This is all great stuff. Ever since I decided to major in Philosophy in college many decades ago, I had to face the inevitable questions from family and friends:

“Why major in something (as useless) as Philosophy? What can you do (on a practical level) with a degree in Philosophy?”

I felt like I needed to “defend” my decision, so I usually replied with:

“Philosophy draws from all disciplines, so you get a great education in everything from Science to the Humanities. Philosophy teaches you how to think.”

So I have always thought of Philosophy as a process rather than a specific discipline, such as Chemistry or History which have certain well-defined bodies of content. In that sense, Philosophy runs through everything – vertically, as it were – rather than sitting (highest) on top of it all. This is probably a distinction with a difference, but what the hell….

(There is a proffered escape clause, but nowadays that business is too controversial, so I’m leaving it out.) — ucarr

Very interesting post but you should've left this out if you don't want us to ask what this controversial escape clause is. — Nils Loc

I believe I’ve narrowed it down to one of two possibilities: The escape clause is either receiving a free ticket to The Louvre, or being granted a confession at the Vatican. :cool:

There’s an endless war between art and morality. — ucarr

Instead of art and morality being juxtaposed, is it possible to look at morality as a subset (or genre) of art? Someone living a “moral life” (define this as you will) can be viewed like a type of “performance art” – alongside of dance, theater and opera.

Let me try to be a bit more constructive.

'Can a qualitative difference between humans and other animals be found in what humans "do" differently rather than how humans "are" different?'

— Thales

..... by reflecting on the question. — Ludwig V

Thank you, Ludwig V, for reflecting further on my question, and trying to rescue me from myself. I don’t even think my mother would do that! :cool:

Suppose that, in the end, there wasn't a qualitative difference between homo sapiens but a number of differences in degree, on a spectrum. (I think that's likely to be the truth of it). Why would that matter? — Ludwig V

I agree that some differences between homo sapiens and other animals are “differences in degree, on a spectrum.” For instance, it could be argued that my singing and a lion’s roaring could be put on such a spectrum. And I absolutely agree that it wouldn’t matter. In fact, I would be proud to take my place along lions (and other animals that bark, screech, hoot, etc.) on the same spectrum.

On the other hand, there seems to be something (qualitatively) going on here as well.

Because whenever animals use their “voices,” it is for some survival reason – e.g., mating, warning, etc. And that’s it. Animals don’t use different voice “genres,” or plan out concert schedules, or reserve venues, or collect money, or issue tickets, or require dress codes, etc. These are activities that, it seems to me, appear on a completely different spectrum from “survivability.”

Although humans can (and do) use their voices for survival reasons – e.g., yelling at an attacker to scare him away – they are also able to sing for a lot of other reasons. In addition, humans employ a great number of different genres when they sing. Consider jazz, opera, gospel, pop, country, blues, rock and roll, classical and hip-hop as examples – which mostly have no survivability purpose. (I’ll admit sometimes singers are getting paychecks by which they “make a living,” but certainly most singing is for enjoyment, expression of emotions or some other “human” reason.)

I would argue that it would be a category mistake to place animal voices anywhere on the spectrum(s) of nightclubs/music halls/radios/gin joints, where listening to music is free/cheap/expensive, the dress code is casual/festive/semi-formal/formal, and reviews are available via TV/newspapers/blogs/casual conversation. It just doesn’t make sense to talk about animals this way.

Well, as a postscript, I now see that this discussion has continued down a decidedly different path (principally by Janus and Wayfarer), so if you want to just ignore my rambling here, I’m fine with it. My argument seems pretty naive anyway.

Moving on to make tools that make tools looks a bit desperate to me. — Ludwig V

"Desperate" is my middle name! :cool:

Can a qualitative difference between humans and other animals be found in what humans "do" differently rather than how humans "are" different? For example, humans make tools that make tools. Whereas a sea otter may use a rock to crack open shellfish for food, humans create tools (machinery) to manufacture lobster and crab crackers. This seems to be a behavior that animals lack.

