A Teleological Answer to the Special Composition Question 1
Jason Bowers Wake Forest University
Every contemporary answer to van Inwagen [1990]’s Special Composition Question faces counterexamples. I defend a teleological answer that avoids these counterexamples. The Teleological Answer claims that a collection of materials composes something exactly when there is a proper function, for the sake of whose performance the materials have been arranged. After demonstrating this account’s immunity to its competitors’ counterexamples, I respond to objections.
1. An Ancient Proposal: Composition is Teleological
There is a philosophical tradition, arguably beginning with Plato and Aristotle, which uses 2
teleology to distinguish composite objects from mere heaps of parts. This tradition argues that a
collection of materials composes something exactly when there is a proper function, for the sake
of whose performance the materials have been arranged. Composite objects, in other words,
have proper functions. Mere heaps do not. According to this tradition, composite objects are
goal-directed systems, whose parts are arranged for the sake of performing some function; mere
heaps, by contrast, are not goal-directed systems, and their materials are not united for any
purpose.
This ancient tradition, which appeals to teleology, provides a new and promising answer
to van Inwagen [1990]’s Special Composition Question: under which conditions, exactly, do a
collection of materials compose something? Must they be glued together, or what? The
Teleological Answer says that a collection of materials composes something exactly when there
© 2016. Please do not cite or distribute without the author’s permission.1
See Hartre [2003: 209-230], Korsgaard [2009: 27-44], Koslicki [2008: 100-108] and Reeve [2000: 43-45, 2
72-79].
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is a proper function, for the sake of whose performance the materials are arranged. According to
the Teleological Answer, the difference between composite objects and mere heaps is a matter of
teleology. The Teleological Answer claims, in other words, that material composition is
teleological:
The Teleological Answer: A collection of materials M composes a whole W of kind K
exactly when there is a proper function F, for the sake of whose performance M is
arranged K-wise.
To understand the Teleological Answer, consider an ordinary object, such as a broom. A broom’s
function is to sweep. To achieve that end, the broom’s materials have been collected and shaped
in a certain way. Its materials compose something because there is an end, for which they are
collected and shaped.
This proper function is what distinguishes an actual broom, on one hand, from collections
of materials, which have a broom shape due to coincidence or accident. If, for instance, a collec-
tion of wood, vines, and grass accidentally congeals in a swamp, so that they are precisely
broom-shaped, this would not be a broom. Those swampy materials’ broom-like shape would
not be for the sake of any end, function of purpose. Not only would they fail to constitute a
broom; they would fail to constitute any composite object. Intuitively, such a “swamp broom”
would not be anything more than its natural components, and certainly not a broom. The Teleo-
logical Answer explains why.
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The Teleological Answer also vindicates the intuition that, if someone wanted, she could
make a broom out of such a “swamp broom,” just by using it for the purpose of sweeping. If, by
being used to sweep, the materials acquire the proper function of sweeping, then this, according
to the Teleological Answer, would make the materials into a broom. Intuitively, if someone
found the “swamp broom,” took it home, and used it daily to sweep her floor, it seems that, years
later, she could truthfully point to it, saying, “that is my broom.” Yet earlier, before using it, she
could have pointed to the knot of swamp florae, and truthfully said, “that’s no broom.” What
accounts for these conflicting intuitions? The fact that we can endow things with purposes is not
enough. In addition, a thing’s status as an object must depend on its having a purpose in the first
place. To account for these conflicting intuitions, and to resolve their conflict, in other words,
we need the Teleological Answer.
As another example, consider a biological organ, such as a heart. A heart’s function is to
pump blood throughout the body. To achieve that end, the heart’s materials have been collected
and shaped in a certain way. Its materials compose something because there is an end, for which
they are collected and shaped.
The proper function of pumping blood is what distinguishes an actual heart, on one hand,
from collections of materials, which coincidentally or accidentally have a heart shape, on the
other. Again, if a collection of materials accidentally congealed in a swamp, so that they were
precisely heart-shaped, down to the finest detail, this would not be a heart. Those swampy
materials’ heart-like shape would not be for the sake of any end, function of purpose. Not only
would they fail to constitute a heart; they would fail to constitute any composite object.
