The "thought experiment" is among the most used and best loved tools in the philosophic shed.
Thought experiments have "heuristic value." That means they help to explain or test ideas, situations, problems. Max Weber's "ideal types" are thought experiments; Marx's description of the process of capital in _Capital_ is an ideal type / thought experiment.
But the thought experiment has a very broad and ancient usage. If I mention a few, it's not because I don't think people reading this already know about them. I'm just trying to make a point.
Of course Socrates' cave analogy in _The Republic_ is a kind of thought experiment. But in general, whenever Socrates takes a specific question that troubles common sense -- like, what is friendship or what is fealty, or justice, or some other 'value' -- he quite frequently employs a 'thought experiment' that is designed to 'raise' the discussion away from specifics and in the direction of more abstract considerations of principle.
Then, of course, there's the whole social contract tradition -- such a 'continent' in political theory! One can't navigate around that 'horn'! -- which is nothing but a reflection on the this-sidedness and worldliness of a particular thought experiment; that is, what if there were no laws, no norms, no rules; what would happen? Hows would humans interact? Do you want 'norms' to give you a 'yes' or a 'no' about what to do or not do? Get thee to a state of nature! Go and blush behind this veil of ignorance!
The tradition of thought experiments lives a false and shadowy existence in the netherworld of "big question" debates about morality. Let's say you're on a boat and there's five people, and there's only enough water for two of those people. If the water currently available is shared equally, all five will die over the next three days; whereas if the water is hoarded by two of the five, chances for survival tripple -- to nine days. What's the 'right' thing to do? That's a thought experiment. Note that it is no less an experiment for occurring in 'thought.'
Imagine the following: Someone is driving through Pennsylvania and all the lights are out. This person pulls into a gas station to buy some gas and some gum, but here, too, the kind of darkness that points to a power failure. The gas pumps don't work. Hoping to get some gum, the driver walks into the appropriately small mini-mart. It is dark but the door is open. The customer sees that all electricity has been cut. By chance, the guy running the cash register -- the only person working there this late at night -- has fallen dead of a heart attack. He died before he could close the cash register. Many hundreds of dollars do now spill out the cash register. The customer is reasonably convinced that no surveillance cameras are operating. In addition to the gum, it would be riskless to stuff one's pockets with many hundreds of dollars.
Two questions: First, what should the customer do? Second question: What do we predict the customer will do? It's a thought experiment!
Let us further imagine that the individuals going into the blacked-out convenience store in Pennsylvania are motivated by pure philosophic principles: one a Platonist, the other a Humean, another a Sadist, someone else a Hobbist, another a Rawlsian, and so on. What would different individuals motivated by competing philosophic approaches do? What would they think? How would they reason?
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