I've been absorbing a great deal of information from John Vervaeke's Awakening from the Meaning Crisis. A key idea which is relevant to your question is a term he introduced, 'transjective'. The 'transjective' refers to the dynamic, participatory relationship between the subject and the world, in which meaning arises through interaction rather than being either imposed by the subject ('in the mind') or existing outside ('in the world'). Vervaeke argues that the objective/subjective distinction presents a false dilemma because it overlooks how humans are always embedded in a web of relationships and processes within which meaning arises. The 'transjective' thus highlights the co-emergence of perception and reality, suggesting that meaning is neither purely personal nor purely external but is co-constituted through engagement with the world. And that applies to meaning in all the different senses of that word, from the utilitarian to the aesthetic, which arise along a continuum, from a spider spinning a web to a poet spinning a sonnet. — Wayfarer

This is great stuff, Wayfarer... "meaning" is nonorientable, like the one-sided, one-edged Möbius strip with an infinite loop. Makes total sense to me. Breaking apart "subject" from "object," or "perception" from "reality," is like trying to separate "heads" from "tails" of a coin. To do so destroys the coin in the process and misdirects the discussion before it can even begin. (Forgive me my basket of mixed metaphors here!)

What I had initially thought was a nice and tidy solution to the personal identity problem has been shattered into a myriad of interesting arguments, considerations and examples – including: AmadeusD's “Unicornkin,” Vera Mont’s “reindeer,” 180 Proof’s “Neurath’s Boat,” kudos’ “Hegelian dialectic,” and unenlightened and Fire Ologists’s “weather patterns.”

. — AmadeusD

. — Vera Mont

. — 180 Proof

. — kudos

. — unenlightened

. — Fire Ologist

Consequently, I now find myself in the abyss. However, I’m going to try climbing out with another attempt. This time, my recipe will consist of a dash of Wittgenstein:

When we enter into a discussion about “personal identity” – that is, whether or not it makes sense to say that a newborn baby at time t1 and space s1 can be the same person as a full-grown adult at time t2 and space s2 – we agree on the terms we are using (e.g., “same person,” “newborn baby,” “full-grown adult,” etc.).

Call it what you like – “the rules of the game,” “inherited background,” whatever – but this agreement gives us the ability to enter into and engage in the discussion. Without this common ground, we could not even begin to have intelligible discourse. Were we not to use the same language game, we would be plunged into an infinite regress of epistemological skepticism, where even the skeptic’s arguments become absurd. It would be like two people trying to play a game of chess with one using chess rules and the other the rules of checkers. It’s a nonstarter.

So at the very least, we enter into this discussion about personal identity with an inherited background (or foundation) about what it means to be a person and, equally important, what it means to say that a person maintains his or her identity over time and space. Again, such unquestioned, inherited foundations are a necessary part of everything we talk (and argue) about intelligibly. So…

…hopefully the rope I’m using to pull myself out of the abyss won’t be used to hang me:

There can be no arguments to prove or disprove personal identity. It’s just an accepted fact or “rule” that it exists. Like G.E. Moore’s hand, the reality of personal identity is at best trivially true. To question it or wonder about it or discuss it may be interesting, but in the end, such discourse is misleading. Personal identity is a given. Otherwise, what is it that we are talking about?

And yet our intutions (or what Kahneman refers to as fast thinking) provide a necessary basis for us to be able to think at all, and logic (Kahneman's slow thinking) can work synergistically/critically with our intuitions, and lead to us developing more reliable intuitions. For me, understanding 'the scientific method' and the role of observations in testing the reliability of intuitions, and achieving recognition that one of my current intuitions is faulty has been something which had enabled me to improve the reliability of my intuitions over the long run. — wonderer1

This reminds me of Karl Popper's "Bold Conjectures," which he posited as an important, initial part of doing science that is then put through the rigors of testing, observation, measuring and other rational methods. In short, "intuitions" are (or can be) "bold conjectures," and can therefore be very useful in pursuing and obtaining knowledge.

Please forgive me if this is totally off-topic, but this discussion brings to my mind Wittenstein’s Tractatus, which on the opening page reads:

“The world is the totality of facts, not of things.”

“Facts,” for example, allow for the recognition of relations without the necessity of assigning “physical (or immaterial) existence” to them. “The back door is to the right of the dining room table” describes the relation of two physical objects to each other. Again, “to the right of,” is a relation and not a physical object; and yet it exists in the world. It’s a fact, not a thing.

"Facts” also allow for the recognition of other categories of non-physical reality. Interest rates, for example, are arguably real while, at the same time, not regarded as physical objects. But neither are interest rates considered mystical, spiritual or immaterial. After all, interest rates directly affect the amount of money that accumulates in bank accounts.