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Intuitively, such a “swamp heart” would not be anything more than its natural components.
Again, the Teleological Answer explains why.
This paper defends the Teleological Answer. In §3, I illustrate and defend its superiority
to competing answers to the Special Composition Question, and in §4 I consider the difficult
case of naturally inanimate composites, such as rocks, planets, and stars. In §5 I consider
objections to the Teleological Answer, and finally, in §6 I close by considering the Teleological
Answer’s implications for metaphysics, particularly for research programs focused on
‘metaphysical priority’ or ‘grounding’. Before beginning, however, it is necessary to make a few
preliminary remarks about the notion of a proper function.
2. On Realism About Proper Functions
The job of a metaphysician, in answering the Special Composition Question, is to explain the
concept of material composition in a comprehensive, noncircular way. Ideally, this explanation
should eschew metaphysical extravagance. Ideally, it would appeal to only those phenomena,
which are uncontroversial to all philosophers. It would be best of all if we could avoid turning
our investigation towards value, and least of all teleology, the dark horse of all explanatory types.
Yet the standard answers to the Special Composition Question have failed, despite their enticing
simplicity. The most recent experimental research, moreover, suggests that our concept of an
ordinary object is bound up with teleological notions. Some philosophers take that discovery as 3
a reason to reject our concept of an ordinary object. We would do better, however, to answer the
Rose and Schaffer [2015] take this as a reason to reject our common sense, when it comes to the SCQ. 3
On the contrary, I argue that it is reason to accept the Teleological Answer.
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Special Composition Question once and for all, and acquaint ourselves with the teleological
notions, with which our concept of an ordinary object is bound up.
This paper’s purpose is not to develop a comprehensive theory of teleology, or to defend
general realism about teleology from all objections. The development and defense of such a
theory lies well beyond this paper’s scope. My task is more modest: it is to analyze our ordinary
concept of material composition in a non-circular way. This way, furthermore, appeals to
teleology.
By “teleology” I mean the general feature of having a purpose, a proper function, or a
goal. I mean anything that has a point to it, in the sense intended by the ordinary English
question, “what is the point?” In ordinary spheres of life, we assume that some things could
have a point, and that other phenomena are pointless. We assume, in other words, that certain
pieces of the world are for something, either by design, evolution, or some yet-to-be discovered
factor. Teleology, in my sense of the term, is nothing more than the phenomenon of being 4
explainable in this way. If a thing, feature, or event can be explained by talking about what it is
for, or what the point of it is, this means the thing, feature, or event has teleology.
I make no presumption about why certain things can be explained this way—at least not
in this paper. Perhaps, for anything to have a proper function, design and intention must be
involved; perhaps not. Perhaps, for anything to have a purpose, there must be adaptations to
selection pressures; perhaps not. The question of identifying the non-teleological basis for
See Bedau [1995] for a value-based analysis of teleology.4
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teleology is one thing; the question of how teleology can be used to answer the Special
Composition Question is another. 5
Nonetheless, we can still use familiar teleological concepts, drawn from everyday life, to
render teleology more comprehensible. Let us use the phenomenon of being broken, or having a
defect. A proper function, or a goal, is a process, which is such that, if x’s proper function is to
Φ, x’s inability to Φ would establish that there is something wrong with x. If x is an artifact, we
would say that it is broken or defective. The broom, which cannot sweep, is a bad broom, either
by being defective or being damaged. If x is a living creature, or part of a living creature, we
would say that x is injured or sick. The heart, which cannot pump blood, has a condition we
would call a disease, an injury, or a disorder; a hedgehog, who cannot flourish in the distinctive
way that makes hedgehogs happy and healthy, is sick or injured. Or if x is an intentional action, 6
which fails to achieve its goal, we would say that the action was unsuccessful or an accident.
