The shortest and best, imo, proof of certainty was by a philosophy professor. On being asked how he knew the proposition in question was true, he answered,"It had better be." — tim wood

Thanks, I too favor the professor's response. Somehow, it reminded me of the William Carlos Willams poem:

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

Good point! I think of philosophy as a means of orienting myself to knowledge, certainty, truth, the Good. To me, it is not important to get closer to it, but merely to stay pointed at it. I think of knowledge or certainty as I do the North Star. It would be foolish for me to think I can ever reach the North Star--the Pole Star--but it would be wise to orient my life toward it, point myself in its direction, moment by moment--not being concerned or worrying about getting nearer to it, but simply doing the best I can to orient and re-orient myself to it moment by moment, day by day.

And I think associated with these a basic position of doubt, that asks for claims to be justified, even if a true argument from first principles is perhaps impossible. — Echarmion

Does this leave skepticism as the foundational philosophic default?

It seems to me that what is certain is what is established with respect to given criteria. — tim wood

I'm thinking about this but am not sure I understand. Can you say a bit more? Perhaps an example would help.

What would be the point of writing down what is indubitable, except as a jumping off point (like Descartes' cogito)? — SophistiCat

I've been thinking about what you said and it came to mind that, in real life, when someone expresses what they believe to be indubitable, they usually mean it as an ending point, a final conclusion to end conversation or inquiry--not a starting point. As in dogma: religious, scientific, philosophic or otherwise.

Personally, I am doubtful of almost all of it. — A Seagull

I'm wondering if you had something specific in mind when you said "almost all of it". Or, perhaps you were meaning this in a more general way.

Only sophistry (vide Plato's early-middle dialogues, or scholastic & utopian apologias, (all 31 flavors of) 'anti-realism', etc ... e.g. francophone/centric academic p0m0). — 180 Proof

I'm curious about this. Can you say a bit more?

Whitehead's stronger claim; namely that "In philosophical discussion, the merest hint of dogmatic certainty as to finality of statement is an exhibition of folly." — prothero

I agree . . . and how difficult: MY folly too often.

How much of what has been written about philosophy is indubitable? — A Seagull

I wonder if perhaps, after all these years, epistemic defeatism deserves our respect and attention. By epistemic defeat (as I understand it at this point, in this time and in this place) I mean, or think I mean, that in the final analysis (and who's to know if it is or is not), and all things being equal (which they never are), we have no good evidence for the truth of any proposition. I say "perhaps" because I do not know. It appears (to me) that evidence is always conditional, or ignorant of something or other.

I just think back to times long ago, when people lived in small tribes of hunter-gatherers. I imagine that people in those times did not experience suffering of the soul, albeit they would have experienced hardship of the body. I imagine they would not have suffered angst over strictures that they 'should' do this and 'should not' do that. Simpler times for the soul. — A Seagull

Thank you; I appreciate your comments.

I've been thinking about this comment and what you said earlier: “Suffering of the soul is caused by believing lies. The task then of philosophy is to determine a process by which lies can be distinguished from truth.Admittedly no easy task.” And, as I thought about both of your comments, I began to warm to the idea; I began to consider in my mind: What if this were true? What would follow from it? Perhaps there is something deeper here than I first saw? So I think I would like to start a discussion on just this topic. I think it could be fruitful. Would you be OK with that? --Best, Statilius

We have to be careful, though, not to equate philosophy with some kind of therapy. — Xtrix

Yes, I agree, and in so doing reiterate what Martha Nussbaum said: “Like medicine, philosophy to them was a rigorous science aimed both at understanding and at producing the flourishing of human life.”

It seems to me that, like medicine, philosophy (at its best) is “a rigorous science”, and, like medicine, a practice that aims at “producing the flourishing of human life.”

I would add that, just as medicine has many roles, many ways to practice -- GPs, surgeons, researchers, etc. -- so does philosophy. Thanks much. I appreciate it.