Interestingly, physical events such as hurricanes and war can affect interest rates; and so can non-physical situations such as panic and market conditions. So again, it’s perhaps best to say interest rates are facts, not physical (or immaterial) things.

Again, apologies for my making this sideways comment! Keep twalking amongst yourselves! :cool:

I may be channeling Wittgenstein (I can hear the collective groans out there), but doesn’t the fact that we can have this discussion at all mean that we are all participating in the same form of life – a form of life called, “perception” – and, along with it, a certain inherited background of mutually agreed-upon “rules” (for want of a better term)?

Specifically, there is something we all have as organisms – including sensory organs, nervous systems and brains – that allow us to interact with the world. And then, of course, there is the world (and everything in it) that we interact with – e.g., red pens and berries. This is a given, because without this commonality, we would be unable to have any kind of meaningful discourse – whether we are in agreement or not.

At the very least, this inherited background (or foundation) gives us the ability to enter into a discussion about how perception happens, whether it is veridical or not, how to distinguish “real” perception from hallucinogenic ones, what we experience in dreams, etc. And importantly, we agree on the terms we use in our discourse – otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to discuss this topic intelligibly. Again, such unquestioned, inherited foundations are part of everything we talk (and argue) about.

Consider an experiment involving a beaker of liquid. The beaker is the means by which we have access to the liquid so that we may gain knowledge about it – i.e., the liquid’s chemical composition, volume, weight, and so on. The beaker makes the liquid accessible and measurable. Otherwise, the liquid would just be random spillage on the floor, making it impossible to accurately access it for observation. However…

…the beaker itself is not part of the discussion. Where the beaker was manufactured, what packaging materials came with it when it was shipped, whose fingerprints are on it, etc. – none of this comes into chemists’ discussions about the experiment. In short, the beaker’s existence and reliability are not drawn into question. In fact, they can’t be. Otherwise, we would be plunged into an infinite regress of epistemological skepticism, where even the skeptic’s arguments become absurd.

Damn… where was I going with all this?!

I may be hearing Heraclitus playing the lyre here, but it seems to me that “oppositeness” is the simplest possible building block of the universe.
— Thales

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

So much yes.

You win all the prizes. This is the right answer. — Treatid

I’m humbled and honored to be named discussion winner. But what is my prize? (I hope it’s the poker Ludwig Wittgenstein brandished at Karl Popper!) :cool:

If we were to create a universe, what are the simplest possible building blocks that we could use? — Treatid

Ideas. — RogueAI

Probably the bit (or qbit), right? 1 or 0, nothing more complex. Presumably, you can say everything about any of the other candidates (except perhaps ideas) with bits. — Count Timothy von Icarus

I think it’s safe to say, that whatever the fundamental substratum is, it doesn’t consist of things. — Wayfarer

I may be hearing Heraclitus playing the lyre here, but it seems to me that “oppositeness” is the simplest possible building block of the universe. In fact, our entire universe and existence are built upon oppositeness.

With oppositeness, there are electrons and protons; negative integers and positive integers; matter and energy; photons and waves; infinity and infinitesimal; vacuum and pressure; apoptosis and paligenosis; black and white; life and death; poetry and prose; work and play; sleep and wakefulness; mountains and beaches; art and commerce; music and cacophony; notes and rests; sterility and fertility; heat and cold; real and imaginary; laughter and tears; fact and fiction; good and evil. (And even “agreement and disagreement,” which is the hallmark of this forum!)

Oppositeness is patently a simple building block. It is easy-to-understand and readily applicable. Objects, processes, states of affairs, feelings – whatever – can all be paired with other objects, processes, states of affairs and feelings of opposing qualities. (See the above list for examples.)

And yet, as simple as oppositeness is, an entire, rich, diverse and wondrous universe can be constructed from it. Life itself is an expression of opposites and even develops from it – e.g., the sperm fertilizes the egg.

So I stake my claim with Heraclitus, who argued that the world could not exist without opposing qualities – like the tension that is created from the opposite ends of the strings on a lyre. It’s as “simple” as that.

