2.2 Represenational Emergence and as-if Realism

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So far I have argued for a nomological form of metaphysical emergence—in

terms of HOV—whereby parts of a biological system are envisioned as

genuine emergent entities, starting at the level of the organelles of the cell.

According to HOV, the components of an organismic hierarchy are organized

to function so as to maintain the homeostasis of the organism at the

various levels in the hierarchy. A question may arise as to how it is that a

corresponding epistemological form of emergence may be possible so as to

describe the metaphysically emergent biological phenomena. Could there

be a representational/cognitive form of epistemological emergence that

complements this nomological form of metaphysical emergence? This

question of the relationship between metaphysical and epistemological

forms of emergence is central to any discussion of emergence/reduction,

as it would seem diffi cult to justify ontological claims without appealing

to epistemological claims, and vice versa. Given this intimate relationship

between metaphysics and epistemology, it may be that once a particular

ontic level has been identifi ed as emergent, then a whole new set of concepts,

hypotheses, theories, and so forth will have to be introduced to

account for the emergent phenomena.

Issues surrounding epistemological emergence and reduction are particularly

poignant when describing organisms. This is so because it would

appear that biology has its own set of laws and organisms have their own

sets of properties that, despite being dependent upon physicochemical

laws and properties, are nonreducible to them (see Mayr, 1969, 1996; Ruse,

1971, 2003; Gould, 2002; Lennox, 1993). In biological matters, an antireductionist’s

use of epistemological emergence accepts or implies that

biological descriptions may emerge that are not reducible, even in principle,

to physicochemical descriptions. Thus, the issue thinkers confront when

trying to give a description of organisms and the functioning of their

components can be put in the form of a question: Has the biologist given

us a description of organisms and the functioning of their parts that is so

basic as to be unachievable by a physicochemical description? In other

words, in describing organisms and the functions of their systems and

processes, does the biologist give us something that the physicist or chemist

leaves out?

The HOV I endorse with respect to the functioning of organisms can be

described within a biological framework that utilizes the language of teleology

or functionality. In the rest of this section, as well as in the following

section, I will be arguing that it is legitimate and appropriate to use this kind of language for describing the traits and processes of organisms in the

biological sciences. Thankfully, the language of teleology already is being

used by biologists, psychologists, philosophers, and other researchers to

describe biological phenomena (for starters, see the essays in Ariew,

Cummins, & Perlman, 2002; Perlman, 2004). As Ruse (2003) has pointed

out, researchers thinking about biological matters since Aristotle cannot

get around using the concepts and language of purpose, function, and

organization to describe biological phenomena, even if to describe phenomena

as if they were organized in a teleological manner (see Arp, 1998,

1999, 2002, 2005c, 2005d). Our descriptions of these kinds of entities seem

to resist a reductive explanation to the levels of chemistry or physics. That

researchers cannot get around describing biological phenomena as if they

were organized with goals toward homeostasis may already be an indicator

of an epistemological form of emergence. If one adopts a realist strategy

for describing the biological realm—or an as-if realist strategy (cf. Rescher,

1997, 2005)—then it is easy to see how one could connect an epistemological

form of emergence with a metaphysical form. Here, the descriptions of

biological phenomena resist reduction and must be described with a set of

emergent terms, precisely because that is the way in which we believe

biological phenomena are homeostatically organized out there in the

world. This may be why we cannot seem to jettison the language of

teleology/functionality from our vocabulary.

It seems something is left out of the description of an organism if we

say that, for example, a dog just is a mass made up of chemical properties

having certain kinds of bonds, subject to laws of electromagnetism, gravity,

and so forth. This kind of description might work well for, say, a rock

because we do not see the properties of a rock as engaged in coordinated

kinds of activities contributing to hierarchies and producing homeostasis.

We do not ask what the components of a rock are doing for the rock as

whole, or how they function, other than to say that the chemical bonds

comprising its matter are of the kind that keep it solidifi ed in some patch

of space and time. However, an organism like a dog would seem to require

a different kind of description as an entity having components whose

emergence is related to the coordination of those components and their

homeostatic outcomes in a hierarchically organized system; otherwise, one

is in danger of underdescribing a dog’s subsystems and processes just as a

mass made up of chemical properties having certain kinds of bonds, subject

to laws of electromagnetism, gravity, and so forth. There is more to a

description of a dog’s kidney, for example, than can be captured by the

language of physical laws and chemical bonds. As a biologically emergent entity, the dog’s kidney has a specifi c function it performs in the dog’s

digestive subsystem, and it is related to other organs in the system as a

whole in such a way so as to aid in the maintenance of the dog’s life.