Suffering of the soul is caused by believing lies. The task then of philosophy is to determine a process by which lies can be distinguished from truth. Admittedly no easy task. — A Seagull

Yes, indeed, no easy task! And not only for philosophy: Nearly all great literature grapples with the suffering of the human soul: Dostoevsky, Camus, Aeschylus, Sophocles, Shakespeare, Tolstoy.

Music, too, in very profound ways: J. S. Bach, Mahler, Beethoven, Shostakovitch, Gorecki, et al.

And the visual arts so powerfully: Munch, Picasso, Cimabue, Van Gogh, Kahlo, Grünewald, Goya.

Though many of these works may deal directly with believing lies, it strikes me that the cause(s) of human suffering may not be fully and adequately incorporated in the narrow concept of 'believing lies.'

philosophy is useless if it does not remove suffering from the soul. — Statilius

Thanks much for your kind remarks. I appreciate it.

Today was an exquisite spring day, with a cheerful sun and gentle caressing breeze--with irises, tulips, sweet woodruff and poppies all coming into bloom--such a tonic for the soul. When I re-read the fragment from Epicurus (above) I was so moved once again. I just sat for a few moments looking out onto the meadow, just quietly looking, with a sad and tender heart, and a deep feeling for all of us, all across this planet filled with longing and distress. If nothing else, let my philosophy help remove the suffering of the world. Let this be its central aspiration:

May all beings everywhere
Plagued by sufferings of body and mind
Obtain an ocean of happiness and joy. - Santideva

Thanks again for your kind remarks. I wish you well. --Stabilius

I'm still not sure what you mean by a "kind of medicine." — Xtrix

Regarding “philosophy as medicine”, Martha Nussbaum speaks of this in her book, “Therapy of Desire.” The publisher's book blurb says: “The Epicureans, Skeptics, and Stoics practiced philosophy not as a detached intellectual discipline, but as a worldly art of grappling with issues of daily and urgent human significance: the fear of death, love and sexuality, anger and aggression. Like medicine, philosophy to them was a rigorous science aimed both at understanding and at producing the flourishing of human life.”

On page 21 of the book, she says, “The idea of a practical and compassionate philosophy—a philosophy that exists for the sake of human beings, in order to address their deepest needs, confront their most urgent perplexities, and bring them from misery to some greater measure of flourishing—this idea makes the study of Hellenistic ethics riveting for a philosopher who wonders what philosophy has to do with the world.

It is perhaps expressed best by Epicurus in Fragment 221:

“A philosopher's words are empty if they do not heal the suffering of mankind. For just as medicine is useless if it does not remove sickness from the body, so philosophy is useless if it does not remove suffering from the soul.”

And, again by Seneca in Epistle XX,2:

“Philosophy teaches us to act, not to speak; it exacts of every man that he should live according to his own standards, that his life should not be out of harmony with his words, and that, further, his inner life should be of one hue and not out of harmony with all his activities. This, I say, is the highest duty and the highest proof of wisdom, – that deed and word should be in accord, that a man should be equal to himself under all conditions, and always the same.”

I hope this is helpful. Thank you for your question. I appreciate it. -- Stabilius

However much moral worth animals may have, what is the ethical justification for animal sacrifice when one knows one has a choice not to sacrifice them. When is it ethically justifiable to sacrifice another being when it is done merely for one's own personal pleasure? Is it our moral duty to minimize sacrifice in every corner of our lives whenever it is possible to do so, knowing all the while that it is impossible to eliminate it altogether?

A Night Without Brambles

Imagination is a night without brambles,
a conflagration of antecedents, trouble
before its time, shudders, apples, dripping
water, impossible undertakings, simple
arguments about parrots, and no place to go.

My question is: What just happened? Where did this come from?

Philosophy is the theoretical conceptual interpretation — Xtrix

I'm thinking of philosophy first and foremost as an activity, one of many types of human inquiry. Rather than "an interpretation," I see philosophy is a way of arriving at an interpretation.