If you start with some fairly implausible premises, yes. God exploded and bits of his body have been decaying ever since. — Vera Mont

I like your theistic (deistic?) spin on my thought experiment! :up:

I "just happen" to be among the infinitesimal fraction of matter that became human beings — Dogbert

Generally I think the magnitude of universe should not have an impact of probability of human existence.
What follows for instance is that, the bigger the universe is, there is less and less chance for human existence or existence or life (because it's too small compared to entire universe [or matter]).
— SpaceDweller

If you consider the size of the galaxy, in which there may be 300,000,000 habitable planets, then the number of other galaxies, all the suns and planets they contain, even if only one in a thousand of the potential life-generating planets actually does, life itself is not all that miraculous. — Vera Mont

I say we flip this discussion on its head and, instead of postulating that “life, “human beings” and “consciousness” evolved from non-living matter, we instead say:

All matter and energy in the universe started out as fully evolved life and for the past 15 billion years, it has gradually “devolved” (or shifted) into the proportions we now see – which is a much higher percentage of the universe consisting of non-living “stuff,” and a much lower percentage of the universe consisting of living stuff. And therefore, we can cease being amazed at there being so much of the latter in the universe and such a paucity of the former.

This approach seems to be consistent with the 2nd law of thermodynamics. A system of energy, if left alone, tends toward greater disorganization and more entropy. The evolution of life, on the other hand, with all its macromolecules (eg, proteins), complex biological processes (eg, mitosis), etc., would suggest an increase in organization and less entropy.

Looking at the universe in this way may make more sense. Of course, the wonder of life being here at all can still be a perplexing. In suggesting that we turn the telescope around and look into the other end, I have not solved the riddle of “Why Life?,” but rather looked at it from another perspective. Maybe the answer is to just put down the telescope or, as Wittgenstein wrote, “…throw away the ladder [after climbing up].” :cool:

Isn’t all of this just begging the question? I mean, are we not allowed to challenge the assertion that “necessary existence” is a “positive quality?” Isn’t it possible for necessary existence to be a negative quality? After all, human beings exist, and they are imperfect and mortal; they make mistakes, they sin, etc. So maybe “non-existence” (as opposed to “necessary existence”) is the (more) positive quality.

Consider this: “non-existent” beings don’t age, suffer and die. And because they transcend time and space, non-existent beings aren’t restricted by the laws of physics. In fact, non-existent beings are not adversely affected by anything in the universe – including hatred, discrimination, war, ignorance and greed. Taken one step further, if God exists (or even if only the idea or concept of God exists), then perhaps God (or the concept of God) values non-existence over (necessary) existence. Why does Anselmo or Descartes or Gödel get to decide what God (or the concept of God) values most?

This is what I’ve always found troubling about Pascal’s “Wager.” Pascal argued that belief in God will get you into heaven after you die if God does exist. And yet, Pascal continued, you won’t be worse off by believing in God if God doesn’t exist after all; your death will be met with the same fate whether you believe in God or not. So you might as well believe in God.

But Pascal is assuming (begging the question) that one of God’s characteristics is rewarding believers after death. But what if God rewards those who don’t believe? Maybe God prefers critical thinkers over those who dogmatically follow religious tenets. Why does Pascal’s assumption of “God-rewards-those-who-believe-God-exists” take precedence over someone else’s assumption of “God-rewards-those-who-don’t-believe-God-exists?”

And so it is with any ontological proof of God – whether it be valid or not, sound or not, or well-argued or not. Maybe existence is not the positive quality it’s cracked up to be. (?)

For the hard-core determinist, there's no difference between causes and "actions" performed by "agents". — ssu

You’re exactly right, ssu. And upon reflection, I should really throw in the towel. Because even “hard-core” free willists believe in determinism – albeit self-determinism. I remember when some philosophers grabbed onto the new physics of quantum mechanics to save us from the onslaught of determinism, but that only gave us “indeterminism” – random, uncaused events instead of reasoned, well-considered actions.

There’s just something about determinism that seems odd to me. I keep coming back to asking what it is that determinists are doing when they argue. It seems as if they are trying to convince someone who believes in free will of the strength of their arguments – that a free willist will consider all the evidence and, in the end, choose to believe that determinism makes the most sense. But according to determinism, this is not what determinists are doing.