Above, I hinted that it is possible for one to adopt either a realist or an

as-if realist strategy when describing organisms. This may sound somewhat

counterintuitive, given the existence of pragmatic, neo-pragmatic, and

other forms of coherentist, intuitionist, or constructivist antirealisms that

are prevalent in philosophy of science. In what follows, I will argue that

it may be useful for a researcher to think like an as-if realist when describing

the traits and processes of organisms. I want to give further specifi city

to the representational form of epistemological emergence I endorse, as

well as show that an as-if form of realism in the epistemological realm can

be combined with HOV, which is a form of nomological emergentism. The

end result will be a better understanding of the epistemological views that

underpin my metaphysical views in philosophy of science and philosophy

of biology (also see Arp, 2005c, 2005d).

Godfrey-Smith (1996, p. 7) is correct in noting that realism and a “Deweystyle

pragmatism” are two of the prominent competing metaphysical

worldviews in the contemporary philosophical scene. Realists admit the

existence of mind-independent realities (e.g., Fumerton, 2002; Plantinga,

2000; Devitt, 1997; Kitcher, 1993; Wright, 1993; cf. Dummett, 1982), and

a host of pragmatists consider themselves antirealists unwilling to admit

the existence of mind-independent realities (e.g., Rorty, 1998; Putnam,

1981, 1987, 1995; Brandom, 1994; Habermas, 1984; cf. Dickstein, 1998;

Will, 1996). It seems to me that the antirealist has scored a victory in

noting that there is a veil of perceptions and ideas that mediates between

the world (if it exists) and the mind. In fact, one could consider this veil

of perceptions and ideas—and its attendant skepticism—to be the fundamental

insight that drives any antirealist project. Given the existence of

our perceptions, there is, in principle, no way to know the nature of reality

with absolute certainty or to know whether a reality beyond our perceptions

really exists. When all is said and done, a philosopher, scientist, or any

other kind of serious thinker ultimately has to confront the question as to

whether there are mind-independent realities or not, and such thinkers

will have to choose a side in the debate.

When Wittgenstein (1953) argued that a word’s meaning is contextualized

by and dependent upon the language-games of a particular group, this

went a long way in convincing contemporary thinkers that propositions,

sets, numbers, and truth itself need not be abstract objects. Carruthers

(1993, p. 240) takes this idea one step further in his criticism of realism:

One can thus believe in a class of objective analytical truths: believing that all

internal relations between senses were determined, independently of us, as soon as

the senses of our expressions were determined; believing, indeed, that these are

genuine objects of discovery. And one can believe that an analytic truth is an eternal

truth: constraining our talk about remote items, and about counter-factual situations,

just as much as it constrains our talk about the present. And yet one can, consistently

with both beliefs, believe that sense depends for its existence upon our existence:

only coming to exist when we fi rst begin to use a language in which that sense may

be expressed.

Rorty takes one more step further and disposes of the transcendent altogether.

According to Rorty, we cannot get beyond our own language

setting because there is nothing beyond our own language setting. Rorty

(1991, pp. 22–23) calls his view pragmatic and, accordingly, pragmatists

see the gap between truth and justifi cation not as something to be bridged by

isolating a natural and trans-cultural sort of rationality which can be used to criticise

certain cultures and praise others, but simply as the gap between the actual good

and the possible better. From a pragmatist point of view, to say that what is rational

for us now to believe may not be true, is simply to say that somebody may come

up with a better idea. . . . For pragmatists, the desire for objectivity is not the desire

to escape limitations of one’s community, but simply the desire for as much

intersubjective agreement as possible, the desire to extend the reference of “us” as

far as we can.

In Rorty’s pragmatic setting, the so-called “objective” would extend only

so far as the accepted ideas of a particular scientifi c or philosophic community.

Also, this objective would be the result of a common consensus.