The concept of being broken or defective is itself teleological, so describing teleology in
these terms could not count as a definition or an analysis. Nonetheless, it shows that teleology
can be described in terms that are familiar, if not reductive. The Teleological Answer treats
Compare my use of teleology to answer the Special Composition Question with that of Lycan [1984] to 5
solve the mind-body problem and related puzzles. Lycan [1984] argues for teleological functionalism about mental properties. On his view, pains, beliefs, and desires are all proper functions of physical brain states. In advancing this view, Lycan [1984] deliberately avoids committing himself to any single theory of teleology: “But how do I understand the teleological? On this general issue I have little of my own to contribute. I hope, and am inclined to believe, that the teleological characterizations … can be independently explained in evolutionary terms. … I do not claim that barely explicated teleology is good or desirable. I do not like it at all, myself. My point is only that the mystery of the mental is no greater than the mystery of the heart, the kidney, the carburetor, or the pocket calculator.” (Pp. 43-44, emphasis in the original.) As Lycan [1984] points out, his resultant analysis is still non-circular, and it either avoids or otherwise answers the objections of all its competitors. So goes Lycan [1984]’s use of teleology to analyze the mental. My aims in using teleology to analyze material constitution are similarly modest.
I follow Foot [2001] in assuming that one of the proper functions of an individual organism is to flourish, 6
and that one of the proper functions of an organism of a certain species is to flourish in a way that is par-ticular to that species. However, even without this assumption, one may still maintain that whole organ-isms have proper functions in an ecosystem or natural habitat.
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proper functions as types of processes, which certain items are supposed to perform, and which,
if they cannot be performed, makes their possessors defective.
3. How the Teleological Answer Avoids Counterexamples
As an answer to the Special Composition Question, the Teleological Answer’s merits are best
seen by contrasting it with the answers currently on offer: Universalism, Nihilism, and
Organicism. Each of these competing answers faces well-known counterexamples, which the
Teleological Answer does not face. Universalism, for instance, requires the existence of
infinitely many gerrymandered objects; Nihilism fails to recognize any ordinary objects, even
human beings; and Organicism denies the existence of mountains, stars, molecules, and artifacts.
Universalism about composition claims that any collection of materials, no matter how
distant or dissimilar, must always compose something. So according to Universalism, not only 7
are there such objects as shoes, ships, bits of sealing-wax, cabbages, and kings, but there are also
such objects as pairs of top halves of kings, sums of middle two-thirds of shoes, and millions
upon millions of life-size copies of the Mount Rushmore National Memorial, which lie buried in
the mountain, from which, according to Universalism, sculptors uncovered the Mount Rushmore
National Memorial. According to Universalism, there is a material object, whose only two parts
are your head and your favorite celebrity’s body, and there is also a material object whose only
two parts are your hippocampus and Antarctica. Universalism is typically rejected because it is
For defenses of Universalism, see Lewis [1991], Rea [1998], and Van Cleve [2008].7
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too permissive; it countenances these gerrymandered objects, which, ordinarily, we would not
want to believe in. , 8 9
The Teleological Answer does not recognize the gerrymandered objects that Universalism
does, since a gerrymander’s parts do not have any function that requires their parts to be fitted
together. There is no proper function collectively possessed by the pair of any two kings’ top
halves, for instance, or by the middle two-thirds of any pair of shoes. What distinguishes the
Mount Rushmore National Memorial, moreover, from its aforementioned duplicates, is that only
the Memorial’s parts collectively have a proper function. Specifically, they have the proper
function of representing Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln, and they
acquired this function as they were intentionally sculpted from Mount Rushmore. The
unarticulated duplicates of the Memorial are not like that. There is no proper function, for the
sake of whose performance their parts have been arranged presidential-head-wise. Nor is there a
proper function, for the sake of which your head is united with your favorite celebrity’s body.
Nor is there a proper function, for the sake of whose performance your hippocampus is united
Additionally, compositional Universalism has been attacked for giving rise to the problem of Dion and 8
Theon. See van Inwagen [1981].