According to determinism, determinists are not, in fact, trying to convince others of their position when they argue for the merits of determinism. Determinists are compelled to believe what they do because of their own antecedent causes (i.e., physical, chemical, biological, genetic, environmental and social conditions) – just like everyone else. Their arguments are the result of a chain of causes that go back to their births and social environments.

And this just seems odd to me. For some reason, this deterministic explanation for what determinists do when they argue their point doesn’t seem right. They do seem to be reasoning, considering the evidence and trying to convince others of their position. Don't they? And if they are doing these things, doesn’t this belie their deterministic position?

Your post brings a post on another site to mind.
https://kevinswatch.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?p=1098685#p1098685 — Patterner

Thank you, Patterner. I really enjoyed that post by Zarathustra. Great stuff! Maybe I'm in the wrong forum here, and should switch over to science fiction fora. :cool:

Turn it around: can you then point to the event that didn't have any reason or cause to happen? — ssu

Back when I was young and innocent, I read an article by Richard Taylor, a Brown University philosophy professor. Taylor’s view was that some phenomena have “causes” and can be described accordingly, whereas others – namely, “actions” performed by “agents” – are different. “Agents initiate action,” he argued, while causes and effects are links in a long chain which, in principle, can be traced back in time indefinitely.

Consider this description:
Someone’s legs move when there is activation of their muscle spindles, which initiates a series of neural responses that stimulates motor neurons which, in turn, cause muscle tissue to move their legs.

According to Taylor, this description works well to capture how a human organism moves, but it doesn’t explain how a human acts. Specifically, such a purely physiological analysis of someone (an agent) walking to the grocery store (an action) would be inadequate to describe what happens. Why?

Because there is no antecedent chain of cause-and-effects that is relevant to explaining why such a person takes that walk. Instead, he or she had reasons to go shopping, made the decision and walked to the store.

Which reminds me. I’m getting hungry and I need to run to the store myself and grab some grub! :cool:

"Cogito Ergo Sum" - René Descartes ("I think, therefore I am").

This statement signifies that the only thing we can know with certainty is our own existence. The existence of everything else cannot be proven beyond all doubt. — Treatid

Actually, whereas Descartes may have proven “thinking” exists, his leap to proving his own existence is less certain. He argued:

“I will doubt everything I see, hear, smell, touch, taste and think until I come to a place where doubt is not possible. As it turns out, the only thing I can’t doubt in this list is ‘thinking’ because ‘doubt’ is, itself, a form of thinking.”

But just because it was proven that “thinking” exists, it doesn’t necessarily follow that he (Descartes) exists. Thinking does not (logically) imply personal identity.

There are an uncountable number of air molecules in my living room. They are all flying about in various directions, at various speeds. We have nothing resembling the slightest hint of hope of tracking them all. But we can measure the temperature of the room. — Patterner

Thank you for bringing this idea to my attention, Patterner. I really like how a seemingly hopeless situation like uncountable air molecules can – by their motion – actually bear fruit by giving us definitive information… namely temperature. And expanding this idea to “firing neurons” and “thought” is interesting.

For some reason, this brings to my mind the principle of “Operationalism,” which gained some popularity among certain logical positivists in the 1920s-30s. It goes something like this: Scientific concepts that lack direct, empirical evidence can be “saved” by linking them to experimental procedures. “Gravitation,” for example, can not be seen, heard, smelled, tasted or touched, but it can nevertheless be determined “operationally” by observing phenomena such as planetary orbits.

I’m doing this from memory, so I probably botched this explanation! And I’m not saying what you wrote is Operationalism – it just happened to pop in my mind when I read your words. :cool:

That's not what I'm saying. — Relativist

My sincere apologies, Relativist. I was actually using your list of “determining factors” for making a decision as a general description of how determinism explains decision-making. I thought this list was well written. Please know that I was not critiquing your take on determinism, and I am sorry to have confused things. I should have just stuck with some version of my own description, which I mentioned later in my post:

“…antecedent causes (i.e., physical, chemical, biological, genetic, environmental and social conditions)….”

My goal in posting was to express my own thoughts about the determinism-free will debate in general, and not to drill down into the details of your and the other interlocuters’ views. I just wanted to express my overall reaction to determinism. Obviously, I could have done it better.

In reading this discussion, I am struck with the idea that the reason determinism is so compelling is also why it’s so unpersuasive. What is this reason? Determinism explains everything.