Such views presented by Carruthers and Rorty wed pragmatism to

constructivism and antirealism (cf. Fumerton, 2002; Kulp, 1996; Young,

1995; Rosen, 1994; Collins & Pinch, 1993). This is so because, from this

perspective, ideas are constructed by minds (constructivism), and, insofar

as they are constructed, these ideas have no independent existence

without minds doing the constructing (antirealism). Peirce (1966, p. 96)

summarized the intersection of these positions effectively when he stated

that we

may fancy that this (pragmatic settlement of opinion) is not enough for us, and

that we seek, not merely an opinion, but a true opinion. But put this fancy to the

test and it proves groundless; for as soon as a fi rm belief is reached we are entirely

satisfi ed, whether the belief be true or false. And it is clear that nothing out of the

sphere of our knowledge can be our object, for nothing which does not affect the

mind can be a motive for mental effort. The most that can be maintained is, that

we seek for a belief that we think to be true.

From the Rortyan pragmatic perspective, positing a realm of abstract

objects whose existence, by defi nition, exceeds the common pool of constructed

ideas seems to be a form of philosophical elitism or esotericism

that can only lead to, in the words of Tiles (1988, p. 26), “ways of insulating

faulty doctrines from proper criticism, ways of begging questions in

favor of certain conceptions of thought and its activity, the mind and its

relation to objects.” From their epistemological and metaphysical high

horses—divorced from experience—such intellectualistic, rationalistic, and

logicistic philosophers, scientists, and mathematicians could then arbitrarily

claim “what is” and “what is not” precisely by pre-determining a

priori notions and apodictic realities. This comprises one of the dangers

associated with realism (cf. Dewey, 1982).

Some pragmatists do think that there can be a positive role for truth

understood not as an apodictic and dogmatically determined eternal certainty

discovered by the scientifi c community but as an ongoing process

of formulation and reformulation in which no beliefs or propositions—

even those associated with logical laws (Dewey, 1982; Erdmann, 1892)—

are immune to open-ended discernment and the possibility of falsifi cation

(Dewey, 1941, 1982; Rorty, 1991, 1993, 1998). In this sense, classical pragmatism

like that of James (1975) and Dewey (1982) began the process of

replacing a realist, foundationalist notion of truth with an antirealist

coherentism and helped pave the way for neo-pragmatism as well as defl ationist

theories that deny any reality to truth whatsoever. Alston (1996,

pp. 189–190) has expressed the move away from realism toward pragmatism

in this manner: “The truth of a truth bearer consists not in its relation

to some ‘transcendent’ state of affairs, but in the epistemic virtues the

former displays within our thought, experience, and discourse. Truth value

is a matter of whether, or the extent to which, a belief is justifi ed, warranted,

rational, well grounded, or the like.”

The end result of pragmatism is a probabilism—the quest for truth and

certainty becomes nothing more than a quest for inquiry and security

(Dewey, 1929a; Peirce, 1960; Putnam, 1995; Rorty, 1982, 1987, 1993). The

pragmatic attempt to “fi x belief” may leave some thinkers—for example,

realists—wanting for a more robust epistemological justifi cation and metaphysical

resting place in the truth. In this sense, analogous to Moore’s open

question regarding the good, namely, “It may bring us pleasure, but is it

good?” a realist may ask of our epistemologies, “It may be a rationally justifi

ed belief in terms of intellectual and technological fecundity, BUT IS IT

TRUE!” Recalling Peirce’s (1966) idea that an open-ended science will fi x

belief, one wonders how such an account serves to quell the agitation of doubt. It seems that, from the pragmatic perspective, metaphysics as such

is replaced by an epistemological process and, further, this process must

rest content with a kind of contingent truth. One may ask, “Whence is

derived the ultimate justifi catory force?” Consider the words of Mack (1968,

pp. 72–73) in the fi nal pages of his work concerning pragmatism: “The

notion of the necessary specifi city of any appeal to immediate experience

points to a conclusion about the quest for a ‘resting-place’ for thought:

thought never does fi nd a fi nal resting-place in Reality, but is always carried

on to new problems—there is no complete rest for thought except in the

sense in which consummatory experience is fi nal.”

However, we never can reach this consummatory experience. How can

the resting content with a contingent truth be made consistent with the

quelling of doubt entailed in the fi xation of belief? Belief would seem

to be fi xed momentarily on what is taken to be the truth of the times.

This may satisfy a lot of thinkers, but there will always be those who

remain unsatisfi ed. Peregrin (1996, p. 4) puts this dissatisfaction with

pragmatism another way: “The trouble with pragmatic theories of truth

is that they seem to give us too much freedom with respect to

truth. . . . Truth becomes far too circumstances-dependent, which is contrary

to the intutition that some of our statements, if they are true, are

true forever.”