I really did mean 'creditable' rather than 'credible'. 'Credible' suggests something “capable of being believed.” It could be just this side of not credible: believable, yes, but. . . . oh, my! Whereas, 'creditable', in the way I mean it, suggests something much more robust, something “worthy of belief,” “something sufficiently good to bring reputation or esteem, deserving of judicious praise,” as Merriam-Webster would have it.

I have intentionally avoided the word 'truth' for something more modest and, for me, more precise in terms of our demonstrated human capabilities. Perhaps something less hubristic.

By “therapeutically satisfying way of life” I meant to distinguish between philosophy as it is practiced in academia today, and, for example, that of the Hellenistic philosophers for whom philosophizing was a kind of medicine. I was thinking of the distinction made by Pierre Hadot, in which philosophy “is essentially a dialogue, a living relationship between people rather than an abstract relation of ideas (Hadot, The Present is Our Only Happiness, p.55).”

Animal Sacrifice & Universal Care

My 'conversion' to a plant-based diet occurred many years ago and was ethically based. It came about by way of the simple recognition and acknowledgment that, while many animals cannot live without eating other animals, human beings can. For us, eating animals is a choice—neither our health nor our well-being depend on us eating meat or dairy; in fact, for optimum health, research strongly supports a plant-based diet. Of course, there are people in some isolated geographic areas who may need to eat meat or dairy, but it can nearly always be avoided.

When I contemplated this fact along with my life-long commitment to kindness and care for all beings (and things), I was 'done in'. I was ethically and rationally cornered: How could I possibly sacrifice an animal's life when I knew for certain it was merely a personal choice based on my tastes, customs, habitual patterns, and/or pleasure?

I had to ask myself why I would sacrifice any life, anywhere, at any time, merely for my own pleasure? I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that from now until I die, I can thrive in robust health without eating meat or dairy. There is no question of this; I've done it for many years. I realize I cannot live on earth without sacrificing life, but, ethically, I must do all I can to minimize, rather than justify, that sacrifice.

I am very grateful to Stephen David Ross. For I was prompted to this way of life in consequence of reading his “Plenishment in the Earth: An Ethic of Inclusion.” In Chapter 7, Carnaval, he briefly discusses the Eden story and includes the following lines from Alexander Pope's “Essay on Man” (3, 4:152-164):

Man walk'd with beast, joint tenant of the shade;
The same table, and the same his bed;
Nor murder cloath'd him, and no murder fed.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Heav'n's attribute was Universal Care,
And Man's prerogative to rule, but spare.
Ah! how unlike the man of times to come!
Of half that live the butcher and the tomb;
Who, foe to Nature, hears the gen'ral groan,
Murders their species, and betrays his own.

Yes, Good. Thanks much for sending the link. I will follow it up.

What is Philosophy?

Of the many types of human inquiry, philosophy is inquiry by means of rigorous reasoning in the pursuit and formation of creditable beliefs. As such, it is not bound to any specific field, concern or interest. Many, if not every, cosmic dimension and question can be approached by way of philosophy: religion, science, literature, farming, cinema, education, politics, cooking, etc. Philosophy is one of many tools humans employ to render the world and their experience more intelligible. While, for some, philosophy is strictly a theoretical enterprise, for others it is a therapeutically satisfying way of life.

I prefer to think of it as the gift of the good, rather than God, particularly because the term “God” is so heavily baggaged. In this I have been inspired for many years by Plato and others, but especially Stephen David Ross when he says: “I speak of the good in memory of Plato, but where the good provides no measure. I speak of the good beyond measure rather than instrumentality or teleology, good and bad. . . .The gift is given by no one or thing, circulates everywhere, in every place, a giving without a giver, without a receiver, given everywhere. In a sense, it is impossible to speak of the good, impossible to fix its limits (“The Gift of Beauty: The Good as Art”, p.2.” I have no problem when Rumi or Hafiz use the term 'God', or Santideva.