It explains why determinists write articles and books defending determinism, as well as why others believe in free will. It explains why one chooses to vacation in Majorca rather than Melbourne, and why individual members of a jazz quartet head off into their own improvisational frontiers during a musical performance. In short, nothing is left unexplained to a determinist because determinism explains it all. Relativist says it well:

The point is simply this: at the point we make a decision, there is a set of determining factors: beliefs, genetic dispositions, environmentally introduced dispositions, one's desires and aversions, the presence or absence of empathy, jealousy, anger, passion, love, and hatred. — Relativist

So there is no convincing, no reasoning, no weighing different alternatives, no initiating action – it’s all billiard ball cause-and-effect.

It’s funny because some may mistakenly argue that a determinist’s writings are so persuasive that those who hitherto believed in free will – upon learning the strength of these deterministic arguments – will consider all the evidence and, in the end, choose to believe that determinism makes the most sense. But they would be wrong.

Determinists are not, in fact, trying to convince others of their position when they argue for the merits of determinism. Determinists are compelled to believe what they do because of their own antecedent causes (i.e., physical, chemical, biological, genetic, environmental and social conditions) – just like everyone else. Their arguments are the result of a chain of causes that go back to their births and social environments.

Determinism, likewise, dictates the beliefs of those who favor free will. Advocates of free will consider a determinist’s arguments and, as a result of their own genetic makeups and social environments, are compelled (determined) to disagree with these arguments.

And so it is with everything else. Determinists would presumably argue that there are no differences between migratory patterns of birds and vacation plans of retirees. Despite the amount of time retirees may spend evaluating their financial situations, weather forecasts, sightseeing interests, etc., their decisions to vacation in one locale rather than another are more akin a bird’s photoperiodic response than reasoning or choosing.

Similarly, what jazz musicians do is more akin to blindly following the dictates of sheet music than inventing new melodies. Why? Because everything is determined.

So here I am at the end of my little diatribe. Was I really determined to write all this? Are the responses I receive (if any) really the result of a similar chain of inevitability? Are there no reasons for supporting what we consider, or argue about, or believe in, or offer evidence for – just a series of cause-and-effects? Is determinism really the ultimate explanation for everything? How can it be so right if it feels so wrong? (Apologies to David Houston and Barbara Mandrell.)

I do not accept 'I think therefore I am'; I do not see how you can assume that thinking necessarily implies a thinker. — Richard Goldstein

I seem to recall Bertrand Russell making the same argument. In proclaiming, "I think, therefore I am," Descartes has snuck "I" in the back door. All he has done with 100% certainty is to demonstrate "thinking" exists -- not "I."

Isn't Frege's distinction between the sense and reference of a singular referring expression (as contrasted with definite descriptions) a good way to express this difference that leads neither to the conflation you are warning about nor to the problems generated by representationalism? — Pierre-Normand

Great analysis and application of Frege. I remember first learning about the Morning Star/Evening Star/Venus when reading about Pythagoras. In discussions such as this, we can "count" on mathematicians! <smile>

If we are to know anything about external objects, then don’t we need to (somehow) have access to that object of knowledge? And to have access, don’t we need a means by which we access it? When we go on a journey by automobile, we need a road to access our destination. So too with knowledge; we need a “road” (or a way) to get it.

Take another example: We solve algebraic problems by adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing. This is the means by which we access – or gain knowledge about – the answer. Note that we do not identify the process of adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing with the answer to the problems – they are merely the means by which we access the answer. Without adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing, we can not have knowledge about (answers to) the problems. They are just the means to obtaining said knowledge.

Is it not similar with sensory perceptions and knowledge about the external world? Aren’t sensory perceptions the means by which we gain access to – and knowledge about – the external world? Surely we should not identify perception of external objects as a direct representation of the objects themselves; nor should we identify perceptions as indirect representations, for that matter. Either one would be akin to conflating process with result; confusing the road with the destination; and identifying addition, subtraction, multiplying and dividing with the solutions of algebraic problems.

In reading this discussion, I’m wondering: Is “anxiety” a condition that strikes only when things are beyond our control? Or is it possible for us to be anxious about something over which we do, in fact, have control?

For example, flying in an airplane can make a passenger anxious because it is the pilot, the airplane’s mechanical integrity, weather, etc. that affect the airplane’s safety – not the passenger. So clearly this is a case where anxiety is the result of (the passenger) being out of control.

