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Sweat
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Come and put me out.
1. The Mind-Body Problem and the History of Dualism
1.1 The Mind-Body Problem
The mind-body problem is the problem: what is the relationship between mind and body? Or alternatively: what is the relationship between mental properties and physical properties?
Humans have (or seem to have) both physical properties and mental properties. People have (or seem to have)the sort of properties attributed in the physical sciences. These physical properties include size, weight, shape, colour, motion through space and time, etc. But they also have (or seem to have) mental properties, which we do not attribute to typical physical objects These properties involve consciousness (including perceptual experience, emotional experience, and much else), intentionality (including beliefs, desires, and much else), and they are possessed by a subject or a self. Physical properties are public, in the sense that they are, in principle, equally observable by anyone. Some physical properties – like those of an electron – are not directly observable at all, but they are equally available to all, to the same degree, with scientific equipment and techniques. The same is not true of mental properties. I may be able to tell that you are in pain by your behaviour, but only you can feel it directly. Similarly, you just know how something looks to you, and I can only surmise. Conscious mental events are private to the subject, who has a privileged access to them of a kind no-one has to the physical. The mind-body problem concerns the relationship between these two sets of properties. The mind-body problem breaks down into a number of components. The ontological question: what are mental states and what are physical states? Is one class a subclass of the other, so that all mental states are physical, or vice versa? Or are mental states and physical states entirely distinct?
The causal question: do physical states influence mental states? Do mental states influence physical states? If so, how?
Different aspects of the mind-body problem arise for different aspects of the mental, such as consciousness, intentionality, the self. The problem of consciousness: what is consciousness? How is it related to the brain and the body? The problem of intentionality: what is intentionality? How is it related to the brain and the body? The problem of the self: what is the self? How is it related to the brain and the body? Other aspects of the mind-body problem arise for aspects of the physical. For example:
The problem of embodiment: what is it for the mind to be housed in a body? What is it for a body to belong to a particular subject?
The seemingly intractable nature of these problems have given rise to many different philosophical views.
Materialist views say that, despite appearances to the contrary, mental states are just physical states. Behaviourism, functionalism, mind-brain identity theory and the computational theory of mind are examples of how materialists attempt to explain how this can be so. The most common factor in such theories is the attempt to explicate the nature of mind and consciousness in terms of their ability to directly or indirectly modify behaviour, but there are versions of materialism that try to tie the mental to the physical without explicitly explaining the mental in terms of its behaviour-modifying role. The latter are often grouped together under the label ‘non-reductive physicalism’, though this label is itself rendered elusive because of the controversial nature of the term ‘reduction’.
Idealist views say that physical states are really mental. This is because the physical world is an empirical world and, as such, it is the intersubjective product of our collective experience.
Dualist views (the subject of this entry) say that the mental and the physical are both real and neither can be assimilated to the other. For the various forms that dualism can take and the associated problems, see below.
In sum, we can say that there is a mind-body problem because both consciousness and thought, broadly construed, seem very different from anything physical and there is no convincing consensus on how to build a satisfactorily unified picture of creatures possessed of both a mind and a body.
Other entries which concern aspects of the mind-body problem include (among many others): behaviorism, consciousness, eliminative materialism, epiphenomenalism, functionalism, identity theory, intentionality, mental causation, neutral monism, and physicalism.
1.2 History of dualism
In dualism, ‘mind’ is contrasted with ‘body’, but at different times, different aspects of the mind have been the centre of attention. In the classical and mediaeval periods, it was the intellect that was thought to be most obviously resistant to a materialistic account: from Descartes on, the main stumbling block to materialist monism was supposed to be ‘consciousness’, of which phenomenal consciousness or sensation came to be considered as the paradigm instance.
The classical emphasis originates in Plato’s Phaedo. Plato believed that the true substances are not physical bodies, which are ephemeral, but the eternal Forms of which bodies are imperfect copies. These Forms not only make the world possible, they also make it intelligible, because they perform the role of universals, or what Frege called ‘concepts’. It is their connection with intelligibility that is relevant to the philosophy of mind. Because Forms are the grounds of intelligibility, they are what the intellect must grasp in the process of understanding. In Phaedo Plato presents a variety of arguments for the immortality of the soul, but the one that is relevant for our purposes is that the intellect is immaterial because Forms are immaterial and intellect must have an affinity with the Forms it apprehends (78b4–84b8). This affinity is so strong that the soul strives to leave the body in which it is imprisoned and to dwell in the realm of Forms. It may take many reincarnations before this is achieved. Plato’s dualism is not, therefore, simply a doctrine in the philosophy of mind, but an integral part of his whole metaphysics.
One problem with Plato’s dualism was that, though he speaks of the soul as imprisoned in the body, there is no clear account of what binds a particular soul to a particular body. Their difference in nature makes the union a mystery.
Aristotle did not believe in Platonic Forms, existing independently of their instances. Aristotelian forms (the capital ‘F’ has disappeared with their standing as autonomous entities) are the natures and properties of things and exist embodied in those things. This enabled Aristotle to explain the union of body and soul by saying that the soul is the form of the body. This means that a particular person’s soul is no more than his nature as a human being. Because this seems to make the soul into a property of the body, it led many interpreters, both ancient and modern, to interpret his theory as materialistic. The interpretation of Aristotle’s philosophy of mind – and, indeed, of his whole doctrine of form – remains as live an issue today as it was immediately after his death (Robinson 1983 and 1991; Nussbaum 1984; Rorty and Nussbaum, eds, 1992). Nevertheless, the text makes it clear that Aristotle believed that the intellect, though part of the soul, differs from other faculties in not having a bodily organ. His argument for this constitutes a more tightly argued case than Plato’s for the immateriality of thought and, hence, for a kind of dualism. He argued that the intellect must be immaterial because if it were material it could not receive all forms. Just as the eye, because of its particular physical nature, is sensitive to light but not to sound, and the ear to sound and not to light, so, if the intellect were in a physical organ it could be sensitive only to a restricted range of physical things; but this is not the case, for we can think about any kind of material object (De Anima III,4; 429a10–b9). As it does not have a material organ, its activity must be essentially immaterial.
It is common for modern Aristotelians, who otherwise have a high view of Aristotle’s relevance to modern philosophy, to treat this argument as being of purely historical interest, and not essential to Aristotle’s system as a whole. They emphasize that he was not a ‘Cartesian’ dualist, because the intellect is an aspect of the soul and the soul is the form of the body, not a separate substance. Kenny (1989) argues that Aristotle’s theory of mind as form gives him an account similar to Ryle (1949), for it makes the soul equivalent to the dispositions possessed by a living body. This ‘anti-Cartesian’ approach to Aristotle arguably ignores the fact that, for Aristotle, the form is the substance.
These issues might seem to be of purely historical interest. But we shall see in below, in section 4.5, that this is not so.
The identification of form and substance is a feature of Aristotle’s system that Aquinas effectively exploits in this context, identifying soul, intellect and form, and treating them as a substance. (See, for example, Aquinas (1912), Part I, questions 75 and 76.) But though the form (and, hence, the intellect with which it is identical) are the substance of the human person, they are not the person itself. Aquinas says that when one addresses prayers to a saint – other than the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is believed to retain her body in heaven and is, therefore, always a complete person – one should say, not, for example, ‘Saint Peter pray for us’, but ‘soul of Saint Peter pray for us’. The soul, though an immaterial substance, is the person only when united with its body. Without the body, those aspects of its personal memory that depend on images (which are held to be corporeal) will be lost.(See Aquinas (1912), Part I, question 89.)
The more modern versions of dualism have their origin in Descartes’ Meditations, and in the debate that was consequent upon Descartes’ theory. Descartes was a substance dualist. He believed that there were two kinds of substance: matter, of which the essential property is that it is spatially extended; and mind, of which the essential property is that it thinks. Descartes’ conception of the relation between mind and body was quite different from that held in the Aristotelian tradition. For Aristotle, there is no exact science of matter. How matter behaves is essentially affected by the form that is in it. You cannot combine just any matter with any form – you cannot make a knife out of butter, nor a human being out of paper – so the nature of the matter is a necessary condition for the nature of the substance. But the nature of the substance does not follow from the nature of its matter alone: there is no ‘bottom up’ account of substances. Matter is a determinable made determinate by form. This was how Aristotle thought that he was able to explain the connection of soul to body: a particular soul exists as the organizing principle in a particular parcel of matter.
The belief in the relative indeterminacy of matter is one reason for Aristotle’s rejection of atomism. If matter is atomic, then it is already a collection of determinate objects in its own right, and it becomes natural to regard the properties of macroscopic substances as mere summations of the natures of the atoms.
Although, unlike most of his fashionable contemporaries and immediate successors, Descartes was not an atomist, he was, like the others, a mechanist about the properties of matter. Bodies are machines that work according to their own laws. Except where there are minds interfering with it, matter proceeds deterministically, in its own right. Where there are minds requiring to influence bodies, they must work by ‘pulling levers’ in a piece of machinery that already has its own laws of operation. This raises the question of where those ‘levers’ are in the body. Descartes opted for the pineal gland, mainly because it is not duplicated on both sides of the brain, so it is a candidate for having a unique, unifying function.
The main uncertainty that faced Descartes and his contemporaries, however, was not where interaction took place, but how two things so different as thought and extension could interact at all. This would be particularly mysterious if one had an impact view of causal interaction, as would anyone influenced by atomism, for whom the paradigm of causation is like two billiard balls cannoning off one another.
Various of Descartes’ disciples, such as Arnold Geulincx and Nicholas Malebranche, concluded that all mind-body interactions required the direct intervention of God. The appropriate states of mind and body were only the occasions for such intervention, not real causes. Now it would be convenient to think that occasionalists held that all causation was natural except for that between mind and body. In fact they generalized their conclusion and treated all causation as directly dependent on God. Why this was so, we cannot discuss here.
Descartes’ conception of a dualism of substances came under attack from the more radical empiricists, who found it difficult to attach sense to the concept of substance at all. Locke, as a moderate empiricist, accepted that there were both material and immaterial substances. Berkeley famously rejected material substance, because he rejected all existence outside the mind. In his early Notebooks, he toyed with the idea of rejecting immaterial substance, because we could have no idea of it, and reducing the self to a collection of the ‘ideas’ that constituted its contents. Finally, he decided that the self, conceived as something over and above the ideas of which it was aware, was essential for an adequate understanding of the human person. Although the self and its acts are not presented to consciousness as objects of awareness, we are obliquely aware of them simply by dint of being active subjects. Hume rejected such claims, and proclaimed the self to be nothing more than a concatenation of its ephemeral contents.