Works of art that intentionally set out to teach or instruct, rarely, if ever, rise to the level of non-utilitarian works of art.

It is very possible to express joy and happiness with and in one's children without instilling pride, in them or in oneself: they are not your children; they are a gift. Why not instill THAT? It is just as easy to say: “This must make you very happy” or “This makes me feel so very happy,” as it is to say “This should make you very proud.” You may have beautiful hair, but it is not your hair: it, too, is a gift. You are not the doer. Rejoice and be glad—only. The rest is ego noise.

As with (my) poem: I had no idea our conversation would take on the shape it has. Thank you!

Warm regards, Statilius

Thank you for your comments; I appreciate them.

The poem's title came to me in the same way the body of the text came to me: it was not premeditated. In some instances, and consistently with some poets, the title may be seen as part of the body of the poem, and thus of equal importance.

On the blessedness of the artist, we differ. And I appreciate the difference.

The Goethe quote was found in Andrey Tarkovsky's "Sculpting in Time (p.47)." You might enjoy this book; it has made a significant impact on my understanding of all the arts, and especially, of course, my own. I agree with Tarkovsky when he says, "I believe that sensitivity to art is given at birth, and depends subsequently on his spiritual growth (p.172)." I see all art/life as a gift--it is not my doing. It is something I can be happy about but not proud of. I owe much to Tarkovsky. Once again, thank you much for your thoughts and questions. --Statilius

I do not. Thank you for asking.

Poetry works in emotionally infectious images, irreducible and complete in themselves. These images are not one-sided, nor are they cognitively circumscribable. They rise above the limitations of reason and pure cognition into the sphere of dream and incantation, dreams and incantatory refulgence. As Andrey Tarkovsky says, “It unites within itself dialectically contradictory phenomena.”

I compose very spontaneously; the images flow into the poems like mountain streams, arising from I know not where. There is little deliberation except in the later stages when I am concerned with form and continuity. I do not enter the ocean deliberately; the ocean calls, attracts, pulls: I consent, and am swallowed up.I consent to being swallowed up.

Gogol said, “My job is to speak in living images, not arguments. I must exhibit life full-face, not discuss life.” The poet is not imposing his thoughts on his audience. Poetry does not teach. It has only the capacity, says Tarkovsky again, to “make the human soul more receptive to good”. It opens the soul. The poet is, to an extent, out of her mind. Goethe said “the less accessible a work is to the intellect, the greater it is.” Good poetry is able to generate an infinite number of associations; it is inexhaustible and unlimited in meaning. Even the poet does not know, cannot know, and is blessedly exempt from needing to know or explain, its multitude of meanings, its reverberations, its hints and intimations, its many faces and depths; that is for others to do. Vyacheslav Ivanov said, “Symbols cannot be stated or explained, and, confronted by their secret meaning in its totality, we are powerless.” In everything but the creative act, the poet is weak and powerless. She is a servant to “the whole face of the universe (Spinoza).”

The only thing the poet can hope for is that her audience will respond, enter into the same in-spiration/consciousness that gave rise to the poem, as fruit grows within one, as when we recognize ourselves and stand silent as

the bruised foot, the ringing sound of iron and truth,
like wolves howling at timberline, at daybreak,
where darkness and light divide—last call
for the fall, last call for second-order beliefs,

Thank you, Statilius

Just let it reverberate in you. If there was a single explanation it would not be poetry. If a poet could say it differently, he/she would do so. A poem is a whole world, enter it as you would the ocean. Let it surround you, let it reverberate in you. As with any good art, a poem should plow and harrow the soul. And there is no explanation for that.

Precisely.

