos, filósofos medievalistas, historiadores y filósofos de la lógica, como un campo tan fascinante como de difícil acceso. Parece demasiado intrincado para casi cualquier investigador de estas áreas encontrar la punta del ovillo que lo conduzca a transitar una presentación ordenada e inteligible de la lógica medieval. Este libro pretende solucionar este problema. Para ello, presenta de manera ordenada y autocontenida los desarrollos lógicos de la parte técnicamente más evolucionada (...) de la lógica de la Edad Media: el siglo XIV. A diferencia de otras presentaciones no evade los hechos históricos y culturales que conforman el panorama de la época ni las cuestiones filosóficas detrás de los desarrollos lógicos, a fin de entender cabalmente las cuestiones técnicas y no desnaturalizar la propuesta medieval. Los primeros tres capítulos se abocan a cuestiones introductorias, históricas y a la genealogía de los tópicos más importantes. El cuarto capítulo está dedicado a la presentación sintáctica del lenguaje de la lógica medieval. El quinto y el sexto a la metateoría de esta lógica. El séptimo explora y presenta la semántica. Los dos últimos nos brindan una reconstrucción racional, en términos del lenguaje simbólico contemporáneo, de la lógica de finales del siglo XIV. (shrink)

Recently logic has shifted emphasis from static systems developed for purely theoretical reasons to dynamic systems designed for application to real world situations. The emphasis on the applied aspects of logic and reasoning means that logic has become a pragmatic tool, to be judged against the backdrop of a particular application. This shift in emphasis is, however, not new. A similar shift towards “interactive logic” occurred in the high Middle Ages. We provide a number of different examples of “interactive logic” (...) in the Middle Ages, all species of the disputation game obligatio. These games display a recognition of the importance of interaction in logical contexts and the way that interactive logic differs from single-agent inference. (shrink)

Kretzmann and Spade were led by Richard Kilvington’s proposed revisions to the rules of obligations in his discussion of the 47th sophism in his Sophismata to claim that the purpose of obligational disputations was the same as that of counterfactual reasoning. Angel d’Ors challenged this interpretation, realising that the reason for Kilvington’s revision was precisely that he found the art of obligation unsuited to the kind of reasoning which lay at the heart of the sophismatic argument. In his criticism, Kilvington (...) focussed on a technique used by Walter Burley to force a respondent to grant an arbitrary falsehood and similar to Lewis and Langford’s famous defence of ex impossibili quodlibet. Kilvington observes that just as in obligational disputation, one may be obliged to grant a false proposition and deny a true one, so in counterfactual reasoning one may be obliged to doubt a proposition whose truth or falsity one knows, on pain of contradiction. (shrink)

I argue that the medieval form of dialectical disputation known as obligationes can be viewed as a logical game of consistency maintenance. The game has two participants, Opponent and Respondent. Opponent puts forward a proposition P; Respondent must concede, deny or doubt, on the basis of inferential relations between P and previously accepted or denied propositions, or, in case there is none, on the basis of the common set of beliefs. Respondent loses the game if he concedes a contradictory set (...) of propositions. Opponent loses the game if Respondent is able to maintain consistency during the stipulated period of time. The obligational rules are here formalised by means of familiar notational devices, and the application of some game-theoretical concepts, such as (winning) strategy, moves, motivation, allows for an analysis of some crucial properties of the game. In particular, the primacy of inferential (syntactic) relations over semantic aspects and the dynamic character of obligations are outlined. (shrink)

“The problem of universals” in general is a historically variable bundle of several closely related, yet in different conceptual frameworks rather differently articulated metaphysical, logical, and epistemological questions, ultimately all connected to the issue of how universal cognition of singular things is possible. How do we know, for example, that the Pythagorean theorem holds universally, for all possible right triangles? Indeed, how can we have any awareness of a potential infinity of all possible right triangles, given that we could only (...) see a finite number of actual ones? How can we universally indicate all possible right triangles with the phrase ‘right triangle’? Is there something common to them all signified by this phrase? If so, what is it, and how is it related to the particular right triangles? The medieval problem of universals is a logical, and historical, continuation of the ancient problem generated by Plato's (428-348 B.C.) theory answering such a bundle of questions, namely, his theory of Ideas or Forms. (shrink)

In the summer of 1980, I was privileged to be on the teaching staff of the Summer Institute on Medieval Philosophy held at Cornell University under the direction of Norman Kretzmann and the auspices of the Council for Philosophical Studies and the National Endowment for the Humanities. While I was giving a series of lectures on supposition theory, I went to my office one morning, and there under the door some anonymous wag from the Institute had slid the pen and (...) ink drawing you see in the graphic. It represents "Supposition" as a dragon, making a rude face at the viewer. The tail of the dragon is divided — not entirely accurately, as it turns out — into the various branches and subbranches of supposition. If the details are not altogether correct, the spirit is certainly understandable. I have absolutely no idea who the inspired artist was, but I have the original framed on the wall in my office. (shrink)

The “dragon” that graces the cover of this volume has a story that goes with it. In the summer of 1980, I was on the teaching staff of the Summer Institute on Medieval Philosophy held at Cornell University under the direction of Norman Kretzmann and the auspices of the Council for Philosophical Studies and the National Endowment for the Humanities. While I was giving a series of lectures there (lectures that contribute to this volume, as it turns out), I went (...) to my office one morning, and there under the door some anonymous wag from the Institute had slid the pen and ink drawing you see in the picture. It represents “Supposition” as a dragon, making a rude face at the viewer. The tail of the dragon is divided — not entirely accurately, as it turns out — into the various branches and subbranches of supposition. If the details are not altogether correct, the spirit is certainly understandable. (shrink)