There is an ongoing debate about whether ordinary objects are identical to mereological sums. Baker 9
[2000], Van Cleve [1985], and many others have argued that, since mereological sums cannot change their parts, and since ordinary objects can, it follows that ordinary objects are not mereological sums. Contrarily, Van Inwagen [2006] argues that mereological sums can change their parts, supporting his position by arguing that mereological sums are, in important respects, like ordinary objects. (For instance, in footnote 9, while discussing the syntax of the English phrase “sum of,” he argues that a collection of gold atoms could constitute two mereological sums, one of which we would call a statue, the other of which we would call a lump of gold.) Regardless of whether ordinary objects are identical to mereological sums, Universalism remains objectionable because of its ontological permissiveness, which outstrips the commitments of science and common sense alike. If, on one hand, ordinary objects are mereological sums, then Universalism entails that there are many more ordinary objects, of a far more arbitrary sort, than would otherwise be countenanced by either science or common sense. If, on the other hand, ordinary objects are not identical to mereological sums, then Universalism still entails the existence of infinitely many composites, which take up space, have material components, and, in short, are very much like ordinary objects, but which, nonetheless, are not ordinary objects at all, but rather things of a kind, that, again, remains unrecognized by both common sense and the sciences.
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with Antarctica. The Teleological Answer does not have to countenance the gerrymandered
objects that Universalism does. In this respect, the Teleological Answer avoids the hazards of
Universalism. 10
Nihilism about composition, by contrast, claims that no collection of materials, no matter
how situated, can ever compose anything. So according to Nihilism, not only are there no such 11
things as the sum of your hippocampus and Antarctica, or the pair of any two kings’ top halves;
there are also no such things as shoes, ships, or bits of sealing-wax. Nor are there cabbages or
kings. In fact, according to Nihilism, there are no composite objects whatsoever. Neither you
nor this piece of paper exist, according to Nihilism. Unsurprisingly, Nihilism is objectionable
because it fails to recognize the existence of ordinary objects. 12
The Teleological Answer easily recognizes ordinary objects, especially if they are
organisms, organs, or artifacts. Consider again our shoes, ships, sealing-wax, cabbages and
kings. According to the Teleological Answer, there are such things as shoes, because shoes have
parts, like the sole and the vamp, whose functions of covering different areas of the foot requires
them to be fitted together shoe-wise. Likewise for ships, whose proper function of seafaring
requires their planks, sails, masts and other parts to be fitted together ship-wise. Likewise for
bits of sealing-wax, portions of which are collected and applied for the function of sealing;
The parts of a scattered object can still be united for the sake of performing a proper function. A deck of 10
cards, for instance, might be scattered across a table, or across the hands of several card-players, while still composing a single object. This is because of various functions, such as that of facilitating card games, for the sake of which their constituent paper, ink, and plastic have been scattered, or for the sake of which they have been arranged deck-wise, or n-poker-hands-wise.
See Sider [2013] and Unger [1979] for defenses of compositional Nihilism.11
Additionally, compositional Nihilism has been rejected for an alleged inability to account for the possibil12 -ity of gunk, or infinitely divisible matter. See Conee and Sider [2005: 144-145] and Schaffer [2007], along with Morganti [2009] on monistic nihilism’s vulnerability to a similar objection.
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likewise for cabbages, whose parts must fit together cabbage-wise to perform their biological
functions; and likewise, finally, for kings, whose biological and civic functions require their parts
to be arranged into living systems, which hold certain offices. The Teleological Answer
countenances the existence of shoes and ships and sealing-wax, and cabbages and kings. In fact,
the Teleological Answer countenances many ordinary objects, since many ordinary objects are
either organisms or artifacts, whose parts are arranged to perform various functions.
In recognizing the existence of artifacts, the Teleological Answer differs from Organicism,
which claims that the only way for materials to compose something is for their activities to result
in life. Compositional Organicists claim that the only composite objects are organisms. If 13
Organicism were true, then there would be such things as you, your cells, and your organs. Yet
there would be no shoes, ships or sealing-wax, nor clocks or kitchen sinks. By recognizing the
existence of organisms, the Organicist view is more common-sensical than the Nihilist’s, and by
failing to recognize gerrymandered objects, the Organicist view is also more common-sensical
than the Universalist’s. Yet by failing to recognize artifacts, the Organicist view remains
objectionable and controversial.
