But it is not a request; not because of the lack of something (magic, intention), but just that birds can’t meet the requirement of asking something of another
— Antony Nickles

The parrot might have an intent to elicit a peanut, so yes, that seems right. Those requirements are the "form of life", presumably? Good stuff, although I don't follow the overall argument. — Banno

To address any metaphysical sense, the bird (or anyone) would not have an “intent”, and because it is a bird, it would not intend (in the sense of deliberately decide), but we could ask (it is part of the grammar of intention) whether the bird was asking for a cracker because it was hungry, in other words, whether it wanted a cracker, and the owner might know its behavior well enough to tell when it was hungry and when it is merely saying it, or saying it, maybe, to get attention.

The practice of requesting is different than a demand (which is more what the bird is doing) because it implies that I understand I am asking a favor, that my desires are contingent on you, that I should couch my request in order not to meet the possibility of denial, that I have no authority over your actions, that I can suggest reasons (an emotional pitch, say from a dog, is begging). All of this is philosophical evidence of the difference between the bird and the human that is more than what is normally reduced to the physical differences of animals and humans, e.g., they don’t use language, they aren’t self-conscious, etc. All of that is to say that there are more ways that the world works than: intending actions or referring to objects.

I agree that the exclamation "ouch!" is not a name for the pain inside us, but rather, is the name for an observable pain-behaviour that has been caused by something inside us. — RussellA

Again, Ouch! is not a name for a thing (an object—“something inside us”), it is an expression of my being in pain (an externalization). (This is not to say that we cannot “name our pain”—a headache—but this doesn’t work as a referent to an object but also as an expression to others (though including myself, as other to my repressed self). As Witt says, “In so far as it makes sense to say that my pain is the same as his, it is also possible for us both to have the same pain.” But here it is the saying and the establishment of recognition that matter). And to say pain is “caused by something inside us” is just a physiological fact (firing neurotransmitters, yada yada) that is philosophically unimportant and confusing because it appears to bring up issues of causation and determinism, etc. when what we care about (what matters as evidenced by its workings, its criteria) when we talk about our pain (or don’t care about it) is the person.

Wittgenstein refers to the difference between pain and pain-behaviour:
PI 281 - "But doesn't what you say come to this: that there is no pain, for example, without pain-behaviour?" — RussellA

It is the interlocutor (not Wittgenstein) that is asking a question based on their desire to separate pain and the expression of pain (see #245). They are trying to force Wittgenstein into admitting a behavioral conclusion that without expression there is no pain. Keep in mind, the example here of pain is used for its unmistakability, but it is analogous for the other in their entirety. To keep the pain theirs (as in unique) is to want to keep the picture that they are innately individual, to have certainty of themselves, and the desire to be unknowable to others (or to be fully known in “knowing” and communicating what they take as a definite personal object, “my pain”). But the way pain works is not in my knowing my pain, it is in my having my pain (#246) which the next line says is part of being human—that what is important to us about pain is ordinarily not mine different than yours**, but me separate from you (that it is me that is in pain), and that bridging that gap is not a matter of knowledge of your individual pain, but my reacting to you having pain, your being in pain.

(You seem to be misreading this I believe because you are trying to force as essential the physical nature of pain and are taking this out of context and possibly without understanding the role of the interlocutor (the second voice Wittgenstein uses to speak the assumptions of traditional philosophy). It might help to realize that Wittgenstein is asking questions to get you to reflect on your assumptions and desires; and so you should spend the time to really try to find an answer that reveals something revelatory (say, in #278 & 280)).

And the word is not a replacement for a “picture” (whatever we would imagine when we hear it I suppose you to mean); it is a replacement for the wordless expression, the wince, the cry, the clear attempt at repression, etc.
— Antony Nickles

An Indirect Realist would say that the word is a replacement for a picture of the wince or cry. A Direct Realist would say that the word is a replacement for the wince or cry. — RussellA

Wittgenstein is trying to get us to see that both of those misunderstand how we handle pain, what is important to us about it. His point is that the word (a description, etc.) are expressions, just like a cry is an expression, different entirely from a referent to an object (“reality”).