But what about being anxious about cooking a meal for someone? Said cook can certainly be anxious that the meal he or she is preparing is worthy of his or her guest. The cook is not worried about the stove exploding, or someone interrupting him or her, or any other outside negative influence. He or she is just anxious about the meal itself – the meal he or she has chosen and planned – all of which he or she controls. This includes what constitutes the meal, which spices to add, how long to cook the food, the presentation and plating, etc.

So although it’s possible to be anxious about things that are beyond one’s control, it seems to be equally possible to be anxious about things that are within one’s control. Lucky for us, anxiety knows no bounds! <smile>

This discussion makes me wonder about something else as well:

Anxiety is often diagnosed and treated as a psychiatric disorder – not a state of ignorance. What I mean is, the reading of stoic philosophers – though enriching and enlightening – may not affect some forms of (psychiatrically diagnosed) anxiety, which are thought to be caused by an imbalance of neurotransmitters. Patients suffering from such forms of anxiety are instead often successfully treated by selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). So perhaps where philosophy and psychiatry meet is the place where we can see the forest and the trees!

I am reminded of Wittenstein’s “Tractatus,” which on the opening page reads:

“The world is the totality of facts, not of things.”

“Facts,” for example, allow for the recognition of interest rates. Interest rates are arguably real while, at the same time, not regarded as physical objects. But neither are interest rates considered mystical, spiritual or immaterial. After all, interest rates directly affect the amount of money that accumulates in bank accounts. Interestingly, physical events such as hurricanes and war can affect interest rates; and so can non-physical situations such as panic and market conditions. It’s perhaps best to say interest rates are facts, not physical (or immaterial) things.

Another example: “Facts” allow for the recognition of relations without the necessity of assigning “physical (or immaterial) existence” to them. “The back door is to the right of the dining room table” describes the relation of two physical objects to each other. Again, “to the right of,” is a relation and not a physical object; and yet it exists in the world. It’s a fact, not a thing.

Now… bring on the tooth fairy, but leave all your married bachelors at home!

Beverley — Beverley

Thank you for your thoughtful response to my post. Although I also appreciate the input given previously by the other responders, you actually went through (most of) my arguments and replied directly to them, rather than opening up whole new streams of thought – which, again, is great and I appreciate being the catalyst for such streams; but also I was genuinely curious about what people thought (specifically) about my arguments. So I’m grateful you took the time to address them, and I look forward to re-reading and cogitating more on what you have written!

In the meantime, you should know that your mention of Descartes brought a smile to my lips and a song in my heart:

In my view, it is impossible to get around the skeptics’ doubt. Descartes thought he had, but he hadn’t. — Beverley

I remember reading the Cogito decades ago and being really moved by “systemic doubt.” Doubt everything you see, hear, smell, touch, taste and think until you come to a place where doubt is not possible:

I can’t doubt that I’m thinking because ‘doubting’ is, itself, a form of thinking.

It was so cool and impactful that it put a dance in my step all the way from the library to my room.

Unfortunately, my Cartesian bubble was eventually burst (I believe by Bertrand Russell) when I learned that even if doubting/thinking is irrefutable, the “I” is not; Descartes had snuck it in through the back door.

So with that, and while it’s still open, I’ll sneak out the door myself! <smile>

Your original post (and subsequent responses) are very compelling to me, Wayfarer. Well done!

And although the unified nature of our experience of this ‘world-picture’ seems simple and even self-evident, neuroscience has yet to understand or explain how the disparate elements of experience , memory, expectation and judgement, all come together to form a unified whole — even though this is plainly what we experience. — Wayfarer

Too many times when science is challenged, it is on the basis that it is inadequate in some way – that religious faith, for example, is needed to shore up the shortcoming of science to explain how the universe works.

But the inability of neuroscience to explain what we all experience in our respective consciousnesses (e.g., perceptions, pain) is not a shortcoming; it’s simply not the domain of neuroscience. Similarly, the fact that gravity does not rake leaves is not a shortcoming of gravity. Leaf-raking is not relevant to the concept of gravitation.