Because artifacts are paradigm cases of things with proper functions, it should be clear that
the Teleological Answer has no problem recognizing them. Where the Teleological Answer
might seem to have trouble is elsewhere: somewhere the Organicist Answer also suffers. This is
the existence of natural, inanimate composites.
See van Inwagen [1990] for a defense of Organicism, and Merricks [2001] for a restricted variant, which 13
countenances only human beings.
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4. Natural Habitats and Nonliving Composites
The Teleological Answer recognizes natural, nonliving composites—caves, rivers, stars,
and the like—by recognizing that they have ecological proper functions. They are the natural
habitats of various creatures, and their nonliving components, such as air, water, minerals, and
topsoil, have come to function as life-support systems. Natural habitats have the proper function
of supporting life. As such, the Teleological Answer can countenance them. The teleology of
natural habitats is the Teleological Answer’s key to recognizing mountains, stars, and molecules.
The teleology of a natural habitats is best understood in three stages. The first is to recall
our earlier case, in which naturally-occurring, broom-shaped materials were made into a broom
through use alone. The second is to compare this “swamp broom” with physical portions of the
world. The last is to consider the widely-recognized phenomenon of environmental harm. Let
us proceed.
Suppose that Gunther finds a collection of broom-shaped materials—grass, vines, and a
branch—lying in a swamp. Together, the materials are perfectly fitted into a robust, broom-like
shape. The materials were not fitted by anyone; they just happened to be arranged that way
naturally. Because of their accidental arrangement, the materials do not make up a broom.
Gunther could point at the materials, and truthfully say, “that’s no broom.”
However, when Gunther takes it home and uses it to sweep floors (thinking “this will make
an excellent broom”), the materials acquire the function of sweeping. Perhaps this happens as
soon as Gunther decides to sweep for the first time; perhaps it takes longer. Regardless, the 14
materials will come to compose a broom. Later, Gunther could point at the swampy knot of
It takes longer. See §5, on the Wielding Problem.14
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florae in his broom closet, and without any false presupposition, ask, “how do you like my
broom?” Merely by using it to sweep, Gunther makes a composite object—a broom—out of
mere materials.
Next, consider the resemblance between Gunther’s use of the swamp materials to sweep,
and an organism’s use of a cave for shelter. Just as Gunther endows the swampy materials with
purpose, making a broom out of them through sweeping, so might a cougar make a lair or den
out of a cave. Just as Gunther’s broom could be damaged, once it has acquired the purpose of
sweeping, so may the cave be damaged, once the cougar has made it into a lair. Through its
proximity to the cougar, and by relation to it, the rocky materials become a natural habitat: a
naturally-occurring collection of materials, which acquire the proper function of a home for life,
as a result of their relationship to life.
In our example of the cougar, its natural habitat includes more than the cave. The
atmosphere, which the cougar breathes, the sun and moon by which it sees, and the terrain it uses
for camouflage, too, all acquire purposes. Indeed, just through the cougar’s life activities, we
find a world of composites arising from matter. The cougar is not special in this respect; any
organism, great or small, endows its surroundings with purpose. From material chaos, life draws
forth a whole world of organized composites. So if we begin with the case of Gunther’s broom,
and focus on its metaphysical details, we quickly notice that purposes occur everywhere we find
life.
Finally, if an argument is wanted for believing in natural habitats, it is this. It is undeniable
that human industry has harmed the environment. This harm does not merely consist in damages
to human health, or to the health of other organisms. There is also damage to the Earth’s ozone
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layer, its topsoil, its waters, and its air. These parts of the biosphere have been damaged by
pollution, and this damage consists in the fact that they are hindered from functioning as life-
support systems. Just as rust is harmful to a bicycle, in that rust prevents a bicycle from
performing its proper function, so has pollution harmed natural habitats by preventing them from
supporting life. This fact of environmental harm, in short, requires the kind of teleological
explanation that only natural habitats can provide. Nothing could be harmed merely by the
removal of its ability to support life, unless supporting life was already one of its proper
functions. Yet there are environmental harms, and these harms consist precisely in the fact that
physical environments are prevented from supporting life. So there must be physical portions of
the world, which have the proper function of supporting life. There must be natural habitats, in
other words. Their teleology explains how it is possible to damage a planet’s ozone layer,
atmosphere, water, and topsoil.