Enter the as-if realist. It is possible to show the value of thinking like a

realist, even for the pragmatist. The commitment to the pursuit of abstract

objects could become instrumental in guiding the life of philosophy and

science in a limited, as-if manner. Kant (1929) spoke of the value of the

regulative ideas as not only aiding in the rounding off of our systematic

picture of reality but also prompting us to do further research and investigation.

Thinkers are to act as if there is god, cosmos, and soul in order to

further benefi t our intellectual and moral lives. According to Kant, such a

concession—albeit at root agnostic—has pragmatic benefi t in keeping both

our scientifi c endeavors and the philosophical dialectic alive (also see Arp,

2007c). So too, working as if there are truth conditions to be satisfi ed “out

there” has a similar function and appeal. If we behave as if we hold certain

beliefs about the truth conditions surrounding propositions, even if we are

not completely clear about the metaphysical reality—the ding-an-sich, as it

were—of those conditions, then such beliefs can be benefi cial to us in our

intellectual pursuits. Something valuable for the pragmatist can be gleaned

from a realist metaphysics and methodology when such realism is tempered

in this as-if manner. This tempered version of realism can be referred

to as as-if realism.

I want to put forward an epistemological and metaphysical project that

acknowledges the strengths of both antirealism and realism. The antirealist

is correct about ultimately not being able to know, for certain, whether

there are things that exist outside of the mind. The realist is correct that,

despite this ignorance, we can and should act as if there are realities outside

of the mind to be known. For, as I will show, such as-if realist thinking

has pragmatic value, and it would be miraculous if our descriptions did

not match up with some reality.

A few questions now emerge. What does this as-if realism offer to us that

cannot be had by a pragmatist community of belief holders? After all, as

McTaggart (1921) and Sellars (1963) have shown, it is possible to hold both

that truth consists in a correspondence with facts and that these facts are

mind-dependent realities. Does this as-if realism regarding truth do any real

work for a scientifi c or philosophic community? What does this realism

offer us over and above a Rortyan-style pragmatism such that this pragmatism

alone is epistemologically and/or metaphysically insuffi cient?

I will attempt one line of response to these questions by utilizing, and

modifying, an argument that has its roots in the realism of Aristotle and

Plato called the argument from the sciences. In the Metaphysics—for example,

at 1025b20, 1032b5, 1037a5–1038b—Aristotle notes that in order to do

science, we cannot have a science of particulars, since such particulars are

constantly in fl ux as well as indefi nable; hence, there must be some general

essence or form that comprises the object of a science. For example, anthropology

cannot deal with the particular instances of humankind like Plato,

Napoleon, or Elvis Presley per se (principally because these particular

instances are constantly changing and cannot really be defi ned) but must

instead deal with the general essence of “humanity” in which Plato et al.

share per se (in this sense, anthropology can deal with Plato, Napoleon, or

any other individual human, at best, in a per accidens fashion). According

to Aristotle, when we do anthropology, we take as the object of our science

a really existing humanity or human nature. Aristotle’s naive form of

realism can be traced back to Plato. In the Republic at 511c, Plato puts

forward a realist position, arguing that “pure ideas” or universals/essences/

forms make things in the visible world both be what they are and be known

as what they are (see Vlastos, 1981; Annas, 1981).

This realist argument from the sciences continues throughout medieval

philosophy with Thomas Aquinas (e.g., Prooemium, Com. Meta.; see Wippel,

1984) and Duns Scotus (1995). We can also fi nd this realist argument

present in Descartes’ rationalism, Husserl’s phenomenology, and Frege’s

attack of psychologism. Clarke (1992, pp. 272–273) notes that Descartes’

“common sense” ideas regarding the sciences are “very close to scholastic

philosophy.” Also, Husserl (1995, p. 154) takes “world, Nature, space, time,

psychological being, man, psyche, animateorganism, social community,

and culture” to be realities that make “genuine sciences” possible. For Frege

(1964, 1966, 1977, 1979), senses (or meanings) and thoughts (or propositions)

are abstract objects that form the very basis for our ability to

communicate beliefs and claims to one another in the sciences, and the

True and the False are unique kinds of abstract objects that justify our

beliefs and claims.