This way of looking at pain as word-object is created to avoid the real way pain matters between me and to you (how it works)—that it is I that is in pain (I am the one; I don’t know pain, I have it) and you either acknowledge me (say, come to my aid) or ignore me, reject me (say I’m faking).
— Antony Nickles

Yes, how does an observer know whether someone is exhibiting pain-behaviour, that they are actually in pain. An actor on the stage may exhibit pain-behaviour without actually experiencing pain.PI 304 - "But you will surely admit that there is a difference between pain-behaviour accompanied by pain and pain-behaviour without any pain?"—Admit it. — RussellA

Of course we can exhibit pain behavior and not be in pain. That is the uncertainty of the other that makes us want to circumvent them through just having knowledge (certainty) of them; it’s also why we want to know ourselves—have it be impossible not to be known to ourselves—because we can be in pain and not be aware of it at all (suppression being the opposite of expression). But as Wittgenstein points out, the way our lives work, we don’t know another’s pain. “If I see someone writhing in pain with evident cause I do not think: all the same, his feelings are hidden from me.” P. 225. We react to them (or ignore them), accept or reject them (even because of faking it).

**And of course I have personal experiences (alone seeing a unique sunset) and sensations, but the points Wittgenstein makes are that our language and ability to express ourselves have a shared depth and so possibility of reaching all the way into each other, across the panic from our separation; that we have a fantasy that we can’t fail to know ourselves, a desire to be unknowable to others, and a (rightful) fear that there is nothing more to us than anyone else.

Ok. I'm not sure how that relates [that meaning is not internal], but it all sounds good — frank

Well, one point is we do not need intention; that it is only an issue when something is unexpected (not incorrect nor not the norm), and intention is judged differently, comes into play in other ways (there are other reasons for explaining what was intended).

communication requires more than just using words and sentences correctly. We need intention. — frank

The presumption of “intention” comes from expectations that go along with situations. It is not a constant state of something like deciding or “meaning” that we do. We ask about intention when something unexpected happens: “Did you intend to snub them or were you oblivious?” And this is not asking if you had chosen to be rude (though you can), but to now differentiate. So we “need" implications and consequences and expectations and criteria for judging when something is the case or not, etc., and these are all here before anything is said. This is how motive can be inferred from circumstances, which is not guessing at something going on in another’s head.

So just form of life. That's as good an answer as any. — frank

Well, what I am saying is not an “answer”, nor is it one of any, say, foundations, or however “form of life” is thought to play a part. Our relation to the other (their pain) is a fact of the human condition. We (philosophy, historically) want to turn the other into an intellectual problem, a lack of certainty, but the other is just separate from us, and knowledge is not our only relation to the world (and others). We want the other (their pain, for example) to be an object of knowledge to avoid responding to the fact of: them; that we cannot be sure (they are really in pain), that we commit ourselves in relation to the claim of their pain on us, etc. That is how pain works; that is its significance and manner. The picture of “form of life” is only meant to say there is more than one way the world works; more than objects and knowledge, for example. It is not one more justification of a theoretical solution to the truth of our blindness to and possible refusal of the other.

What do humans have that birds don't have, which allows them to "acknowledge the debt of it."? — frank

We have the practices of obligation, asking a favor, duty, betrayal, insincerity, etc. which come into play between triggering a response and making a request; the differentiation between them is, we could say, part of the difference between an animal and a human.

Ouch!" is an exclamation… an exclamation is a noun: — RussellA

It is the exclamation itself that is a noun, as an event, not as a name for (referent for) “the pain” (some object inside us). And the word is not a replacement for a “picture” (whatever we would imagine when we hear it I suppose you to mean); it is a replacement for the wordless expression, the wince, the cry, the clear attempt at repression, etc.

This way of looking at pain as word-object is created to avoid the real way pain matters between me and to you (how it works)—that it is I that is in pain (I am the one; I don’t know pain, I have it) and you either acknowledge me (say, come to my aid) or ignore me, reject me (say I’m faking). The theoretical approach to other minds (of which pain is just an example) is to attempt to get around the opacity of the other, the truth that I may not know because I cannot be certain of the other.

If someone can see me, they see a picture of me wincing. If someone cannot see me, and hear me say "ouch!", they can replace the word "ouch!" by a picture of me wincing, ie, the word "ouch!" names the picture of me wincing.