So in addition to recognizing the existence of artifacts, the Teleological Answer also
recognizes the existence of natural habitats, such as mountains, rivers, valleys, deserts, and
caves. It can countenance rocks, clouds, stalactites, and logs, since living creatures use these as
natural habitats, too. The Teleological Answer can countenance stars, since their light is a
functional component of many ecosystems and natural habitats. The moon and other celestial
bodies have long been a navigational device for insects and other migrating animals, including
human beings. Constellations and distant planets, too, have become part of human beings’
natural habitat, since they have been used by humans for navigation, measurement, and
chronology. Similar claims can be made about planets, comets, asteroids, and other stellar
phenomena. In fact, with the continued development of astronomy, human beings have enlarged
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their natural habitat further still, now coordinating their actions and efforts with the discovery of
distant quasars and other galaxies.
Among cells and bacteria, moreover, one finds a variety of atoms, molecules, and
chemicals, which function together as natural habitats at the microscopic level. Just as one can
harm the mountains or the topsoil, so can one harm an area’s nitrogen or magnesium. One can
damage the proteins in a strain of DNA, or harm a colony of microorganisms by affecting the
sodium, the methane, or the oxygen in its surroundings. By appealing to organic chemistry and
microbiology, the Teleological Answer can find the teleology necessary to recognize microscopic
natural habitats. In so doing, she has a method for recognizing certain molecules and various
chemical kinds.
By appealing to natural habitats, the Teleological Answer fares better than the Organicist
answer to the Special Composition Question. Unlike Organicism, the Teleological Answer can
countenance mountains, planets, stars, and molecules. Unlike Universalism, the Teleological
Answer can reject the belief in pairs of halves of stars, sums of middle two-thirds of mountains,
and undiscovered, subterranean duplicates of the Mount Rushmore National Memorial. So the
Teleological Answer avoids the hazards of Organicism, in addition to those of Universalism and
Nihilism.
5. Objections: The Wielding Problem and the Empty Habitat Problem
Other than skepticism about teleology in general, the Teleological Answer faces two main
objections. The first is that the Teleological Answer, like Universalism, is too permissive in the
objects it recognizes. If the Teleological Answer is correct, there would appear to be a short-
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lived material object, which comes into existence whenever two hands are clasped for the sake of
greeting, and which goes out of existence once the hands are separated. Similarly, according to
the Teleological Answer, there would appear to be a new material object whenever a set of items
are deliberately juggled, whenever some scraps of cloth are used to clean something, or
whenever an organism wields anything as a makeshift tool. Purposes are everywhere, and
emerge in strange circumstances; so the Teleological Answer, goes the objections, requires the
existence of strange composites. Call this the Wielding Problem.
The second objection to the Teleological Account is that it appears to entail a false
counterfactual claim: that had there not been organisms, there would not have been any stars or
planets. The Teleological Answer requires the existence of natural habitats is dependent on the
existence of their inhabitants. Call this the Empty Habitat Problem.
To answer the Wielding Problem, it is sufficient, first, to point out that it may take time to
grant a purpose to something; and second, to note that many of the cases, which are supposed to
be problems for the Teleological Account, actually involve commonly-recognized items. As
such, they are no counterexample to the Teleological Account.
First, consider Gunther again. We should not think that he makes a broom from swamp
faunae, merely by intending to use it as such. To see why, we need only imagine Gunther being
less decisive, first intending to make a broom, then intending to make a rake, then intending to
make a broom again, back and forth, without actually doing anything with the swamp matter. If
intentions were enough to grant something a purpose, this would entail, with the Teleological
Answer, that the swamp materials undergo an absurdly rapid series of transformations, from
broom to rake and back again.