In fact, Hume criticised the whole conception of substance for lacking in empirical content: when you search for the owner of the properties that make up a substance, you find nothing but further properties. Consequently, the mind is, he claimed, nothing but a ‘bundle’ or ‘heap’ of impressions and ideas – that is, of particular mental states or events, without an owner. This position has been labelled bundle dualism, and it is a special case of a general bundle theory of substance, according to which objects in general are just organised collections of properties. The problem for the Humean is to explain what binds the elements in the bundle together. This is an issue for any kind of substance, but for material bodies the solution seems fairly straightforward: the unity of a physical bundle is constituted by some form of causal interaction between the elements in the bundle. For the mind, mere causal connection is not enough; some further relation of co-consciousness is required. We shall see in 5.2.1 that it is problematic whether one can treat such a relation as more primitive than the notion of belonging to a subject.
One should note the following about Hume’s theory. His bundle theory is a theory about the nature of the unity of the mind. As a theory about this unity, it is not necessarily dualist. Parfit (1970, 1984) and Shoemaker (1984, ch. 2), for example, accept it as physicalists. In general, physicalists will accept it unless they wish to ascribe the unity to the brain or the organism as a whole. Before the bundle theory can be dualist one must accept property dualism, for more about which, see the next section.
A crisis in the history of dualism came, however, with the growing popularity of mechanism in science in the nineteenth century. According to the mechanist, the world is, as it would now be expressed, ‘closed under physics’. This means that everything that happens follows from and is in accord with the laws of physics. There is, therefore, no scope for interference in the physical world by the mind in the way that interactionism seems to require. According to the mechanist, the conscious mind is an epiphenomenon (a notion given general currency by T. H. Huxley 1893): that is, it is a by-product of the physical system which has no influence back on it. In this way, the facts of consciousness are acknowledged but the integrity of physical science is preserved. However, many philosophers found it implausible to claim such things as the following; the pain that I have when you hit me, the visual sensations I have when I see the ferocious lion bearing down on me or the conscious sense of understanding I have when I hear your argument – all have nothing directly to do with the way I respond. It is very largely due to the need to avoid this counterintuitiveness that we owe the concern of twentieth century philosophy to devise a plausible form of materialist monism. But, although dualism has been out of fashion in psychology since the advent of behaviourism (Watson 1913) and in philosophy since Ryle (1949), the argument is by no means over. Some distinguished neurologists, such as Sherrington (1940) and Eccles (Popper and Eccles 1977) have continued to defend dualism as the only theory that can preserve the data of consciousness. Amongst mainstream philosophers, discontent with physicalism led to a modest revival of property dualism in the last decade of the twentieth century. At least some of the reasons for this should become clear below.
2. Varieties of Dualism: Ontology
There are various ways of dividing up kinds of dualism. One natural way is in terms of what sorts of things one chooses to be dualistic about. The most common categories lighted upon for these purposes are substance and property, giving one substance dualism and property dualism. There is, however, an important third category, namely predicate dualism. As this last is the weakest theory, in the sense that it claims least, I shall begin by characterizing it.
2.1 Predicate dualism
Predicate dualism is the theory that psychological or mentalistic predicates are (a) essential for a full description of the world and (b) are not reducible to physicalistic predicates. For a mental predicate to be reducible, there would be bridging laws connecting types of psychological states to types of physical ones in such a way that the use of the mental predicate carried no information that could not be expressed without it. An example of what we believe to be a true type reduction outside psychology is the case of water, where water is always H2O: something is water if and only if it is H2O. If one were to replace the word ‘water’ by ‘H2O’, it is plausible to say that one could convey all the same information. But the terms in many of the special sciences (that is, any science except physics itself) are not reducible in this way. Not every hurricane or every infectious disease, let alone every devaluation of the currency or every coup d’etat has the same constitutive structure. These states are defined more by what they do than by their composition or structure. Their names are classified as functional terms rather than natural kind terms. It goes with this that such kinds of state are multiply realizable; that is, they may be constituted by different kinds of physical structures under different circumstances. Because of this, unlike in the case of water and H2O, one could not replace these terms by some more basic physical description and still convey the same information. There is no particular description, using the language of physics or chemistry, that would do the work of the word ‘hurricane’, in the way that ‘H2O’ would do the work of ‘water’. It is widely agreed that many, if not all, psychological states are similarly irreducible, and so psychological predicates are not reducible to physical descriptions and one has predicate dualism. (The classic source for irreducibility in the special sciences in general is Fodor (1974), and for irreducibility in the philosophy of mind, Davidson (1971).)
2.2 Property Dualism
Whereas predicate dualism says that there are two essentially different kinds of predicates in our language, property dualism says that there are two essentially different kinds of property out in the world. Property dualism can be seen as a step stronger than predicate dualism. Although the predicate ‘hurricane’ is not equivalent to any single description using the language of physics, we believe that each individual hurricane is nothing but a collection of physical atoms behaving in a certain way: one need have no more than the physical atoms, with their normal physical properties, following normal physical laws, for there to be a hurricane. One might say that we need more than the language of physics to describe and explain the weather, but we do not need more than its ontology. There is token identity between each individual hurricane and a mass of atoms, even if there is no type identity between hurricanes as kinds and some particular structure of atoms as a kind. Genuine property dualism occurs when, even at the individual level, the ontology of physics is not sufficient to constitute what is there. The irreducible language is not just another way of describing what there is, it requires that there be something more there than was allowed for in the initial ontology. Until the early part of the twentieth century, it was common to think that biological phenomena (‘life’) required property dualism (an irreducible ‘vital force’), but nowadays the special physical sciences other than psychology are generally thought to involve only predicate dualism. In the case of mind, property dualism is defended by those who argue that the qualitative nature of consciousness is not merely another way of categorizing states of the brain or of behaviour, but a genuinely emergent phenomenon.
2.3 Substance Dualism
There are two important concepts deployed in this notion. One is that of substance, the other is the dualism of these substances. A substance is characterized by its properties, but, according to those who believe in substances, it is more than the collection of the properties it possesses, it is the thing which possesses them. So the mind is not just a collection of thoughts, but is that which thinks, an immaterial substance over and above its immaterial states. Properties are the properties of objects. If one is a property dualist, one may wonder what kinds of objects possess the irreducible or immaterial properties in which one believes. One can use a neutral expression and attribute them to persons, but, until one has an account of person, this is not explanatory. One might attribute them to human beings qua animals, or to the brains of these animals. Then one will be holding that these immaterial properties are possessed by what is otherwise a purely material thing. But one may also think that not only mental states are immaterial, but that the subject that possesses them must also be immaterial. Then one will be a dualist about that to which mental states and properties belong as well about the properties themselves. Now one might try to think of these subjects as just bundles of the immaterial states. This is Hume’s view. But if one thinks that the owner of these states is something quite over and above the states themselves, and is immaterial, as they are, one will be a substance dualist.
Substance dualism is also often dubbed ‘Cartesian dualism’, but some substance dualists are keen to distinguish their theories from Descartes’s. E. J. Lowe, for example, is a substance dualist, in the following sense. He holds that a normal human being involves two substances, one a body and the other a person. The latter is not, however, a purely mental substance that can be defined in terms of thought or consciousness alone, as Descartes claimed. But persons and their bodies have different identity conditions and are both substances, so there are two substances essentially involved in a human being, hence this is a form of substance dualism. Lowe (2006) claims that his theory is close to P. F. Strawson’s (1959), whilst admitting that Strawson would not have called it substance dualism.
3. Varieties of Dualism: Interaction
If mind and body are different realms, in the way required by either property or substance dualism, then there arises the question of how they are related. Common sense tells us that they interact: thoughts and feelings are at least sometimes caused by bodily events and at least sometimes themselves give rise to bodily responses. I shall now consider briefly the problems for interactionism, and its main rivals, epiphenomenalism and parallelism.
3.1 Interactionism
Interactionism is the view that mind and body – or mental events and physical events – causally influence each other. That this is so is one of our common-sense beliefs, because it appears to be a feature of everyday experience. The physical world influences my experience through my senses, and I often react behaviourally to those experiences. My thinking, too, influences my speech and my actions. There is, therefore, a massive natural prejudice in favour of interactionism. It has been claimed, however, that it faces serious problems (some of which were anticipated in section 1).
The simplest objection to interaction is that, in so far as mental properties, states or substances are of radically different kinds from each other, they lack that communality necessary for interaction. It is generally agreed that, in its most naive form, this objection to interactionism rests on a ‘billiard ball’ picture of causation: if all causation is by impact, how can the material and the immaterial impact upon each other? But if causation is either by a more ethereal force or energy or only a matter of constant conjunction, there would appear to be no problem in principle with the idea of interaction of mind and body.
Even if there is no objection in principle, there appears to be a conflict between interactionism and some basic principles of physical science. For example, if causal power was flowing in and out of the physical system, energy would not be conserved, and the conservation of energy is a fundamental scientific law. Various responses have been made to this. One suggestion is that it might be possible for mind to influence the distribution of energy, without altering its quantity. (See Averill and Keating 1981). Another response is to challenge the relevance of the conservation principle in this context. The conservation principle states that ‘in a causally isolated system the total amount of energy will remain constant’. Whereas ‘[t]he interactionist denies…that the human body is an isolated system’, so the principle is irrelevant (Larmer (1986), 282: this article presents a good brief survey of the options). This approach has been termed conditionality, namely the view that conservation is conditional on the physical system being closed, that is, that nothing non-physical is interacting or interfering with it, and, of course, the interactionist claims that this condition is, trivially, not met. That conditionality is the best line for the dualist to take, and that other approaches do not work, is defended in Pitts (2019) and Cucu and Pitts (2019). This, they claim, makes the plausibility of interactionism an empirical matter which only close investigation on the fine operation of the brain could hope to settle. Cucu, in a separate article (2018), claims to find critical neuronal events which do not have sufficient physical explanation.This claim clearly needs further investigation.
Robins Collins (2011) has claimed that the appeal to conservation by opponents of interactionism is something of a red herring because conservation principles are not ubiquitous in physics. He argues that energy is not conserved in general relativity, in quantum theory, or in the universe taken as a whole. Why then, should we insist on it in mind-brain interaction?
Most discussion of interactionism takes place in the context of the assumption that it is incompatible with the world’s being ‘closed under physics’. This is a very natural assumption, but it is not justified if causal overdetermination of behaviour is possible. There could then be a complete physical cause of behaviour, and a mental one. The strongest intuitive objection against overdetermination is clearly stated by Mills (1996: 112), who is himself a defender of overdetermination.
For X to be a cause of Y, X must contribute something to Y. The only way a purely mental event could contribute to a purely physical one would be to contribute some feature not already determined by a purely physical event. But if physical closure is true, there is no feature of the purely physical effect that is not contributed by the purely physical cause. Hence interactionism violates physical closure after all.