The word "ouch!" names a picture, and a picture is a noun. Therefore, in the sentence "Ouch!", the word "ouch!" is being used as a noun. — RussellA

“Ouch” is not a name, it is an expression; not like a saying, but like the opposite of being stone-faced. And so wincing is also an expression of pain (they mean the same to us, as in: they have the same implications). Not “a pain” like if you turned the hurt into an object (or a pulse of neurons). Your expression of pain is a release, like a good cry, or it is (to me) a cry for help, a claim on my compassion. These are the ordinary terms upon which we handle pain, what matters about it to us. The desire to name the pain is a desire to be certain of my humanity while avoiding me as a human. To take “what I mean” as an independent thing rather than an obligation to become intelligible to each other.

If someone were to use a given word appropriately in every case, on what grounds could you claim: "Yes, but they do not know what it means."
— Banno

On what grounds would you say they do know what it means? — frank

Ask yourself: what makes it possible, what has to be the case, what would we judge as necessary or sufficient in order to claim that you know what you are saying? The answer are the criteria that matter to us (what is meaningful in this case). To say you know what is meaningful in having said something is to be aware and cognizant of, or at least experienced with, the consequences you are getting yourself into, the implications that can be drawn, what else might have been said in this situation (a threat rather than an apology), etc. Take the case where we would say “They don’t know what they are saying.” The person’s words need not be “incorrect”, nor “misused”.

So a computer or parrot always uses the word correctly without knowing what the word means. I guess that makes me wonder what the special human magic is that renders them knowing. Hmm. — frank

“Meaning” is not attached to words (other than naming, in a sense) to be used (as in operated) “correctly”. There are concepts (activities) like naming and regurgitating, synthesizing, paraphrasing, arguing, supporting, etc. And there are “uses” of those concepts: sometimes different senses, like knowing has; and sometimes just in different situations. What determines what use, is whether and how the criteria of that particular use are ordinarily met in a particular context, even something that is or can be two things at once, like a request that is also a joke. We do not make these things happen (with exceptions), we judge them to be the case.

A parrot saying “Polly wants a cracker” knows how to get a cracker, which is knowledge in the sense of (in its use as) knowing how something works, and it might even mean (as in correspond with, name) that the bird is hungry (even that it is an expression of its desire). But it is not a request; not because of the lack of something (magic, intention), but just that birds can’t meet the requirement of asking something of another (though the concept stretches when we look at some of their dances) because they cannot acknowledge (or ignore) the debt of it. And a parrot having said that also fits into the category of humor, but we wouldn’t say the bird is joking because part of humor is the self-knowledge of the implications and consequences of saying something across form or in the wrong context, which awareness and reflection etc. are only possible in humans (expected of), which is also part of how and why a request coming from a bird is funny. A person can also be unaware though, but then it is foolish, or unwitting; so nonetheless funny, only in a different sense (use).

The interesting case might be, say, ChatGPT, which apparently uses words correctly just on the basis of a large scale statistical analysis. And yes, I am incline to say that ChatGPT does not participate in the world to the degree requisite to say that it understands the words it uses. It lacks the "magic" if you like. — Banno

So if we take away the picture of words being necessarily (always) “used”, as in manipulated or ordered or operated or intended, and so also throw away the measure of “correct”, than we can judge that or whether a computer is copying, quoting, regurgitating, synthesizing, paraphrasing, arguing, supporting, failing, mistaking, etc., which is a richer tapestry and with hope of more interest than just whether a machine is “human”. That ChatGPT is not “participating in the world” is true in the sense that we do not judge it as we would judge a human (the consequences of the plagarism transfer to its user). The words cannot mean what they do to us (even if said correctly) because a computer is not (nor a parrot) responsible for what it says. If a human is unable to face the fallout of their actions, they do not “understand” what they are saying (“the words they use”) because they are ignorant (a child), naive, a buffoon, etc.

A=I think
B=I believe

In the sense of a guess or hypothesis, I think and I believe are the same. “I think it is raining.” is interchangeable with “I believe it is raining.” In either instance, we go outside and confirm if it is raining or not—they are both a claim of knowledge.