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Nor should we say that purposes could be granted through a mere single use, since this
would entail that misuse is a conceptual impossibility. This is particularly clear in the sphere of
language: if we suppose that any single use is sufficient to endow something with a proper
function, then the word “baboon” can be made to mean “nuclear physicist,” if only the speaker
uses it that way. Thus, in the sphere of language, we would end up with a “Humpty Dumpty”
theory of semantic meaning: any word at any time means whatever the speaker wants, at the
time. Likewise, if we suppose that single occasions of use are sufficient to grant something a
proper function, we end up with a “Humpty Dumpty” theory of purposes, where my smartphone
becomes a garden trowel, if only my toddler nephew treats it like one, or a bag of doorknobs
becomes dog food, if only I attempt to use it as such.
To turn my smartphone into a garden trowel, we would need a pattern of habitual use, or
collective use. If my smartphone were used as a trowel regularly enough, for instance, or if a
social institution were established, which recognized the smartphone as a gardening tool, it
seems that, at least, would grant my smartphone a new function (albeit one it performs badly).
The Teleological Answer does not deny that one can endow materials with a proper function, or
make a new object out of an old one. All that the Teleological Answer must deny, to avoid the
Wielding Problem, is that objects get their functions instantaneously from a single occasion,
rather than taking time.
One may well ask: how much time? How many uses? What, in other words, are the
precise necessary and sufficient conditions for materials to acquire a proper function through
use? How many times must a collection of materials be used, before those materials are for
something?
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As with the establishment of semantic meaning, the establishment of proper functions is a
vague, fluid, and contextually sensitive affair. It is unlikely we could discover the exact number
of sweepings it takes to make a broom out of swamp faunae, for the same reason we could not
discover the exact number of utterances it takes for a sound to become meaningful. Just as we
may say, “it takes more than one use for a syllable to have linguistic meaning, but we cannot tell
exactly how many,” so may we say that it takes more than one use to endow something with
purpose, although we cannot tell how many. 15
Turning to the examples raised at the Wielding Problem’s outset, we find that, upon
closer examination, they are not as objectionable as they may seem. Consider again the case of
two hands, which are temporarily brought together in greeting. At first, we may be tempted to
say that the hands compose nothing. However, she might rather be inclined to claim that there is
a short-lived material object there: it’s called a handshake! What common-sense ontology, we
may well ask, would want to deny the existence of handshakes? Far from being the result of a
single use, handshakes rest on a long-established tradition of collective use. It seems that joined
hands may actually constitute something, when they are joined for a certain purpose, but that
similar joinings would not compose anything. Or consider the bits of discarded cloth, which are
used to clean something. It is not far-fetched or bizarre to suppose that someone literally makes
rags out of the scraps, and that, consequently, some new material objects—rags—come into
existence. Nor is it crazy to think one can make a set of juggling tools out of a few random
items. A defender of the Teleological Account does not always have to recognize such things,
since, depending on the case’s historical details, it may turn out there is only mere use rather than
This particular problem, in fact, is a version of the Sorites.15
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proper functioning. However, it is no disaster for the Teleological Account to recognize that
many artifacts are easily made, and that handshakes, rags, and juggling sets may be a few of
them. In so doing, she does not have to countenance a proper function for every bit of material
that gets used just once, nor does her view slide into Universalism. In this way, the Teleological
Answer avoids the Wielding Problem.
Unlike the Wielding Problem, the Empty Habitat Problem is not so easily solved. It
makes no false assumptions, and there are no subtle distinctions that would allow for an easy
dismissal. So the Teleological Answer’s defender must meet the charge directly, and hold her
ground when she says that a lifeless universe contains no composite objects. Can this be done?
It can. Although it might seem ludicrous to deny that material composites can inhabit a
lifeless universe, it is worth asking why it seems ludicrous. Here’s why. If we imagine a world
with no life in it (perhaps our own world in the distant future), it is perfectly conceivable that it
contains objects, which, in every intrinsic respect, are exactly like planets, stars, and galaxies. It
is natural to wonder, then, why such items could not be planets, stars, or galaxies, but could only
be matter arranged planet-wise, matter arranged star-wise, or matter arranged galaxy-wise,
respectively. What appears ludicrous, in other words, is that there initially seems to be no
independent reason for thinking that, in the absence of life, there cannot be natural material
composites.