Mills says that this argument is invalid, because a physical event can have features not explained by the event which is its sufficient cause. For example, “the rock’s hitting the window is causally sufficient for the window’s breaking, and the window’s breaking has the feature of being the third window-breaking in the house this year; but the facts about prior window-breakings, rather than the rock’s hitting the window, are what cause this window-breaking to have this feature.”
The opponent of overdetermination could perhaps reply that his principle applies, not to every feature of events, but to a subgroup – say, intrinsic features, not merely relational or comparative ones. It is this kind of feature that the mental event would have to cause, but physical closure leaves no room for this. These matters are still controversial.
The problem with closure of physics may be radically altered if physical laws are indeterministic, as quantum theory seems to assert. If physical laws are deterministic, then any interference from outside would lead to a breach of those laws. But if they are indeterministic, might not interference produce a result that has a probability greater than zero, and so be consistent with the laws? This way, one might have interaction yet preserve a kind of nomological closure, in the sense that no laws are infringed. Because it involves assessing the significance and consequences of quantum theory, this is a difficult matter for the non-physicist to assess. Some argue that indeterminacy manifests itself only on the subatomic level, being cancelled out by the time one reaches even very tiny macroscopic objects: and human behaviour is a macroscopic phenomenon. Others argue that the structure of the brain is so finely tuned that minute variations could have macroscopic effects, rather in the way that, according to ‘chaos theory’, the flapping of a butterfly’s wings in China might affect the weather in New York. (For discussion of this, see Eccles (1980), (1987), and Popper and Eccles (1977).) Still others argue that quantum indeterminacy manifests itself directly at a high level, when acts of observation collapse the wave function, suggesting that the mind may play a direct role in affecting the state of the world (Hodgson 1988; Stapp 1993).
3.2 Epiphenomenalism
If the reality of property dualism is not to be denied, but the problem of how the immaterial is to affect the material is to be avoided, then epiphenomenalism may seem to be the answer. According to this theory, mental events are caused by physical events, but have no causal influence on the physical. I have introduced this theory as if its point were to avoid the problem of how two different categories of thing might interact. In fact, it is, at best, an incomplete solution to this problem. If it is mysterious how the non-physical can have it in its nature to influence the physical, it ought to be equally mysterious how the physical can have it in its nature to produce something non-physical. But that this latter is what occurs is an essential claim of epiphenomenalism. (For development of this point, see Green (2003), 149–51). In fact, epiphenomenalism is more effective as a way of saving the autonomy of the physical (the world as ‘closed under physics’) than as a contribution to avoiding the need for the physical and non-physical to have causal commerce.
There are at least three serious problems for epiphenomenalism. First, as I indicated in section 1, it is profoundly counterintuitive. What could be more apparent than that it is the pain that I feel that makes me cry, or the visual experience of the boulder rolling towards me that makes me run away? At least one can say that epiphenomenalism is a fall-back position: it tends to be adopted because other options are held to be unacceptable.
The second problem is that, if mental states do nothing, there is no reason why they should have evolved. This objection ties in with the first: the intuition there was that conscious states clearly modify our behaviour in certain ways, such as avoiding danger, and it is plain that they are very useful from an evolutionary perspective.
Frank Jackson (1982) replies to this objection by saying that it is the brain state associated with pain that evolves for this reason: the sensation is a by-product. Evolution is full of useless or even harmful by-products. For example, polar bears have evolved thick coats to keep them warm, even though this has the damaging side effect that they are heavy to carry. Jackson’s point is true in general, but does not seem to apply very happily to the case of mind. The heaviness of the polar bear’s coat follows directly from those properties and laws which make it warm: one could not, in any simple way, have one without the other. But with mental states, dualistically conceived, the situation is quite the opposite. The laws of physical nature which, the mechanist says, make brain states cause behaviour, in no way explain why brain states should give rise to conscious ones. The laws linking mind and brain are what Feigl (1958) calls nomological danglers, that is, brute facts added onto the body of integrated physical law. Why there should have been by-products of that kind seems to have no evolutionary explanation.
The third problem concerns the rationality of belief in epiphenomenalism, via its effect on the problem of other minds. It is natural to say that I know that I have mental states because I experience them directly. But how can I justify my belief that others have them? The simple version of the ‘argument from analogy’ says that I can extrapolate from my own case. I know that certain of my mental states are correlated with certain pieces of behaviour, and so I infer that similar behaviour in others is also accompanied by similar mental states. Many hold that this is a weak argument because it is induction from one instance, namely, my own. The argument is stronger if it is not a simple induction but an ‘argument to the best explanation’. I seem to know from my own case that mental events can be the explanation of behaviour, and I know of no other candidate explanation for typical human behaviour, so I postulate the same explanation for the behaviour of others. But if epiphenomenalism is true, my mental states do not explain my behaviour and there is a physical explanation for the behaviour of others. It is explanatorily redundant to postulate such states for others. I know, by introspection, that I have them, but is it not just as likely that I alone am subject to this quirk of nature, rather than that everyone is?
For more detailed treatment and further reading on this topic, see the entry epiphenomenalism.
3.3 Parallelism
The epiphenomenalist wishes to preserve the integrity of physical science and the physical world, and appends those mental features that he cannot reduce. The parallelist preserves both realms intact, but denies all causal interaction between them. They run in harmony with each other, but not because their mutual influence keeps each other in line. That they should behave as if they were interacting would seem to be a bizarre coincidence. This is why parallelism has tended to be adopted only by those – like Leibniz – who believe in a pre-established harmony, set in place by God. The progression of thought can be seen as follows. Descartes believes in a more or less natural form of interaction between immaterial mind and material body. Malebranche thought that this was impossible naturally, and so required God to intervene specifically on each occasion on which interaction was required. Leibniz decided that God might as well set things up so that they always behaved as if they were interacting, without particular intervention being required. Outside such a theistic framework, the theory is incredible. Even within such a framework, one might well sympathise with Berkeley’s instinct that once genuine interaction is ruled out one is best advised to allow that God creates the physical world directly, within the mental realm itself, as a construct out of experience.
4. Arguments for Dualism
4.1 The Knowledge Argument Against Physicalism
One category of arguments for dualism is constituted by the standard objections against physicalism. Prime examples are those based on the existence of qualia, the most important of which is the so-called ‘knowledge argument’. Because this argument has its own entry (see the entry qualia: the knowledge argument), I shall deal relatively briefly with it here. One should bear in mind, however, that all arguments against physicalism are also arguments for the irreducible and hence immaterial nature of the mind and, given the existence of the material world, are thus arguments for dualism.
The knowledge argument asks us to imagine a future scientist who has lacked a certain sensory modality from birth, but who has acquired a perfect scientific understanding of how this modality operates in others. This scientist – call him Harpo – may have been born stone deaf, but become the world’s greatest expert on the machinery of hearing: he knows everything that there is to know within the range of the physical and behavioural sciences about hearing. Suppose that Harpo, thanks to developments in neurosurgery, has an operation which finally enables him to hear. It is suggested that he will then learn something he did not know before, which can be expressed as what it is like to hear, or the qualitative or phenomenal nature of sound. These qualitative features of experience are generally referred to as qualia. If Harpo learns something new, he did not know everything before. He knew all the physical facts before. So what he learns on coming to hear – the facts about the nature of experience or the nature of qualia – are non-physical. This establishes at least a state or property dualism. (See Jackson 1982; Robinson 1982.)
There are at least two lines of response to this popular but controversial argument. First is the ‘ability’ response. According to this, Harpo does not acquire any new factual knowledge, only ‘knowledge how’, in the form of the ability to respond directly to sounds, which he could not do before. This essentially behaviouristic account is exactly what the intuition behind the argument is meant to overthrow. Putting ourselves in Harpo’s position, it is meant to be obvious that what he acquires is knowledge of what something is like, not just how to do something. Such appeals to intuition are always, of course, open to denial by those who claim not to share the intuition. Some ability theorists seem to blur the distinction between knowing what something is like and knowing how to do something, by saying that the ability Harpo acquires is to imagine or remember the nature of sound. In this case, what he acquires the ability to do involves the representation to himself of what the thing is like. But this conception of representing to oneself, especially in the form of imagination, seems sufficiently close to producing in oneself something very like a sensory experience that it only defers the problem: until one has a physicalist gloss on what constitutes such representations as those involved in conscious memory and imagination, no progress has been made.
The other line of response is to argue that, although Harpo’s new knowledge is factual, it is not knowledge of a new fact. Rather, it is new way of grasping something that he already knew. He does not realise this, because the concepts employed to capture experience (such as ‘looks red’ or ‘sounds C-sharp’) are similar to demonstratives, and demonstrative concepts lack the kind of descriptive content that allow one to infer what they express from other pieces of information that one may already possess. A total scientific knowledge of the world would not enable you to say which time was ‘now’ or which place was ‘here’. Demonstrative concepts pick something out without saying anything extra about it. Similarly, the scientific knowledge that Harpo originally possessed did not enable him to anticipate what it would be like to re-express some parts of that knowledge using the demonstrative concepts that only experience can give one. The knowledge, therefore, appears to be genuinely new, whereas only the mode of conceiving it is novel.
Proponents of the epistemic argument respond that it is problematic to maintain both that the qualitative nature of experience can be genuinely novel, and that the quality itself be the same as some property already grasped scientifically: does not the experience’s phenomenal nature, which the demonstrative concepts capture, constitute a property in its own right? Another way to put this is to say that phenomenal concepts are not pure demonstratives, like ‘here’ and ‘now’, or ‘this’ and ‘that’, because they do capture a genuine qualitative content. Furthermore, experiencing does not seem to consist simply in exercising a particular kind of concept, demonstrative or not. When Harpo has his new form of experience, he does not simply exercise a new concept; he also grasps something new – the phenomenal quality – with that concept. How decisive these considerations are, remains controversial.
4.2 The Argument from Predicate Dualism to Property Dualism
I said above that predicate dualism might seem to have no ontological consequences, because it is concerned only with the different way things can be described within the contexts of the different sciences, not with any real difference in the things themselves. This, however, can be disputed.
The argument from predicate to property dualism moves in two steps, both controversial. The first claims that the irreducible special sciences, which are the sources of irreducible predicates, are not wholly objective in the way that physics is, but depend for their subject matter upon interest-relative perspectives on the world. This means that they, and the predicates special to them, depend on the existence of minds and mental states, for only minds have interest-relative perspectives. The second claim is that psychology – the science of the mental – is itself an irreducible special science, and so it, too, presupposes the existence of the mental. Mental predicates therefore presuppose the mentality that creates them: mentality cannot consist simply in the applicability of the predicates themselves.
First, let us consider the claim that the special sciences are not fully objective, but are interest-relative.
No-one would deny, of course, that the very same subject matter or ‘hunk of reality’ can be described in irreducibly different ways and it still be just that subject matter or piece of reality. A mass of matter could be characterized as a hurricane, or as a collection of chemical elements, or as mass of sub-atomic particles, and there be only the one mass of matter. But such different explanatory frameworks seem to presuppose different perspectives on that subject matter.