But “I think you are mistaken” is in the sense of a claim to a judgment, while “I believe in God” is an expression of faith or an attitude or a duty. In any event, there are uses in which they are not interchangeable.

[ Your assessment that apologizing is the right thing to do is false ] is an unusual phrasing, but isn't it clear enough? "That's not true" would be a happier wording. — Banno

But “phrasing” and “clarity” do not take seriously a claim about the workings of our concepts (like belief, or apologizing). The method of looking at what we say when something is the case is to make explicit the implications of our acts—that our phrases are evidence (philosophical data) of the way the world works. “That’s false” sounds forced in this case (is “unhappy”) because it is an attempt to impose the criteria for truth onto a concept that has its own rationale. True or false just do not apply in a case of right and wrong in a moral sense (or correct or felicitous); in this case, the criteria of when an apology applies or is warranted, etc. The point being that the concept of believing has different senses (uses) which employ different criteria, not all of which are truth.

I find myself here somewhat at odds with Wittgenstein, and leaning towards Davidson. — Banno

I only have a passing familiarity with Davidson, but, if my understanding is correct, the structure of a separate discussion of the workings of a concept are similar to both. Wittgenstein would call it the grammar of the criteria of a concept where Davidson’s talks of a meta-discussion of an object-language. If this is a similarity, where is the space between them?

I find myself wondering why "The right thing to do is apologise" should not have a truth-value…

"The right thing to do is apologize", claimed Antony
"That's true", replied Banno. — Banno

Well if you said “I agree” it might mean you intend to apologize. If you say “You’re right” it maybe means you are giving your assent to my analysis of the situation. And you could say “That is right” if you were teaching me about apologizing. If we look at saying, as Austin might, “That is false”, it is unclear what the implications would be (but something is amiss). This problem is not the same as a math problem or a fact (we can’t look it up). We can argue about what should be done, but neither of us has any inherent claim to what is right, and, as well, we may not reach a point where we agree, and so what is at stake is more than what is right, it is also our relationship, our community; I may shun you for refusing to acknowledge or do what I see as correct. In fact, you might say “That is true” if you agree that it is the right thing to do but you aren’t going to do it and don’t what to offend me.

p.s. Even though this situation does not value certainty, we nevertheless have a way of discussing what would matter in deciding what the right thing to do is. Does it matter if you feel remorseless? Do you intend to keep the relationship or is it more important to hold to the action or words that hurt the other? Can you fulfill the expectation of a promise to act differently?

A belief is a relation between an individual and a proposition. That there is much more to be said about belief is not in contention; this is just a place to start. This is set as a falsifiable proposition. — Banno

Let’s continue on then to see if there are different senses of belief. Provisionally (subject to assent), there at least appear to be different kinds of propositions to believe in. A proposition that can be false is, yes, an assertion that the proposition is true. And here is there actually a difference between the belief that an assertion is true, and an assertion being true? Are not “I believe the earth is flat” and “The earth is flat” both assertions? We might say one is me making a claim (say, not on behalf of you) and the other is a claim for a larger group (everyone?), but then, as you note, why stake an individual claim to a fact?

Maybe at times I am not asserting that the proposition is true, but I am predicting that something might be true (hypothesizing, Wittgenstein says, p. 162 3rd). If I believe it is raining (per Moore), then, when it is not, it is more than that my claim is false, I am said to be wrong (or correct). And we can now understand “I believe the earth is flat” as a prediction, though it makes more sense in examples such as: “I believe Mount McKinley is the capital of Vermont” or I believe 134x23=3082, in which cases we can look it up and find out—not if the assertion is true (though we do just that), but whether I was right or wrong, in the sense of guessing.

But we also propose to believe some things that cannot be looked up. “(I believe) The right thing to do is apologize.” Now the personal claim of belief makes more sense here. The proposition is not true or false, nor can we be “wrong” about this proposition; or, only in so much as misguided, foolish, appeasing, etc. depending on the claim and the situation. We can be said to stand for its truth, prepared to defend it, make ourselves intelligible, give reasons in favor, die before renouncing, etc. I believe this would be, as Wittgenstein puts it, a “tone” of belief, as conviction (#187)—though we need not be “convinced” to make a personal claim (as if it were necessarily rational; that it must be to be part of this category, this sense of belief). And maybe this is the same sense of belief as “I believe in God”, and here we may substitute for God: in the power of absolution, or in eating an apple a day, etc. And maybe we would say that belief here is faith, as “I trust in”, say, the promises of God’s scripture, or that I give control of myself over to God, or my future health over to fruit.