Yet if we return to the Special Composition Question, we find that, in fact, there is such a
reason. At the root of this topic is the question of when, if ever, a collection of materials is more
than a mere heap of stuff. The point of inquiry, in other words, is to state exactly when
something is more than just a mere collection of materials, or when it is something over and
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above its matter. We are seeking after that special condition, whose addition to matter results in
there being something more than a heap of stuff.
Heaps of lifeless matter are the clearest, most common, and most paradigmatic examples
of purposeless items. To consider something which has no purpose whatsoever, and which has
no proper function at all, in other words, it is easiest and simplest to consider a nonliving lump of
matter. Nonliving heaps of matter are not only purposeless; they are the clearest cases of
purposelessness one can imagine.
The clearest cases of composite objects, on the other hand, are all items which have
proper functions. Tables, chairs, cats, dogs, and people are all clear examples of composite
objects, and they are also clear examples of things with proper functions. Items with proper
functions are the clearest examples of composite objects.
If, in light of these two observations, we reflect on the fact that a lifeless universe is a
purposeless one, this lends credence to the idea that a lifeless universe is much more like a heap
of stuff than it is like any composite object. Indeed, a lifeless universe is material, but it has no
purpose associated with it, nor does it interact with any living thing. A lifeless universe, in short,
is very similar to our paradigm cases of mere heaps. An lifeless universe is a mere heap of
matter, although physically larger than more commonly-imagined ones.
In light of the fact that a lifeless universe is a purposeless one, and in light of the fact that
teleology distinguishes clear cases of heaps from clear cases of composite objects, it is not far-
fetched at all to think of a lifeless universe as a mere heap of stuff. A lifeless universe is much
like our paradigm cases of heaps, in other words. The only difference is the arbitrary one of size.
That is reason to think that a lifeless universe is a mere heap, only larger. By emphasizing the
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purposelessness of a lifeless universe, then, and by pointing to the relevant similarity between a
lifeless universe and any other lifeless hunk of matter, a defender of the Teleological Answer can
meet the Empty Habitat Problem’s challenge.
6. Conclusion
By appealing to the notion of proper functioning, one can answer the Special Composition
Question in a new way which is not only interesting, but which also countenances exactly those
sorts of objects that we would ordinarily countenance outside of the philosophy classroom. It is
by no means uncontroversial, however, since it requires realism about proper functions, and, in
particular, it requires the existence of natural habitats, which have the function of supporting
life. If the preceding remarks are correct, however, the cost of such realism is easily paid, and
well worth the theoretical work it accomplishes.
If the Teleological Answer is indeed the correct answer to the Special Composition
Question, then proper functions end up playing a crucial role in the metaphysics of material
objects. They perform a great deal of theoretical work, in other words.
For ontologists who concern themselves with the question of metaphysical priority or
grounding, this means there is a question about the priority of purposes to their possessors.
Between a material object and its purpose, which is metaphysically dependent on the other? Is
the material object the primary substance, as Aristotelians thought, with the proper function
existing merely in virtue of its possessor? Or, as Plato and his followers thought, is it the other
way around, with material objects existing merely for the sake of fulfilling certain ideal
purposes?
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To the extent that such questions are intelligible, one would ordinarily think that the
Aristotelian position is correct. One would ordinarily think, in other words, that purposes exist
merely because material objects exist. The Teleological Answer, however, is evidence to the
contrary. If the Teleological Answer is correct, then there is at least one sense in which the
existence of composite material objects is explained by the existence of purposes. It is that
composite objects exist because of their purposes. The sense in which material objects are
dependent on purposes, in other words, is that a material object’s existence is based in the
existence of a purpose, for the sake of whose achievement various materials have been arranged.
Whether this type of dependence really is the sort involved in questions of grounding, however,
remains a question for further inquiry.
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Johnson, Monte Ransome. 2008. Aristotle on Teleology. Oxford University Press.
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Reeve, C.D.C. 2000. Substantial Knowledge: Aristotle’s Metaphysics. Hackett Publishing Co.
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Unger, Peter K. 1979. “I Do Not Exist.” In Graham F. Macdonald (ed.), Perception and Identity. Cornell University Press (1979)
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