This is where basic physics, and perhaps those sciences reducible to basic physics, differ from irreducible special sciences. On a realist construal, the completed physics cuts physical reality up at its ultimate joints: any special science which is nomically strictly reducible to physics also, in virtue of this reduction, it could be argued, cuts reality at its joints, but not at its minutest ones. If scientific realism is true, a completed physics will tell one how the world is, independently of any special interest or concern: it is just how the world is. It would seem that, by contrast, a science which is not nomically reducible to physics does not take its legitimation from the underlying reality in this direct way. Rather, such a science is formed from the collaboration between, on the one hand, objective similarities in the world and, on the other, perspectives and interests of those who devise the science. The concept of hurricane is brought to bear from the perspective of creatures concerned about the weather. Creatures totally indifferent to the weather would have no reason to take the real patterns of phenomena that hurricanes share as constituting a single kind of thing. With the irreducible special sciences, there is an issue of salience , which involves a subjective component: a selection of phenomena with a certain teleology in mind is required before their structures or patterns are reified. The entities of metereology or biology are, in this respect, rather like Gestalt phenomena.
Even accepting this, why might it be thought that the perspectivality of the special sciences leads to a genuine property dualism in the philosophy of mind? It might seem to do so for the following reason. Having a perspective on the world, perceptual or intellectual, is a psychological state. So the irreducible special sciences presuppose the existence of mind. If one is to avoid an ontological dualism, the mind that has this perspective must be part of the physical reality on which it has its perspective. But psychology, it seems to be almost universally agreed, is one of those special sciences that is not reducible to physics, so if its subject matter is to be physical, it itself presupposes a perspective and, hence, the existence of a mind to see matter as psychological. If this mind is physical and irreducible, it presupposes mind to see it as such. We seem to be in a vicious circle or regress.
We can now understand the motivation for full-blown reduction. A true basic physics represents the world as it is in itself, and if the special sciences were reducible, then the existence of their ontologies would make sense as expressions of the physical, not just as ways of seeing or interpreting it. They could be understood ‘from the bottom up’, not from top down. The irreducibility of the special sciences creates no problem for the dualist, who sees the explanatory endeavor of the physical sciences as something carried on from a perspective conceptually outside of the physical world. Nor need this worry a physicalist, if he can reduce psychology, for then he could understand ‘from the bottom up’ the acts (with their internal, intentional contents) which created the irreducible ontologies of the other sciences. But psychology is one of the least likely of sciences to be reduced. If psychology cannot be reduced, this line of reasoning leads to real emergence for mental acts and hence to a real dualism for the properties those acts instantiate (Robinson 2003).
4.3 The Modal Argument
There is an argument, which has roots in Descartes (Meditation VI), which is a modal argument for dualism. One might put it as follows:
It is imaginable that one’s mind might exist without one’s body.
therefore
It is conceivable that one’s mind might exist without one’s body.
therefore
It is possible one’s mind might exist without one’s body.
therefore
One’s mind is a different entity from one’s body.
The rationale of the argument is a move from imaginability to real possibility. I include (2) because the notion of conceivability has one foot in the psychological camp, like imaginability, and one in the camp of pure logical possibility and therefore helps in the transition from one to the other.
This argument should be distinguished from a similar ‘conceivability’ argument, often known as the ‘zombie hypothesis’, which claims the imaginability and possibility of my body (or, in some forms, a body physically just like it) existing without there being any conscious states associated with it. (See, for example, Chalmers (1996), 94–9.) This latter argument, if sound, would show that conscious states were something over and above physical states. It is a different argument because the hypothesis that the unaltered body could exist without the mind is not the same as the suggestion that the mind might continue to exist without the body, nor are they trivially equivalent. The zombie argument establishes only property dualism and a property dualist might think disembodied existence inconceivable – for example, if he thought the identity of a mind through time depended on its relation to a body (e.g., Penelhum 1970).
Before Kripke (1972/80), the first challenge to such an argument would have concerned the move from (3) to (4). When philosophers generally believed in contingent identity, that move seemed to them invalid. But nowadays that inference is generally accepted and the issue concerns the relation between imaginability and possibility. No-one would nowadays identify the two (except, perhaps, for certain quasi-realists and anti-realists), but the view that imaginability is a solid test for possibility has been strongly defended. W. D. Hart ((1994), 266), for example, argues that no clear example has been produced such that “one can imagine that p (and tell less imaginative folk a story that enables them to imagine that p) plus a good argument that it is impossible that p. No such counterexamples have been forthcoming…” This claim is at least contentious. There seem to be good arguments that time-travel is incoherent, but every episode of Star-Trek or Doctor Who shows how one can imagine what it might be like were it possible.
It is worth relating the appeal to possibility in this argument to that involved in the more modest, anti-physicalist, zombie argument. The possibility of this hypothesis is also challenged, but all that is necessary for a zombie to be possible is that all and only the things that the physical sciences say about the body be true of such a creature. As the concepts involved in such sciences – e.g., neuron, cell, muscle – seem to make no reference, explicit or implicit, to their association with consciousness, and are defined in purely physical terms in the relevant science texts, there is a very powerful prima facie case for thinking that something could meet the condition of being just like them and lack any connection with consciousness. There is no parallel clear, uncontroversial and regimented account of mental concepts as a whole that fails to invoke, explicitly or implicitly, physical (e.g., behavioural) states.
For an analytical behaviourist the appeal to imaginability made in the argument fails, not because imagination is not a reliable guide to possibility, but because we cannot imagine such a thing, as it is a priori impossible. The impossibility of disembodiment is rather like that of time travel, because it is demonstrable a priori, though only by arguments that are controversial. The argument can only get under way for those philosophers who accept that the issue cannot be settled a priori, so the possibility of the disembodiment that we can imagine is still prima facie open.
A major rationale of those who think that imagination is not a safe indication of possibility, even when such possibility is not eliminable a priori, is that we can imagine that a posteriori necessities might be false – for example, that Hesperus might not be identical to Phosphorus. But if Kripke is correct, that is not a real possibility. Another way of putting this point is that there are many epistemic possibilities which are imaginable because they are epistemic possibilities, but which are not real possibilities. Richard Swinburne (1997, New Appendix C), whilst accepting this argument in general, has interesting reasons for thinking that it cannot apply in the mind-body case. He argues that in cases that involve a posteriori necessities, such as those identities that need discovering, it is because we identify those entities only by their ‘stereotypes’ (that is, by their superficial features observable by the layman) that we can be wrong about their essences. In the case of our experience of ourselves this is not true.
Now it is true that the essence of Hesperus cannot be discovered by a mere thought experiment. That is because what makes Hesperus Hesperus is not the stereotype, but what underlies it. But it does not follow that no one can ever have access to the essence of a substance, but must always rely for identification on a fallible stereotype. One might think that for the person him or herself, while what makes that person that person underlies what is observable to others, it does not underlie what is experienceable by that person, but is given directly in their own self-awareness.
This is a very appealing Cartesian intuition: my identity as the thinking thing that I am is revealed to me in consciousness, it is not something beyond the veil of consciousness. Now it could be replied to this that though I do access myself as a conscious subject, so classifying myself is rather like considering myself qua cyclist. Just as I might never have been a cyclist, I might never have been conscious, if things had gone wrong in my very early life. I am the organism, the animal, which might not have developed to the point of consciousness, and that essence as animal is not revealed to me just by introspection.
But there are vital differences between these cases. A cyclist is explicitly presented as a human being (or creature of some other animal species) cycling: there is no temptation to think of a cyclist as a basic kind of thing in its own right. Consciousness is not presented as a property of something, but as the subject itself. Swinburne’s claim that when we refer to ourselves we are referring to something we think we are directly aware of and not to ‘something we know not what’ that underlies our experience seemingly ‘of ourselves’ has powerful intuitive appeal and could only be overthrown by very forceful arguments. Yet, even if we are not referring primarily to a substrate, but to what is revealed in consciousness, could it not still be the case that there is a necessity stronger than causal connecting this consciousness to something physical? To consider this further we must investigate what the limits are of the possible analogy between cases of the water-H2O kind, and the mind-body relation.
We start from the analogy between the water stereotype – how water presents itself – and how consciousness is given first-personally to the subject. It is plausible to claim that something like water could exist without being H2O, but hardly that it could exist without some underlying nature. There is, however, no reason to deny that this underlying nature could be homogenous with its manifest nature: that is, it would seem to be possible that there is a world in which the water-like stuff is an element, as the ancients thought, and is water-like all the way down. The claim of the proponents of the dualist argument is that this latter kind of situation can be known to be true a priori in the case of the mind: that is, one can tell by introspection that it is not more-than-causally dependent on something of a radically different nature, such as a brain or body. What grounds might one have for thinking that one could tell that a priori?
The only general argument that seem to be available for this would be the principle that, for any two levels of discourse, A and B, they are more-than-causally connected only if one entails the other a priori. And the argument for accepting this principle would be that the relatively uncontroversial cases of a posteriori necessary connections are in fact cases in which one can argue a priori from facts about the microstructure to the manifest facts. In the case of water, for example, it would be claimed that it follows a priori that if there were something with the properties attributed to H2O by chemistry on a micro level, then that thing would possess waterish properties on a macro level. What is established a posteriori is that it is in fact H2O that underlies and explains the waterish properties round here, not something else: the sufficiency of the base – were it to obtain – to explain the phenomena, can be deduced a priori from the supposed nature of the base. This is, in effect, the argument that Chalmers uses to defend the zombie hypothesis. The suggestion is that the whole category of a posteriori more-than-causally necessary connections (often identified as a separate category of metaphysical necessity) comes to no more than this. If we accept that this is the correct account of a posteriori necessities, and also deny the analytically reductionist theories that would be necessary for a priori connections between mind and body, as conceived, for example, by the behaviourist or the functionalist, does it follow that we can tell a priori that consciousness is not more-than-causally dependent on the body?
It is helpful in considering this question to employ a distinction like Berkeley’s between ideas and notions. Ideas are the objects of our mental acts, and they capture transparently – ‘by way of image or likeness’ (Principles, sect. 27) – that of which they are the ideas. The self and its faculties are not the objects of our mental acts, but are captured only obliquely in the performance of its acts, and of these Berkeley says we have notions, meaning by this that what we capture of the nature of the dynamic agent does not seem to have the same transparency as what we capture as the normal objects of the agent’s mental acts. It is not necessary to become involved in Berkeley’s metaphysics in general to feel the force of the claim that the contents and internal objects of our mental acts are grasped with a lucidity that exceeds that of our grasp of the agent and the acts per se. Because of this, notions of the self perhaps have a ‘thickness’ and are permanently contestable: there seems always to be room for more dispute as to what is involved in that concept. (Though we shall see later, in 5.2.2, that there is a ‘non-thick’ way of taking the Berkeleyan concept of a notion.)