When you communicated in the past, you weren't following any particular rule. Meaning does not arise from community rule following. — frank

And I can agree with that too. I’m not denying the skeptic’s argument.

Kripke presents this as the discovery of a problem; Cavell reads Wittgenstein as stating a truth. There is no fact that ensures the extension of a concept into the future or a new context. Unless it is a game or math, we do not “follow a rule” to reach a certain effect or conclusion. I got into this here

I agree with most everything you are saying and believe we are for the most part preaching past each other to the same choir. However.

There’s no desire for certainty here in acknowledging conditions for objectivity... And I’m not sure what ‘theoretical solution’ you’re referring to — Possibility

I agree with your description of an “accounting” to the criteria for what are “relevant features”, but that is not the classic conception of what “objectivity” is. Plato and Kant’s idea of a metaphysical “object” for comparison with its “appearance” to us was born of a desire for certainty (exactness), not just responsibility, accountability. This is the theoretical picture which I think is continued through in having “discursive” and “materiality” (the word, then the referent) with a tweak to try avoid the conclusion it is “metaphysical”.

What are ‘ordinary criteria’ but ‘conclusions’ themselves - apparatuses that reconfigure the world by enacting agential cuts? — Possibility

I’ll take from what I said to Number2018: we do have criteria for each practice for the judgments we make about them (whether they are appropriate within what we identify as that thing). What is normative is our lives themselves Cavell says. And we can make explicit those criteria for, say, an excuse, an apology, what we would call “following a rule”, or pointing, walking (compared to running)…

“Appropriateness” is precise, rigorous, and clear. Accuracy is a judgment to a set criteria, and so imposed onto an ordinary setting. This is how objectivity was created (out of the desire for an outside, higher, predictable, general criteria).

So yes, every practice is different, but it is differentiating that constitutes each practice, each reason or interest, and even culture itself - “not just what matters, but what is excluded from mattering”. — Possibility

And here I agree as well. To have a something we must push against everything. This speaking is a kind of violence and death. I would also point out that off course the “what” that is excluded is importantly also a “who”.

Being immersed in practices undertaking, how can one keep any basis for comparative evaluation or any means of applying normative criteria? — Number2018

My point is that we do have criteria for each practice for the judgments we make about them (whether they are appropriate within what we identify as that thing). What is normative is our lives themselves Cavell says. And we can make explicit those criteria for, say, an excuse, an apology, what we would call “following a rule”, or pointing, walking (compared to running)…

nature is a flow running through everything rather than a prescriptive essence unique to each being or species, — Number2018

But this “if” is flawed in both premises. We are not unique; and it is our “prescriptive” inculcation into a society and history that allows us to judge someone’s act, if necessary, along the criteria of what has come to be essential to that being what it is—to us, for example, identifying an excuse from a reason.

What has seemed ‘essential’ for ‘our culture’ in the past has been found on numerous occasions to be no indication of its accuracy, let alone its importance or appropriateness. — Possibility

Our practices can be appropriately done, but they are (mostly) not judged to be “accurate”. You can have an appropriate excuse, but it cannot be an “accurate” excuse. Measuring is accurate, the retelling of the facts of an occurrence can be more or less accurate, but there is no standard against which we would call most of our practices “accurate”. The “conditions for objectivity” have “not been lost”, they were imposed in the first place (from math). The desire for that certainty creates the need for a theoretical solution to what is just the varied conclusions available or not under our ordinary criteria.

”practices… are perpetually open to rearrangements, rearticulations, and other reworkings”. That this has been happening long before you and I get there does not render it a priori. — Possibility

Yes our practices are not fixed, however, as I tried to claim previously, they are not decisions, arrangements, or solutions. They are the ways we have lived our lives over thousands of years; changing our shared expectations that create the implications on which our actions are judged is not resolved intellectually but culturally, over time as we change how we live, judge, and expect. And another point I was trying to make is every practice is different in the means and possibility of its evolution and extension.