The case can be made that such notions as “the nature of AIDS,” “the

function of the heart,” and “what is best for my child,” as well as the

propositions communicated about these notions, not only are nonreducible

to the beliefs of a particular thinking community but also actually are

abstract objects having a truth value that is discoverable. This is to say that

there are genuine truth conditions pertaining to propositions and the

objects they name that cannot be reducible to assertibility conditions—the

circumstances under which thinkers would be justifi ed in asserting such

propositions—in a Dummett-style (1978) antirealist fashion.

When scientists, researchers, and other thinkers get together to fi gure

out what a disease like AIDS actually is so they can cure it, they are wondering

about the very nature of AIDS itself, not about Sue’s belief regarding

the nature of AIDS or the scientifi c community’s beliefs regarding the nature

of AIDS. So too, when people are trying to discern the function of the

heart, they really are concerned with the actual functioning of the heart,

irrespective of the myriad thought experiments and counterexamples that

present themselves through the intersubjective community of minds in

the dialectic of journal pages and conferences. Further, when Johnny’s

parents are considering what is best for him, they want what is truly best

for him, not what Johnny believes is best for him or what the pediatrician

thinks is best for him, or even what they as parents take to be best for him.

Johnny’s parents want simply what is best for Johnny and will adjust their

beliefs as well as assent to those propositions that align themselves with

what is truly best for him.

We can grant that a parent, scientist, or any other thinker has to make

decisions, conduct experiments, or construct theories based upon the best

available information at the time. Further, we can grant that the circumstances

under which persons are justifi ed in asserting propositions become

signifi cant in terms of the outcome of our belief systems. However, there

seems to be an implicit recognition that the beliefs of the particular thinking

community ultimately are not going to be enough to justify our beliefs—we may have to settle for Lockean probabilism, but we really want

Cartesian clarity and distinction. Research continues to be done concerning

AIDS, philosophers of science and biology continue to discuss the

heart’s function, and moral theorists continue to debate what is best for

some Johnny knowing that the current theory or set of beliefs is not going

to be the “end of the story.” In this sense, it could be said that “the nature

of AIDS,” “the functioning of the heart,” and “what is best for Johnny” are

taken to be something real, “out there” so to speak, having properties and

aspects that hold true irrespective of our beliefs regarding them.

It may be that realism is reproachable and dispensable because it suffers

on at least two fronts: it calls us to engage in a Sisyphean epistemological

task promising some kind of knowledge that cannot be had, and it calls

us to accept a notion of truth and other metaphysical entities that are

really delusional “wretched makeshifts” to use a Freudian (Freud, 1964)

term. However, we seem to think and work like as-if realists. At present,

problems concerning vagueness, other minds, logical paradoxes, truth

gaps, and the like plague epistemologists, mathematicians, logicians, and

metaphysicians. It would seem that no one—realist and antirealist alike—

seriously doubts that these problems cannot be solved. The work being

done in these areas betrays antirealist or intuitionist sentiments. Mathematicians

right now are trying to solve the Goldbach’s conjecture problem

(Vaughan, 1997), or the problem associated with mapping artifi cial languages

onto natural languages (Hodges, 2001). Epistemologists are mounting

responses to the preface paradox (Rosenberg, 2002), the liar paradox

(Gupta, 2001), and the indexical identifi cation problem (Corazza, 2002).

Logicians are devising “supertruths” to deal with vague predicates (Lambert,

2001), and metaphysicians are debating the existence of consciousness and

the nature of the heart’s functioning (Chalmers, 1996; Perlman, 2004; Arp,

2006b).

Contrary to those who align themselves with intuitionism or constructivism,

thinkers, in fact, must believe that the principle of bivalence holds

with respect to past events, or other minds, or certain mathematical and

logical issues; otherwise they would not (in some cases) spend their entire

lives devoted to solving these problems. All of these thinkers—intuitionists,

constructivists, realists, and pragmatists alike—do their problem

solving work as if the answer is out there to be had. Pragmatists may claim,

along with Dewey (1951), that a lot of the work done by epistemologists

and metaphysicians aims at some “unapproachable” or “irrelevant” truth.

However, why then do we aim at the truth (and falsity) concerning these

issues? Why should such work matter to us if we didn’t think that there was something real to be gained by doing the work? It would seem that

the spirit of realism and its methodology is of value to thinking communities

whether they choose to admit this or not.