On the other hand, neuroscience does play a role in our conscious experience. As I’ve written in another Forum discussion, I am unable to project my (conscious) feeling of pain onto a screen for you to experience – even though I am able to project an MRI scan of my brain onto a screen, showing you certain neurological biomarkers that correspond to my feeling of pain. Although I can (scientifically) describe and explain my pain, I am unable to provide you with the experience of my pain. So neuroscience plays a role in all this – just not the only role.

Your thought-experiment was brilliant.

One of the thought-experiments I sometimes consider is imagine having the perspective of a mountain (were a mountain to have senses). As the lifespan of a mountain is hundreds of millions of years, you wouldn't even notice humans and animals, as their appearances and dissappearances would be so ephemeral so as to be beneath your threshold of awareness. Rivers, you'd notice, because they'd stay around long enough to actually carve into you. But people and animals would be ephemera. At the other end of the scale, from the perspective of micro-organisms, humans and animals would be like solar systems or entire worlds. — Wayfarer

The blend of imagination, science and philosophy is both thought-provoking and great fun!

I realize this discussion has taken many twists and turns over the past year, but I keep finding myself wondering about (and coming back to) the same thing:

Is it possible that the intention of subjecting consciousness to the rigors of scientific explanation – though noble and understandable – is misplaced? Are we trying to do something that, in fact, cannot be done?

Consider measurement – a most heralded and essential aspect of science:

How much mass does that planetary body have? What is the wavelength of this color? Does the subatomic particle under investigation have a positive, negative or neutral electric charge? How many milliliters of reagent is in that Griffin beaker?

All these questions make (scientific) sense and can be answered by objective, reproduceable measurement. But I’m wondering if we can meaningfully ascribe measurement to “consciousness.” It seems odd to say, “There are 2.5 milliliters of consciousness here,” or “This consciousness weighs 71 grams,” or “That consciousness is negatively charged.”

Isn’t consciousness different (in kind) from what science investigates? Planets, colors, particles, reagents – these are discrete, objective areas of scientific investigation, whereas consciousness is the underlying, subjective medium through which we access all of these areas.

More to the point: consciousness is, by its nature, entirely subjective and therefore can not be observed and measured like brains can be. Each person uniquely experiences the world (subjectively) through his or her own consciousness.

For example, I am unable to project my (conscious) feeling of pain onto a screen for you to experience – even though I am able to project an MRI scan of my brain onto a screen, showing you certain neurological biomarkers that correspond to my feeling of pain. Although I can (scientifically) describe and explain my pain, I am unable to provide you with the experience of my pain.

It is this subjectivity that differentiates consciousness from scientific investigation. In short, neurophysiology is not consciousness because explanation is not experience.

I found myself nodding at Wayfarer’s take on all this above:

“[N]o objective description of brain-states can convey or capture the first-person nature of experience. The kind of detailed physiological understanding of pain that a pharmacologist or anaestheologist has, is not in itself pain. Knowing about pain is not the same as being in pain.”

It’s really the difference between “explanation” and “experience.”

When we see a red apple and ask, “Why and how can this red apple be seen?” – and we want an explanation – then we can expound on all manner of material stuff (physics and neuroscience). That is, “red” is a certain wave length of light, and to see it requires retinal cone photoreceptors, a visual cortex, etc.

But if we ask the same question, “Why and how can this apple be seen?” – and we want an experience – then we must look at the apple and, assuming there is sufficient light and our eyes and brain are functioning normally, then we have a perception of a red apple. And the only way others can have this experience is for them to look at the apple too – where light is sufficient for them, and their eyes and brains are functioning normally.

Most notably: these conscious experiences – the perception of red apples – are private. No amount of explaining them physically and/or neuroscientifically can do them justice. The fact is, explanations of phenomena – no matter how accurate – are not the same as the experiences of these same phenomena. Someone else, although able to have their own visual perceptions, are unable to have mine. Similarly, only they can actually feel their own physical pain, while I can only feel mine. Again, we can explain how these perceptions and feelings occur via physics, neurochemistry and neurophysiology, but knowing about these explanations are not the same thing as having them (to paraphrase Wayfarer above).

And by the way, this is not to imply that there is something mystical going on here, or that consciousness is necessarily some sort of spiritual or immaterial substance. Maybe it's just a fact of biological existence that experience (consciousness) is private, whereas explanations of experience are (or can be) public. (?)

In any event: explanation is not experience.