Because ‘thickness’ always leaves room for dispute, this is one of those cases in philosophy in which one is at the mercy of the arguments philosophers happen to think up. The conceivability argument creates a prima facie case for thinking that mind has no more than causal ontological dependence on the body. Let us assume that one rejects analytical (behaviourist or functionalist) accounts of mental predicates. Then the above arguments show that any necessary dependence of mind on body does not follow the model that applies in other scientific cases. This does not show that there may not be other reasons for believing in such dependence, for so many of the concepts in the area are still contested. For example, it might be argued that identity through time requires the kind of spatial existence that only body can give: or that the causal continuity required by a stream of consciousness cannot be a property of mere phenomena. All these might be put forward as ways of filling out those aspects of our understanding of the self that are only obliquely, not transparently, presented in self-awareness. The dualist must respond to any claim as it arises: the conceivability argument does not pre-empt them.......
5.2 The Unity of the Mind
Whether one believes that the mind is a substance or just a bundle of properties, the same challenge arises, which is to explain the nature of the unity of the immaterial mind. For the Cartesian, that means explaining how he understands the notion of immaterial substance. For the Humean, the issue is to explain the nature of the relationship between the different elements in the bundle that binds them into one thing. Neither tradition has been notably successful in this latter task: indeed, Hume, in the appendix to the Treatise, declared himself wholly mystified by the problem, rejecting his own initial solution (though quite why is not clear from the text).
Problems:
The ships had lot´s of problems during their long operational careers (probably because they were built in a time that the Soviet Industry was still adapting from the war years).
They were extremely top heavy and the overall structure was poorly built which means that they had to be reinforced eventually.
However for the time they were still regarded as powerful and effective combat ships, most of them operating as the flagship of their main fleets.
For more info about the history of this ship click on the photos below.
Eínon
This is a concept I dreamed up about people that solve problems all day, people issues, technical issues. Spending your whole day solving problems! This is how I feel most days! hence the epitome of puzzles.. behold the Rubix breakfast! Solving problems from the moment you wake!
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
F-84 Thunderjet
RoleFighter-bomber
ManufacturerRepublic Aviation
First flight28 February 1946
IntroductionNovember 1947
Retired1964 (USAF)
1974 (Yugoslavia)
Primary userUnited States Air Force
Number built7,524
Unit cost
US$237,247 (F-84G)[1]
US$769,330 (F-84F)
VariantsRepublic F-84F Thunderstreak
Republic XF-84H Thunderscreech
Republic XF-91 Thunderceptor
The Republic F-84 Thunderjet was an American turbojet fighter-bomber aircraft. Originating as a 1944 United States Army Air Forces (USAAF) proposal for a "day fighter", the F-84 first flew in 1946. Although it entered service in 1947, the Thunderjet was plagued by so many structural and engine problems that a 1948 U.S. Air Force review declared it unable to execute any aspect of its intended mission and considered canceling the program. The aircraft was not considered fully operational until the 1949 F-84D model and the design matured only with the definitive F-84G introduced in 1951. In 1954, the straight-wing Thunderjet was joined by the swept-wing F-84F Thunderstreak fighter and RF-84F Thunderflash photo reconnaissance aircraft.
The Thunderjet became the USAF's primary strike aircraft during the Korean War, flying 86,408 sorties and destroying 60% of all ground targets in the war as well as eight Soviet-built MiG fighters. Over half of the 7,524 F-84s produced served with NATO nations, and it was the first aircraft to fly with the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds demonstration team. The USAF Strategic Air Command had F-84 Thunderjets in service from 1948 through 1957.
The F-84 was the first production fighter aircraft to utilize inflight refueling and the first fighter capable of carrying a nuclear weapon, the Mark 7 nuclear bomb. Modified F-84s were used in several unusual projects, including the FICON and Tom-Tom dockings to the B-29 Superfortress and B-36 bomber motherships, and the experimental XF-84H Thunderscreech turboprop.
The F-84 nomenclature can be somewhat confusing. The straight-wing F-84A to F-84E and F-84G models were called the Thunderjet. The F-84F Thunderstreak and RF-84F Thunderflash were different airplanes with swept wings. The XF-84H Thunderscreech (not its official name) was an experimental turboprop version of the F-84F. The F-84F swept wing version was intended to be a small variation of the normal Thunderjet with only a few different parts, so it kept the basic F-84 number. Production delays on the F-84F resulted in another order of the straight-wing version; this was the F-84G.
Design and development
An F-84G at Chaumont-Semoutiers Air Base, France, in 1953
In 1944, Republic Aviation's chief designer, Alexander Kartveli, began working on a turbojet-powered replacement for the P-47 Thunderbolt piston-engined fighter. The initial attempts to redesign the P-47 to accommodate a jet engine proved futile due to the large cross-section of the early centrifugal compressor turbojets. Instead, Kartveli and his team designed a new aircraft with a streamlined fuselage largely occupied by an axial compressor turbojet engine and fuel stored in rather thick unswept wings.[1]
On 11 September 1944, the USAAF released General Operational Requirements for a day fighter with a top speed of 600 mph (521 kn, 966 km/h), combat radius of 705 miles (612 nmi, 1,135 km), and armament of either six 0.50 in (12.7 mm) or four 0.60 in (15.2 mm) machine guns. In addition, the new aircraft had to use the General Electric TG-180 axial turbojet which entered production as the Allison J35.
On 11 November 1944, Republic received an order for three prototypes of the new XP-84—Model AP-23.[1] Since the design promised superior performance to the Lockheed-built P-80 Shooting Star and Republic had extensive experience in building single-seat fighters, no competition was held for the contract. The name Thunderjet was chosen to continue the Republic Aviation tradition started with the P-47 Thunderbolt while emphasizing the new method of propulsion. On 4 January 1945, even before the aircraft took to the air, the USAAF expanded its order to 25 service test YP-84As and 75 production P-84Bs (later modified to 15 YP-84A and 85 P-84B).
Meanwhile, wind tunnel testing by the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics revealed longitudinal instability and stabilizer skin buckling at high speeds.[1] The weight of the aircraft, a great concern given the low thrust of early turbojets, was growing so quickly that the USAAF had to set a gross weight limit of 13,400 lb (6,080 kg). The results of this preliminary testing were incorporated into the third prototype, designated XP-84A, which was also fitted with a more powerful J35-GE-15 engine with 4,000 lbf (17.79 kN) of thrust.[1]
The first prototype XP-84 was transferred to Muroc Army Air Field (present-day Edwards Air Force Base) where it flew for the first time on 28 February 1946 with Major Wallace A. "Wally" Lien at the controls. It was joined by the second prototype in August, both aircraft flying with J35-GE-7 engines producing 3,745 lbf (16.66 kN). The 15 YP-84As delivered to Patterson Field (present-day Wright-Patterson Air Force Base) for service tests differed from XP-84s by having an upgraded J35-A-15 engine, carrying six 0.50 in (12.7 mm) M2 Browning machine guns (four in the nose and one in each wing root), and having the provision for wingtip fuel tanks holding 226 U.S. gal (856 L) each.
Due to delays with delivery of jet engines and production of the XP-84A, the Thunderjet had undergone only limited flight testing by the time production P-84Bs began to roll out of the factory in 1947. In particular, the impact of wingtip tanks on aircraft handling was not thoroughly studied. This proved problematic later.[1]
After the creation of the United States Air Force by the National Security Act of 1947, the Pursuit designation was replaced with Fighter, and the P-84 became the F-84.
F-84s were assigned to the 27th Fighter Wing, 27th Fighter Escort Wing, 27th Strategic Fighter Wing, 31st Fighter Escort Wing, 127th Fighter Day Wing, 127th Fighter Escort Wing, 127th Strategic Fighter Wing, 407th Strategic Fighter Wing and the 506th Strategic Fighter Wing of the Strategic Air Command from 1947 through 1958.[2]
Operational history
The F-84B, which differed from YP-84A only in having faster-firing M3 machine guns, became operational with 14th Fighter Group at Dow Field, Bangor, Maine in December 1947. Flight restrictions followed immediately, limiting maximum speed to Mach 0.8 due to control reversal, and limiting maximum acceleration to 5.5 g (54 m/s²) due to wrinkling of the fuselage skin. To compound the problem, parts shortages and maintenance difficulties earned the aircraft the nickname, "Mechanic's Nightmare".[1] On 24 May 1948, the entire F-84B fleet was grounded due to structural failures.
P-84Bs of the 48th Fighter Squadron, 14th Fighter Group, 1948.
A 1948 review of the entire F-84 program discovered that none of the F-84B or F-84C aircraft could be considered operational or capable of executing any aspect of their intended mission. The program was saved from cancellation because the F-84D, whose production was well underway, had satisfactorily addressed the major faults. A fly-off against the F-80 revealed that while the Shooting Star had a shorter takeoff roll, better low altitude climb rate and superior maneuverability, the F-84 could carry a greater bomb load, was faster, had better high altitude performance and greater range.[1] As a temporizing measure, the USAF in 1949 committed US$8 million to implement over 100 upgrades to all F-84Bs, most notably reinforcing the wings. Despite the resultant improvements, the F-84B was withdrawn from active duty by 1952.[1]
The F-84C featured a somewhat more reliable J35-A-13 engine and had some engineering refinements. Being virtually identical to the F-84B, the C model suffered from all of the same defects and underwent a similar structural upgrade program in 1949. All F-84Cs were withdrawn from active service by 1952.[1]
The structural improvements were factory-implemented in the F-84D, which entered service in 1949. Wings were covered with thicker aluminum skin, the fuel system was winterized and capable of using JP-4 fuel, and a more powerful J35-A-17D engine with 5,000 lbf (22.24 kN) was fitted. It was discovered that the untested wingtip fuel tanks contributed to wing structural failures by inducing excessive twisting during high-"g" maneuvers.[1] To correct this, small triangular fins were added to the outside of the tanks. The F-84D was phased out of USAF service in 1952 and left Air National Guard (ANG) service in 1957.[1]
The first effective and fully capable Thunderjet was the F-84E model which entered service in 1949. The aircraft featured the J35-A-17 engine, further wing reinforcement, a 12 in (305 mm) fuselage extension in front of the wings and 3 in (76 mm) extension aft of the wings to enlarge the cockpit and the avionics bay, an A-1C gunsight with APG-30 radar, and provision for an additional pair of 230 gal (870 L) fuel tanks to be carried on underwing pylons.[1] The latter increased the combat radius from 850 to 1,000 miles (740 to 870 nmi; 1,370 to 1,610 km).