Now, if this is an accurate description of how the scientifi c, philosophic,

or any other research community works (and if it is the case that I am not

setting up some kind of false dilemma), then we can draw one of two

conclusions: either (1) there are these realities out there, or (2) we act as

if there are these realities out there waiting to be discovered, even though

we know we could never discover them because we can’t have a god’s eye

view, or we are always “trapped” behind a veil of our own ideas, or they

are just not there. If we deny the conclusion that there are realities out

there, we still seem to act as if there are realities out there; we still want

to get at what we take to be the nature of AIDS, the actual function of the

heart, and what is best for Johnny, despite our epistemological limitations

or nihilism. The truth of this conclusion is demonstrated by the way our

thought processes work concerning the problems we are trying to solve.

So far I have hinted at a descriptive account of how it is that scientifi c and

philosophic communities work like as-if realists. However, someone may

wonder why we should act like as-if realists. My response is utilitarian in

tone, and it is simply that acting in such a way has pragmatic benefi ts.

Strange and equivocal as it may sound, I am advocating that pragmatists

should be nonpragmatic, by showing that realism is of pragmatic value!

Thinkers like Trout (1998), Kitcher (1993), Boyd (1991), and Miller (1987)

already have shown the many benefi ts that result from holding to scientifi c

realism. My argument can be looked at as an addendum to what has been

known in philosophy of science circles as the argument from miracles, popularized

by Smart (1963) and Putnam (1975). The proponents of this argument

conclude that unless there were actually existing entities as part of

the furniture of the world, and the theories put forward by thinkers

approximated these entities, then the success of science certainly would

be a miracle. In other words, it would be miraculous if there were not a

real world out there to which our perceptions and ideas correspond given

the fecundity of our scientifi c, philosophic, and other research endeavors.

This realist attitude, and its attendant inference to the best explanation,

should fi lter into other philosophical and logical areas precisely because of

the evidentiary success of thinking in this fashion.

Stated simply: thinking like a realist works best for scientist, as well as

for mathematician, logician, and epistemologist alike. It is of no theoretical

or practical use to think solely like a Pyhrronian skeptic, or a nihilist, or a

Rortyan antirealist. Where would our thinking be if Aristotle, or Galileo, or Hawking had not challenged the intersubjective communities in which

they found themselves by thinking there must be something more that is

really “out there” to be grasped, understood, or assimilated?

It would seem, then, that we should not have mere “coherence of

beliefs” regarding Johnny’s benefi t, or “agreement” regarding the nature

of AIDS, or “consensus” regarding the function of the heart transitorily

understood by the intersubjective community. We should have coherence

of beliefs and we should know that what we are doing is actually best for

Johnny; we should have agreement regarding the nature of AIDS and

that agreement should be the result of our understanding of what AIDS

actually is; we should have consensus regarding the heart’s function and

that consensus should be based in the actual functioning of the heart. It

is good to have realists in the scientifi c or philosophic community reminding

these communities not to rest on the laurels of coherentist pragmatism;

the question will always remain as to whether coherence is enough.

To put the point another way, Dummett-style assertibility conditions are

fi ne to articulate, and we should seek to express them as accurately as

possible, but what we ultimately must confront are the truth conditions

surrounding propositions. Notice that we still do not fully know the nature

of AIDS, or the heart’s functions, or cancer, or consciousness, or concepts,

just as we may never know if what we have done for Johnny is in fact the

best thing for him. At the same time, we continue to seek the nature of

these things and ponder whether we could have made better choices for

Johnny as if there was something to be gained in the search—we would

be remiss to do otherwise.

When all is said and done, it may be useful for pragmatic communities

of thinkers to act as if there was truth “out there” so as to guide its inquiry

in the same way that, say, Kant asks the scientifi c community to act as if

reality was governed by the regulative ideas. Kitcher (1989) has made this

kind of claim, and Rescher (1997) has argued for a version of realism on

pragmatic grounds. Such a view, paradoxically enough, tries to wed a

foundationalist epistemological program having realist leanings with a

coherentist epistemological program having antirealist leanings. But, such

foundationalism and realism should not rattle the coherentist. As Audi

(1993, p. 13) maintains in The structure of justifi cation, after a lengthy discussion

of the possible integration of foundationalism and coherentism:

“Foundationalism, then, is not the rigid, incorrigibilist, atomistic view

some have thought it to be. It can be moderate, fallibilist, commonsensical,

and psychologically realistic. It can also provide a role for coherence

in understanding justifi cation and, in some contexts, in generating it.”