This is an area I am very uncertain about. I would like to work toward a better understanding of it. I think your point is well taken; it is very difficult. I wonder if Antonio Damasio's book "Looking for Spinoza: Joy, Sorrow, and the Feeling Brain" would be helpful (if I understand your question and frustration). Perhaps this is something I will look into. Maybe you are already familiar with it. If so, you could advise me whether or not to explore it. Best wishes, Statilius

By 'two tools' do you mean the two attributes or the two kinds of knowledge, reason and intuition?

How To Write the Word 'Knowledge'

First, stay put long enough to feel
what part of speech you are,
what fine lines appear along the edges
of your eyes: Si, ma pourquoi?

In the field extending lazily along the sea,
just there, beyond the hollow reeds where
thick mist is lifting, eschew
that gray Gallic shrug that shakes

and skews the child's rebellious hands,
rides the wake of ducks and geese, a sacred
incantation skimming the edge
of our measureless and outrageous days,

out of lost skies and dreams, out of the pure
moisture of spring grass, where are you now
my lost don, my executioner, my acrobat
from heaven, my infirm one: where are you now?

Falling, falling, he gives his consent; cliffs
and brambles, he does not grasp,
watches them pass by as in a dream
falling as silent as snow, as silent
as the flight of the great grey.

An occasional wild boar snorts along
the horizon of right angles and light, scrub of pine,
juniper and sage, rooted in dark generations of toil
and torn knees, old gates and disasters,

fish leaping to the mayfly, leaping (we think we know)
to the mayfly. Clowns collect drifting litter hoisted
heavenward, hellish hooks as in tired old stories
demanding 'Yes or No?' The forge, the fire,

the bruised foot, the ringing sound of iron and truth,
like wolves howling at timberline, at daybreak,
where darkness and light divide—last call
for the fall, last call for second-order beliefs,

last call for the stout and unverifiable
building blocks of time. You who can write the word,
bring us the great steed, the ox-headed one, bring
us the one who can (almost) turn him toward the sun.

May 14, 2020 -- Statilius

Last call for entries; I'll be writing the poem over the next few days. -- Stabilius

It's your own logic you're not following, which has nothing to do not with mine or Spinoza's. "Everything that exists is the substance ..." is not what Spinoza says; rather everything that exists is caused to exist by substance (i.e. just as every wave is not the ocean but is caused by (currents in) the ocean). — 180 Proof

The following brief quotes from an article that appeared in the latest issue of The Times Literary Supplement may go some distance in almost clarifying this issue. It is written by Clare Carlisle and Yitzhak Y. Melamed:

Spinoza: “That all things are in God and move in God, I affirm with Paul, and … with all the ancient Hebrews, as far as we can conjecture from certain traditions, corrupted as they have been in many ways”

"He also argues that everything else that exists is a “mode” (or modification) of substance, and thus constitutionally and asymmetrically dependent on God. Substance is in se, “in itself” and caused by itself; modes are in alio, “in another”. Spinoza’s concepts of substance and mode lay the ground for his claim, a few pages into the Ethics, that “Whatever is, is in God”."

[My note: The critical word here is 'in'.]

“Despite many readings of the Ethics which make the phrase Deus sive Natura a cornerstone of Spinoza’s metaphysical system, to say that everything, including the world as a whole, is in God – a position now labelled “panentheism” – is quite different from claiming that the world is God, the view usually known as “pantheism”. Spinoza’s panentheism leaves room for the idea that God exceeds, or transcends, the sum total of all things (or “modes”). The God of the Ethics certainly transcends what we normally call “nature”. This is inseparable from the fact that Spinoza’s God transcends human knowledge and experience. God’s essence is expressed through an infinity of attributes (or distinct ways of being), and we have access to just two of these attributes: thought and extension.”

https://www.the-tls.co.uk/articles/god-intoxicated-man-spinoza-philosophy-essay/

"Falling, falling, he gives his consent." — Statilius

Now is that a gerund or what ? — Amity

I may be wrong, but I think it's an active present participle; at least, that is what I intended. What do you think? Maybe I'm wrong. 'Falling' is an adjective modifying the subject 'he'.