One improvement to the original F-84 design was rocket racks that folded flush with the wing after the 5-inch HVAR rockets were fired, which reduced drag over the older fixed mounting racks. This innovation was adopted by other U.S. jet fighter-bombers.[3]
A Portuguese F-84 being loaded with ordnance in the 1960s, at Luanda Air Base, during the Portuguese Colonial War.
Despite the improvements, the in-service rates for the F-84E remained poor with less than half of the aircraft operational at any given time.[1] This was primarily due to a severe shortage of spares for the Allison engines. The expectation was that F-84Es would fly 25 hours per month, accumulating 100 hours between engine overhauls. The actual flight hours for Korean War and NATO deployments rapidly outpaced the supply and Allison's ability to manufacture new engines.[1] The F-84E was withdrawn from USAF service in 1956, lingering with ANG units until 1959.
The definitive straight-wing F-84 was the F-84G which entered service in 1951. The aircraft introduced a refueling boom receptacle in the left wing,[4] autopilot, Instrument Landing System, J35-A-29 engine with 5,560 lbf (24.73 kN) of thrust, a distinctive framed canopy (also retrofitted to earlier types), and the ability to carry a single Mark 7 nuclear bomb.[1] The F-84G was retired from USAF in the mid-1960s.
Starting in the early 1960s, the aircraft was deployed by the Força Aérea Portuguesa (FAP) during the Portuguese Colonial War in Africa. By 1972, all four operating F-84 aircraft were supplementing the FAP in Angola.[5]
Flying the Thunderjet
Typical of most early jets, the Thunderjet's takeoff performance left much to be desired. In hot Korean summers with a full combat load, the aircraft routinely required 10,000 ft (3,000 m) of runway for takeoff even with the help of RATO bottles (two or four of these were carried, each producing 1,000 lbf (4.4 kN) of thrust for 14 seconds).[1] All but the lead aircraft had their visibility obscured by the thick smoke from the rockets. Early F-84s had to be pulled off the ground at 160 mph (140 kn, 260 km/h) with the control stick held all the way back. Landings were made at a similar speed, for comparison the North American P-51 Mustang landed at approximately 120 mph (100 kn, 190 km/h). Despite the "hot" landing speeds, the Thunderjet was easy to fly on instruments and crosswinds did not present much of a problem.[6]
An F-84E launching rockets.
Thanks to the thick straight wing the Thunderjet rapidly reached its Mach 0.82 limitation at full throttle and low altitude. The aircraft had sufficient power to fly faster, but exceeding the Mach limit at low altitudes resulted in a violent pitch-up and structural failure causing the wings to break off.[6] Above 15,000 ft (4,600 m), the F-84 could be flown faster but at the expense of severe buffeting. However, the airspeed was sufficiently easy to control to make safe dive bombing from 10,000 ft (3,000 m) possible.[6] The top speed limitation proved troublesome against Soviet Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-15s in Korea. Slower than the MiG, the F-84 was also unable to turn tightly with a maximum instantaneous-turn load of only 3 Gs followed by rapid loss of airspeed. One F-84E pilot credited with two MiG kills achieved his second victory by intentionally flying his aircraft into pitch-up.[6] The MiGs chasing him were unable to follow the violent maneuver and one crashed into the ground. Luckily for the F-84E pilot, the aircraft did not disintegrate but the airframe did suffer heavy warping. The F-84 was a stable gun platform and the computing gunsight aided in accurate gunnery and bombing. Pilots praised the aircraft for Republic's legendary ruggedness.[6]
Pilots nicknamed the Thunderjet "The Lead Sled".[2] It was also called "The Iron Crowbar", "a hole sucking air", "The Hog" ("The Groundhog"), and "The World's Fastest Tricycle", "Ground Loving Whore" as a testament to its long takeoff rolls.[2] F-84 lore stated that all aircraft were equipped with a "sniffer" device that, upon passing V2, would look for the dirt at the end of the runway. As soon as the device could smell the dirt, the controls would turn on and let the pilot fly off the ground. In the same vein, it was suggested a bag of dirt should be carried in the front landing gear well. Upon reaching V2, the pilot would dump the dirt under the wheels, fooling the sniffer device.[2]
Korean War
The Thunderjet had a distinguished record during the Korean War. Although the F-84B and F-84C could not be deployed because their J35 engines had a service life of only 40 hours, the F-84D and F-84E entered combat with 27th Fighter Escort Group on 7 December 1950.[1] The aircraft were initially tasked with escorting the B-29 Superfortress bombers. The first Thunderjet air-to-air victory was scored on 21 January 1951 at the cost of two F-84s.[2] The F-84 was a generation behind the swept-wing Soviet Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-15 and outmatched, especially when the MiGs were flown by more-experienced pilots, and the MiG counter-air mission was soon given to the F-86 Sabre. Like its famous predecessor, the P-47, the F-84 switched to the low-level interdiction role at which it excelled.
A KB-29M tanker refueling an F-84E over Korea. F-84Es could only refuel the wingtip tanks separately.
F-84G-26-RE Thunderjet 51-16719 while assigned to the 3600th Air Demonstration Team (USAF Thunderbirds), 1954.
The F-84 flew a total of 86,408 missions, dropping 55,586 tons (50,427 metric tons) of bombs and 6,129 tons (5,560 metric tons) of napalm.[2] The USAF claimed F-84s were responsible for 60% of all ground targets destroyed in the war. Notable F-84 operations included the 1952 attack on the Sui-ho Dam. During the war, the F-84 became the first USAF fighter to utilize aerial refueling. In aerial combat, F-84 pilots were credited with eight MiG-15 kills against a Soviet-claimed loss of 64 aircraft. The total losses were 335 F-84D, E and G models.[2]
Portuguese Overseas War
In 1961, the Portuguese Air Force sent 25 of their remaining F-84G to Angola. There they formed the Esquadra 91 (91st Squadron), based at Luanda Air Base. From then on, the F-84s were engaged in the Angolan Theater of the Portuguese Overseas War, being mainly employed in air strike missions against the separatist guerrillas.
The last F-84 were kept operational in Angola until 1974.
Notable achievements
The F-84 was the first aircraft flown by the U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds, which operated F-84G Thunderjets from 1953 to 1955 and F-84F Thunderstreaks from 1955 to 1956. The F-84E was also flown by the Skyblazers team of United States Air Forces Europe (USAFE) from 1950 to 1955.[1]
On 7 September 1946, the second XP-84 prototype set a national speed record of 607.2 mph (527.6 kn, 977.2 km/h), slightly slower than the world record 612.2 mph (532.0 kn, 985.2 km/h) held by the British Gloster Meteor.[1]
On 22 September 1950, two EF-84Es, flown by David C. Schilling and Col. William Ritchie, flew across the North Atlantic from Great Britain to the United States. Ritchie's aircraft ran out of fuel over Newfoundland but the other successfully made the crossing which took ten hours two minutes and three aerial refuelings. The flight demonstrated that large numbers of fighters could be rapidly moved across the Atlantic.[1]
F-84G was the first fighter with built-in aerial refueling capability and the first single-seat aircraft capable of carrying a nuclear bomb.[1]
On 20 August 1953, 17 F-84Gs using aerial refueling flew from the United States to the United Kingdom. The 4,485-mile (3,900 nmi, 7,220 km) journey was the longest-ever nonstop flight by jet fighters.[1]
In 1955, an F-84G became the first aircraft to be zero-length launched from a trailer.[7]
By the mid-1960s, the F-84/F-84F was replaced by the F-100 Super Sabre and the RF-84F by the RF-101 Voodoo in USAF units, being relegated to duty in the Air National Guard. The last F-84F Thunderflash retired from the ANG in 1971. Three Hellenic Air Force RF-84Fs that were retired in 1991 were the last operational F-84s.
Costs
F-84BF-84CF-84DF-84EF-84GF-84FRF-84F
Airframe139,863139,863150,846562,715482,821
Engine41,65441,65441,488146,02795,320
Electronics7,1657,1654,7619,62321,576
Armament23,55923,55937,43341,71363,632
Ordnance2,7199,2524,529
Flyaway cost286,407 for the first 100
163,994 for the next 141147,699212,241212,241237,247769,300667,608
Cost per flying hour390
Maintenance cost per flying hour185185
Notes: The costs are in approximately 1950 United States dollars and have not been adjusted for inflation.[1]
Variants
Straight-wing variants
The XP-84A (foreground) and YP-84As
XP-84
The first two prototypes.
XP-84A
The third prototype with a more powerful J35-GE-15 engine. This airframe was subsequently modified with a pointed fairing over the intake and lateral NACA intakes were installed into the intake trunks.
YP-84A
Service test aircraft; 15 built.
P-84B (F-84B)
First production version, J35-A-15 engine; 226 built.
F-84C
Reverted to the more reliable J35-A-13 engine, improved fuel, hydraulic and electrical systems; 191 built.
F-84D
J35-A-17 engine, various structural improvements. The pitot tube was moved from the tail fin to the splitter in the air intake with fins added to the wingtip fuel tanks; 154 built.
F84 E&G Thunderjet French Air Force 1951–1955
EF-84D
Two F-84Ds, EF-84D 48-641 and EF-84D 48-661 were modified with coupling devices; 641 starboard wing, 661 port wing for "Tip-Tow Project MX106 Wing Coupling Experiments." An EB-29A 44-62093 was modified with coupling devices on both wings. Because of the difference in landing gear lengths, the three aircraft took off separately and couple/uncoupled in flight. The pilot of 641 was Major John M. Davis and the pilot of 661 was Major C.E. "Bud" Anderson.
"One of the more interesting experiments undertaken to extend the range of the early jets in order to give fighter protection to the piston-engine bombers, was the provision for inflight attachment/detachment of fighter to bomber via wingtip connections. One of the several programs during these experiments was done with a B-29 mother ship and two F-84D 'children', and was code named 'Tip Tow'. A number of flights were undertaken, with several successful cycles of attachment and detachment, using, first one, and then two F-84s. The pilots of the F-84s maintained manual control when attached, with roll axis maintained by elevator movement rather than aileron movement. Engines on the F-84s were shut down in order to save fuel during the 'tow' by the mother ship, and inflight engine restarts were successfully accomplished. The experiment ended in disaster during the first attempt to provide automatic flight control of the F-84s, when the electronics apparently malfunctioned. The left hand F-84 rolled onto the wing of the B-29, and the connected aircraft both crashed with loss of all on board personnel (Anderson had uncoupled so did not crash with the other two aircraft)."[8]
F-84E
J35-A-17D engine, Sperry AN/APG-30 radar-ranging gunsight, retractable attachments for RATO bottles, inboard wing hardpoints made "wet" to permit carrying an additional pair of 230 U.S. gal (870 L) fuel tanks. Most aircraft were retrofitted with F-84G-style reinforced canopies. The fuselage was stretched 15"; the canopy was lengthened 8", the canopy frame was lengthened 12" (accounting for another 4"), and a 3" splice panel was added aft of the canopy. The stretch was not done to enlarge the cockpit but rather to enable a larger fuel tank, provide additional space for equipment under the canopy behind the pilot's seat, and to improve aerodynamics. This can be distinguished from earlier models by the presence of two fuel vents on ventral rear fuselage, the added radar in the nose splitter, and the pitot tube was moved downward from mid-height in the splitter (as on the F-84D) to clear the radar installation. 843 built. F-84E 49-2031 was a test aircraft for air-to-air missiles. F-84E 50-1115 was a test aircraft for the FICON project.
EF-84E
Two F-84Es were converted into test prototypes, to test various methods of air-to-air refueling. EF-84E 49-2091 was used as a probe-and-drogue test aircraft. The probe was mid-span on the port wing. Production aircraft with probes (removable) had the probe fitted to the auxiliary wing tanks. EF-84E 49-2115 was used as a FICON test aircraft with a B-36 host. EF-84E 49-1225 and EF-84E 51-634 were test aircraft for the ZELMAL (Zero-length launch, Mat landing) experiments version for point defense, used the booster rocket from MGM-1 Matador cruise missile.
F-84G
Single-seat fighter-bomber capable of delivering the Mark 7 nuclear bomb using the LABS, J35-A-29 engine, autopilot, capable of inflight refueling using both the boom (receptacle in left wing leading edge) and drogue (probe fitted to wingtip fuel tanks), introduced the multi-framed canopy which was later retrofitted to earlier straight-winged F-84s. A total of 3,025 were built (1,936 for NATO under MDAP). The larger engine had a higher airflow at its take-off thrust than the intake had been designed for. This caused higher flow velocities, increased pressure losses and thrust loss. Commencing with block 20, auxiliary "suck-in" doors were added ahead of the wing leading edge to regain some of the thrust loss. At high engine rpm and low aircraft speeds, such as take-off, the spring-loaded doors were sucked open by the partial vacuum created in the duct. When the aircraft reached sufficient airspeed the ram pressure rise in the duct closed the auxiliary doors.[9] F-84G 51-1343 was modified with a periscope system to test the periscope installation proposed for the Republic XF-103.
F-84KX
Eighty ex-USAF F-84Bs converted into target drones for the United States Navy.
RF-84G
F-84G Thunderjets converted by France and Yugoslavia for recon duty with cameras in the ventral fuselage and modified auxiliary wing tanks.
YF-96A aka YF-84F aka YRF-84K
F-84E 49-2430 converted to swept wing configuration. The "first prototype" for the F-84F Thunderstreak. Canopy and ventral speed brake carried over from Thunderjet. Originally with a V-windscreen, later reverted to the standard Thunderjet flat windscreen. Modified by adding a fixed hook at the weapons bay and anhedral horizontal tailplane to enable FICON tests (trapeze capture) with GRB-36D mother ship. The airframe was capable of higher speeds than the Thunderjet engine could deliver. The YF-84F was a follow on with a larger engine and deepened fuselage.
YF-84F
F-84G 51-1344 converted to swept wing configuration. The "second prototype" for the F-84F Thunderstreak. Fuselage deepened by 7 inches (180 mm) to accommodate larger engine. Canopy and ventral speed brake carried over from Thunderjet, tail configuration same as YF-96A.
YF-84F aka YRF-84F
F-84G 51-1345 converted to swept wing configuration with a pointed nose and lateral intakes. This was a test airframe to evaluate the effects of moving the intakes to the wing roots. Like 1344, the fuselage was deepened by 7 inches (180 mm) to accommodate larger engine. Canopy and ventral speed brake carried over from Thunderjet, tail configuration same as YF-96A. For the swept wing versions of the F-84 series, see Republic F-84F Thunderstreak
Tip-Tow
See EF-84D above, did not become operational. See FICON project
Tom-Tom
Two RF-84K and B-36 wingtip coupling experiment, did not become operational. See FICON project
FICON
F-84E and GRB-36D trapeze system, became operational. See FICON project
Swept-wing variants
Main articles: Republic F-84F Thunderstreak and Republic XF-84H
YF-84F
Two swept-wing prototypes of the F-84F, initially designated YF-96A.
F-84F Thunderstreak
Swept wing version with Wright J65 engine.
RF-84F Thunderflash
Reconnaissance version of the F-84F, 715 built.
RF-84K FICON project
Reconnaissance version of the F model, 25 built to hang from the Consolidated B-36 Peacemaker.
XF-84H Thunderscreech
Experimental supersonic-turboprop version.
YF-84J
Two conversions with the General Electric J73 engine.
Operators
Republic F-84 Thunderjet in the Royal Military Museum at the Jubelpark, Brussels.
Imperial Iranian Air Force F-84G of the Golden Crown aerobatic team.
Republic F-84 Thunderjet at the en:Italian Air Force Museum, Vigna di Valle in 2012.
Royal Norwegian Air Force Republic F-84G Thunderjet.
Portuguese Air Force F-84 Thunderjet.
Belgium
Belgian Air Force operated 213 Republic F-84G from March 1952 until September 1957 and 21 Republic RF-84E
Denmark
Danish Air Force operated 240 Republic F-84G fromApril 1952 until January 1962 and 6 Republic F-84E[10]
France
French Air Force operated 335 F-84G from April 1952 until November 1956 and 46 Republic F-84E
Greece
Hellenic Air Force operated 234 Republic F-84G from March 1952 until June 1960. They equipped the 335, 336, 337, 338, 339 and 340 Squadrons (Μοίρα Δίωξης)
Iran Iran
Imperial Iranian Air Force operated 69 Republic F-84G from May 1957 until September 1961
Italy
Italian Air Force operated 256 Republic F-84G from March 1952 until May 1957[11][12]
Netherlands
Netherlands Air Force operated 166 Republic F-84G from April 1952 until December 1957 and 21 Republic RF-84E
Norway
Norwegian Air Force operated 208 Republic F-84G from June 1952 until Jun 1960 and 6 Republic F-84E from 1951 until 1956 and 35 Republic RF-84F from 1956 until 1970
Portugal
Portuguese Air Force operated 125 Republic F-84G from January 1953 until July 1974
Taiwan (Republic of China)
Republic of China Air Force operated 246 Republic F-84G from June 1953 until April 1964
Thailand
Royal Thai Air Force operated 31 Republic F-84G from November 1956 until 1963
Turkey
Turkish Air Force operated 489 Republic F-84G from March 1952 until June 1966
United States
United States Air Force operated 226 Republic F-84B, 191 Republic F-84C, 154 Republic F-84D, 743 Republic F-84E, 789 Republic F-84G
Yugoslavia
Yugoslavian Air Force operated 231 Republic (R)F-84G from June 1953 until July 1974
Major USAF operational F-84 units
Republic F-84E-15-RE Thunderjet Serial 49-2338 of the 136th Fighter-Bomber Wing, Korea
10th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing: RF-84F (1955–1958)
12th Fighter Escort Wing/Group: F-84E/G/F (1950–1957;1962–1964)
14th Fighter Wing/Group: P/F-84B (1947–1949)
15th Tactical Fighter Wing: F-84F (1962–1964)
20th Fighter Bomber Wing/Group: F-84B/C/D/E/F/G (1958–1959)
27th Fighter Escort Wing/Group: F-84E/G/F (1950–1958)
31st Fighter Escort Wing/Group: F-84C/E/F (1948–1950; 1951–1957)
49th Fighter Bomber Wing/Group: F-84E/G (1951–1953)
58th Fighter Bomber Group: F-84E/G (1952–1954)
66th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing: RF-84F (1955–1959)
67th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing: (15th & 45th TRS5) RF-84F/K (1955–1958)
71st Strategic Reconnaissance Wing: RF-84F/K (1955–1956)
81st Fighter Bomber Wing/Group: F-84F (1954–1959)
136th Fighter Bomber Wing/Group F-84E (1951–1952) @ K2, also J-13
312th Fighter Bomber Group: F-84E/G (1954–1955)
363rd Tactical Reconnaissance Wing: RF-84F (1954–1958)
366th Fighter Bomber Wing/Tactical Fighter Wing: F-84E,F (1954–1958;1962–1965)
401st Fighter Bomber Wing/Tactical Fighter Wing: F-84F (1957)
405th Fighter Bomber Wing/Tactical Fighter Wing: F-84F (1953–1956)
407th Strategic Fighter Wing: F-84F (1954–1957)
474th Fighter Bomber Wing: F-84D/E/G (1952–1953)
506th Strategic Fighter Wing: F-84F (1953–1957)
508th Strategic Fighter Wing: F-84F (1952–1956)
3540th Combat Crew Training Wing: F-84E (1952–1953)
3600th Combat Crew Training Wing: F-84D/E/G/F (1952–1957)
Redesignated 4510th CCTW with F-84D/F (1958)
3645th Combat Crew Training Wing: F-84E/G (1953–1957)
4925th Test Group (Atomic): F-84E/F/G (1950–1963)
Royal Netherlands Air Force operational F-84 units
JVS-2 (Jacht Vlieger School): RF-84E (1953)
306 Squadron: F-84G (1953–1954) / RF-84E (1954-1957)
311 Squadron: RF-84E (1951-1952) / F-84G (1952-1956)
312 Squadron: RF-84E (1951-1954) / F-84G (1952-1956)
313 Squadron: RF-84E (1953-1954) / F-84G (1953-1956)
314 Squadron: F-84G (1952-1956)
315 Squadron: F-84G (1952-1956)
Aircraft on display
A F-84 during Zero-length launch testing
Croatia
F-84G
10676 Ex-USAF – Rijeka Airport, Omišalj.[13]
Denmark
F-84G
51-9966/KR-A – Aalborg Defence and Garrison Museum, Aalborg[14]
51-10622/KU-U – Aalborg Defence and Garrison Museum[14]
A-777/SY-H – Danmarks Tekniske Museum, Helsingør[15]
KP-X – Danish Collection of Vintage Aircraft, Skjern[16]
RF-84F
C-581 – Flyvestation Karup Historiske Forening Museet, Karup[17]
C-264 – Danish Collection of Vintage Aircraft, Skjern[16]
Netherlands
F-84G
K-171 – Nationaal Militair Museum, Soesterberg.[18]
Norway
F-84G
51-10161 – Flyhistorisk Museum, Sola, Stavanger Airport, Sola, near Stavanger.[19]
51-11209 – Forsvarets flysamling Gardermoen, Oslo Airport, Gardermoen near Oslo.[20]
52-2912 - Ørland Main Air Station
52-8465 – Royal Norwegian Air Force Museum, Bodø[21]
Portugal
F-84G
5131 – Museu do Ar, Sintra Air Base, Sintra.[22]
5201 - Military and Technical Training Center of the Air Force, Ota (Alenquer).[23]
Serbia
F-84G
10501 – Ex-USAF 52-2936, c/n 3050-1855B Museum of Aviation, Nikola Tesla Airport, Belgrade.[24][verification needed]
10525 – Ex-USAF 52-2939, c/n 3050-1858B Museum of Aviation, Nikola Tesla Airport, Belgrade.[25][verification needed]
10530 – Ex-USAF 52-8435, c/n 3250-2260B Museum of Aviation, Nikola Tesla Airport, Belgrade.[26][verification needed]
Slovenia
F-84G
10642 Ex-USAF 52-2910, c/n 3050-1829B – Pivka Military History Park, Pivka.[27]
Thailand
F-84G at the Royal Thai Air Force Museum
F-84G
51-10582 Ex-USAF and retired Royal Thai Air Force fighter in Royal Thai Air Force Museum
Turkey
110572 F-84G at Atatürk Airport.
F-84G
10572 – Istanbul Aviation Museum.