I think it is more of a divertimento if people can try and guess the part of speech. I am looking forward to your poem... — Amity

I agree, and did not see this when I had the idea. Thank you.

The first rule of a game is 'You go first !'
So let's be havin' ya'.
Then at least you will have a 3-line poem — Amity

Though it's too late to go first, I will now. My original thought was that I should perhaps hold back so as not to bias or influence the various responses. But given the paucity of responses, I will take your advice. Besides, I like your pluck.

"Falling, falling, he gives his consent."

Thank you. There has not been very much response to this idea, so I'll just let it ride on the waves for a while. Best wishes to you, Statilius

Thank you. What part of speech are you?

Though such experience cannot always be expressed, at times poetry has the power to break open an illumined space:

The Far End of the Garden

at the far end of the garden
I kneel and weep for the world -
in the simple shelter of tall beans,
old fence, fragrant dill, and
sweeping asparagus fronds,
it is there that I weep for the world
in the silence of morning light.

it is the ecstatic summer.
it is the song and the reconciliation.
it is the ripened fruit.
it is the rain, the earth, and the impossible sky.

(at the far end of the garden,
I am born, grow old, and die.)

it is the sweet clover and the mint,
it is the beetle and the syrphid fly,
it is the borage blue and the burning bush.
it is the ecstatic summer.

like one who has finished his work
and knows so for certain,
I examine a tattered leaf.
spontaneously present,
without fear or expectations,
I study the movements of a worm.

Statilius

Thanks, just trying to help out. Tuck it away; maybe someday . . . . a bell will ring (or not). Best wishes to you, Statilius.

Thank you! I will mark well your warning. All the best to you, Statilius

Thanks much for your remarks; they are very helpful.

The following may have some bearing on these difficult and ambiguous questions:

Ethics IIp45: Each idea of each body, or of each particular thing that actually exists, necessarily involves an eternal and infinite essence of God. The idea of a particular thing x that actually exists necessarily involves both the essence of x and its existence (by corollary to 8). But particular things (by I15) can’t be conceived without God; indeed, (by 6) the idea of x has for a cause God-considered-as-A where A is the attribute under which x is a mode; so the idea of x must involve the concept of A (by IA4), that is (by ID6), must involve an eternal and infinite essence of God. ·E.g. your mind involves thought and your body involves extension; each of those is an attribute, and thus an eternal and infinite essence of God·. Note on 45: By ‘existence’ here I don’t mean duration, that is, existence conceived abstractly as a certain sort of quantity (·‘How long will it exist?’·). Rather, I am speaking of the very nature of existence, which is attributed to particular things because infinitely many things follow from the eternal necessity of God’s nature in infinitely many ways (see I16)—the very existence of particular things insofar as they are in God. For even if each one is caused by another particular thing to exist in a certain way, still the force by which each one stays in existence follows from the eternal necessity of God’s nature. Concerning this, see the corollary to I24

and from the Short Treatise:

Turning now to universal Natura naturata, or those modes or creatures which immediately depend on, or have been created by God . . . we say, then, that these have been created from all eternity and will remain to all eternity, immutable, a work as great as the greatness of the workman. (KV I.ix ; G i. 48/3-9)

And again, from the Ethics, II,p11c: "From this it follows that the human mind is a part of the infinite intellect of God."

Thanks again. Your remarks were very helpful. Best wishes, Statilius

Yes, I understand. But what I like about this idea, and what interested me most, was that it pushes very hard on reality as we most often apprehend it, pushes all the way, as it were, forcing me to ask what this means for our world if this is true? I like it's radicalness, and what that radicalness may imply. If forces upon me a kind of creativity I search for in my life. So, I want to set this thought in front of me as a real possibility, to keep it, as Galen Strawson says, as something that bothers me, as a "conscious, overt bother."