19953 – Atatürk Airport, İstanbul.
RF-84F
1901 – Istanbul Aviation Museum.
1917 – Istanbul Aviation Museum.
United States
YP-84A
45-59494 – Discovery Park of America, Union City, Tennessee. Formerly at Octave Chanute Aerospace Museum at the former Chanute Air Force Base in Rantoul, Illinois.[28][29]
F-84B
45-59504 – Cradle of Aviation Museum in Garden City, New York.[30]
45-59556 – Planes of Fame Museum in Chino, California.[31]
46-0666 – Mid-Atlantic Air Museum in Reading, Pennsylvania.[32]
F-84C
47-1433 – Pima Air and Space Museum, adjacent to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona.[33]
47-1486 – Goldwater Air National Guard Base, Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix, Arizona.[34]
47-1498 – EAA Airventure Museum in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.[35]
47-1513 – Kansas Aviation Museum at McConnell Air Force Base in Wichita, Kansas.[36]
47-1530 – Cannon Air Force Base, New Mexico.[37]
47-1562 – Pueblo Weisbrod Aircraft Museum in Pueblo, Colorado.[38]
47-1595 – March Field Air Museum at March Air Reserve Base (former March Air Force Base) in Riverside, California.[39]
F-84E
F-84E at the USAF Museum
49-2155 – Yanks Air Museum in Chino, California.[40]
49-2285 – Texas Military Forces Museum in Austin, Texas.[41]
49-2348 – American Airpower Museum in East Farmingdale, New York.[42]
50-1143 – National Museum of the United States Air Force at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio. It was obtained from Robins Air Force Base, Georgia, in October 1963.[43]
51-0604 – Museum of Aviation at Robins Air Force Base, Georgia.[44]
F-84G
51-0791 – Springfield Air National Guard Base, Springfield, Ohio.[45]
51-11126 - under restoration to airworthiness by a Vulcan Warbirds Inc. for the Flying Heritage Collection in Seattle, Washington.[46][47]
52-3242 – Hill Aerospace Museum, Hill Air Force Base, Utah.[48]
52-8365 - under restoration to airworthiness by a private owner in Edmonds, Washington.[49][50]
Specifications (F-84G Thunderjet)
Line drawing of F-84C
Data from Encyclopedia of US Air Force Aircraft and Missile Systems[1]
General characteristics
Crew: one
Length: 38 ft 1 in (11.60 m)
Wingspan: 36 ft 5 in (11.10 m)
Height: 12 ft 7 in (3.84 m)
Wing area: 260 ft² (24 m²)
Empty weight: 11,470 lb (5,200 kg)
Loaded weight: 18,080 lb (8,200 kg)
Max. takeoff weight: 23,340 lb (10,590 kg)
Powerplant: 1 × Allison J35-A-29 turbojet, 5,560 lbf (24.7 kN)
Performance
Maximum speed: 622 mph (540 kn, 1,000 km/h,Mach .81)
Cruise speed: 475 mph (413 kn, 770 km/h)
Range: 1,000 mi (870 nmi, 1,600 km) combat
Ferry range: 2,000 mi (1,700 nmi, 3,200 km) with external tanks
Service ceiling: 40,500 ft (12,350 m)
Rate of climb: 3,765 ft/min (19.1 m/s)
Wing loading: 70 lb/ft² (342 kg/m²)
Thrust/weight: 0.31 lbf/lb
Armament
6 × .50 in (12.7 mm) M3 Browning machine guns, 300 rpg
Up to 4,450 lb (2,020 kg) of rockets and bombs, including 1 × Mark 7 nuclear bomb
Avionics
A-1CM or A-4 gunsight with APG-30 or MK-18 ranging radar
F-84F Thunderstreak
Republic XF-91 Thunderceptor
XF-84H Thunderscreech
Aircraft of comparable role, configuration and era
Dassault Ouragan
de Havilland Venom
Gloster Meteor
Grumman F9F Cougar
Grumman F9F Panther
McDonnell XF-85 Goblin
copyright: © FSUBF. All rights reserved. Please do not use this image, or any images from my photostream, without my permission.
I was having some problems with the auto focus on my camera. Luckily it was still under warranty. It turned out to be just a kitchen knife on my sensor.
A couple more shots from the night of knife throwing in my kitchen.
Strobist: straight from the camera. the knife is really flying. 1 shoot through cam left, 1 bounced cam right, 1 gelled to BG(poor coverage), and 1 cam mounted for the front of the knife. Timed the toss with the timer.
Meet the Falcon that keeps trying to get at my birds ><....I know he's just hungry and doing what he needs to do....Just wish he didnt need to do it with my birds. Luckily he has not succeeded yet due to my awesome Crows and Jays :D
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Abused Abandoned Street Dogs.
Asian Wildlife Photography.
Nikon D300 DX Camera.
Nikkor 17-55 2.8 Lens.
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Back Story..............................
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This is the Alpha male that did an aggressive flanking
move on my #1 wife stealing a bag of food brought for the puppy.
Notice white rice and bits of meat still scattered on the step .
Figuring he would come back to finish up anything that was spilled.
I in turn was waiting to now ambush the ambush-er ...........;-)
.
He was not easily intimidated at all !! He charged with fangs flashing.
I counter charged with baton in full motion. He charged in closer then usual and caught a rat-a-tat-tat on his chest and rib cage.
Now you notice the baton is a very short hand held tool, good for doing close quarter work.
Problem is the crazy primate has the high ground which puts us face to face with him having the better advantage.
He retreated backup the stairs trying once more to clip me as my head came into view while I was advancing upward.
But when he heard the whistle made by the baton whizzing past his ear his second retreat was made.
We did go toe to toe one more time once I was on the 3rd floor but he wanted no part of the baton and finally took off over the wall.
.
Today Thursday, October 17th the little black puppy was slightly better.
Still has a fever but was taking fluids and food with not much problem.
Medicine was administered as the veterinarian had prescribed, more will be given tomorrow too.
Baby-san is hiding somewhere and most likely has had her litter.
We looked high and low with no success. There is an older monk that has also been looking for her but so far nothing..
I suspect she will make an appearance in 4 or 5 days, typical of wild dogs giving birth in the bush...Till then we will care for the new addition.
.
FYI: little white specks at the top of the stairs....rain drops ....
.
Jon and Crew still somewhere in Thailand.
Before you add me as a contact please read
my profile.
Thank You.
Jon&Crew.
Please help with your donations here.
www.gofundme.com/saving-thai-temple-dogs.
Please,
No Awards, Invites, Large Logos or Copy an Pastes.
.
Here is Arriva Buses Wales Optare Solo CX58 ETY 671 while its on the 44A heading back to Bangor as this is having problems while the doors won't open as the driver pushes the button for the doors, maby it got jamed, suddenly another driver comes and comes in through the fire exit door then opens the doors on the inside which it works and he comes out closes the doors then pushed the outside button then it opens and it's ready to head out while 671 is operating passangers on the route 78 to Maesgeichen.
Today is world mental health day and as someone who suffers with mental health problems this a gooder day if any to remind people if you feel down in any way due to your mental health please contact either a mental health call centre or your local GP. The help is out there and there people that can guide you through your challenges in life.
After I had a mental health breakdown in April this year I immediately got in contact with my local gp who recommended me to a local mental health charity in Milton Keynes and they have been fantastic for me not only helping me cope with ongoing pandemic but it allow me for the first time to talk to a professional about my desires and feelings to be a woman in the near future which I discussed in my post on Thursday.
For any admirers out there thank you for your continued thank you your support it very much welcomed but just be aware that me and many other trans woman have probably in life had some sort of mental health issues and we can be a little fragile so just take care of us ladies and please be respectful to our individual journeys thank you.
Photo is from October 2018. Where I'm in what a staple for me a black skirt suit white top, nude tights and black dolies flat shoes.
No es un problema para mi...Es un problema para ti
algÚN problem? O no problem?
Parque de los estudiantes
cali
c-c
.:: New Post
☆ Credits: :ANDORE:,[avarosa],Not Found,Hardcore,Legacy,Lelutka,lel,Problem Ink,ALPHA Event
☆ Head: LeLUTKA Eon Head
☆ Ears: :ANDORE: - ears - PIXIE -
☆ Skin: [avarosa] Vlad Skin (Brows) - Ruddy
☆ Body: [LEGACY] Meshbody (m) Athletic Edition
☆ Hairbase: Not Found - Eon Hairbase Black 2
☆ Shape: :: HARDCORE :: Tank Shape for Lel Logan & Legacy/Jake Body
☆ Set: Problem Ink - Denom Set
Store Taxi: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Smooth%20Peaches/232/79/2501
Marketplace: marketplace.secondlife.com/stores/205044
Event Taxi: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/ACCESS%203/132/111/1001
ALPHA EVENT
☆ My Networks: ayashiagnus.carrd.co/
No checkout lane soda
Edwardsville, PA. February 2020.
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If you would like to use THIS picture in any sort of media elsewhere (such as newspaper or article), please send me a Flickrmail or send me an email at natehenderson6@gmail.com
They say that two halves make a whole but in this case it doesn't seem to.....
Thanks for having a look ..... appreciate it ...... best bigger ....... hope you have a Great Weekend
Man with the plan: Joe Edelman
Photographer: Justin Bonaparte
Copyright 2019 by Justin Bonaparte. All Rights Reserved.
Maybe there is someone lucky out there
Maybe there is someone stupid out there
BUT
im sure that there is someone learn his lesson
I uploaded the new IOS 16 to my iPhone today. I took some photos but when I tried to load them to my Mac, I could see them on the screen but could not import them. I've had a nice text chat with Barbara in Mississippi who works for Apple and she has scheduled a phone call for me tomorrow morning. Let's hope it can be sorted out.