And by a priori I am pointing out that there is no reference here, only reasons, interests, what matters; and that we do not easily see these, but must deduce them, reflect on what has been there but is normally overlooked, assumed.

There is more here that I agree with than disagree; I think the generalization and something about the non-situational ethical discussion trips me up.

It’s not about responsibility or accountability to a category’s criteria (as if these ‘qualities’ were not simply ‘classic’ but essential, static or a priori), but to each other (human or non-human) in general, regardless of criteria, “for the lively relationalities of becoming of which we are a part”. — Possibility

I can agree that we are responsible to each other, but I would frame it in the sense that the criteria of a category are what has been essential to it for us (our culture) before you and I get there (a priori as it were). We came into our practices with their criteria already having been sculpted by human life choosing what is important about something being what it is, being done appropriately, what we can be held “accountable” to it for being a threat or an apology or a conclusion, etc.

And I agree this is a process of limitation and exclusion as much as identity and participation, but we do not articulate (decide) our criteria. They aren’t static nor inherent, and are subject to change, but as much as our shared lives are. What makes up an apology may not change as much as what we count as justice (dead to us maybe, or as yet unrealized), or even how we address one another.

What is at stake and at issue, that is, what matters within a given set of practices among the participants, is constantly under contestation in partially shared circumstances. — Joshs

Although I wouldn’t say it is always, or “constantly”, maybe we could agree that when “what is at stake” in a practice (its criteria) does become contested, we enter the moral realm, in which, I would say, part of it can be philosophy’s reflection on the workings of our practices, say, how we might continue from being at a loss, part of it is whether we continue together at all.

The endgame is responsible and accountable practices, or intra-action. — Possibility

I can understand how I could be held responsible and accountable for, say, an apology I did, held to the criteria for that practice. I can also imagine someone extending the limits or context of what we would consider the practice of comedy (say, its distinction from tragedy), but that would be relaxing the practice, expanding its criteria, though if we are judging a comedy as lacking the classic qualities, we are defending accountability to its practice. But what would be an example were we make a practice more responsible and accountable? And how?

Rations

What would be Barad’s standard of objectivity other than the measurements determined via the criteria offered by contingent configurations of phenomena? — Joshs

The point is that there is not one goal or outcome like “objectivity”. The standard of objectivity is certainty with goals like repeatability thus predictability and foreknowledge, basically what you get if you remove the human from the mix like science does (it not mattering which human is involved). The “contingent configurations of phenomena” are the criteria for each kind of thing, but each has its own, thus a moral problem can’t ensure agreement like a scientific one.

There are also no hard and fast distinctions between scientific, political, economic and literary domains. — Joshs

I’m not sure what “domain” means here, but what matters in each field leads to different criteria without any similar endgame. My point is that requiring certainty is a theoretical desire that strips away ordinary criteria which are different for each type of thing.

ascertaining the real is simultaneously an empirical, ethical and political endeavor. — Joshs

Well if we’re saying that there are political dimensions to philosophy, or ethical considerations in science, I agree, but the process and criteria, for the identity and correctness or appropriateness or ways in which they fail for each, are different and create the category and structure of a thing or practice.

The relevant "objects" are the ends at issue and at stake within the practice itself. The practice itself, however, already incorporates the material circumstances in and through which it is enacted. — Joseph Rouse

I believe this mirrors my reading to say each practice has its own problems and interests, and maybe “material circumstances” simply means the limits and categorical structure, but it appears to be brought up to defend that there is some solidity or consistency to our practices (like an object but not an object). My point is I find this unnecessary and confusing the issue because it implies that we need and will only accept certainty with any practice.

If I read this correctly, Barad wants to acknowledge that the world is not independent of us, abstract from our… particularity, situation. But she also wants to maintain the outcomes associated with “objectivity”, “existence” and “reality”. She accounts for these two seemingly disparate goals by claiming it is a misconception that the world is already “fixed”—as I take it: is an already-created object which we just come to know—and that the world actually becomes a certain thing (“determinate”) through our interaction with it.

One thing she is saying does not “pre-exist” are the criteria for judging a thing to be what it is (its “relata”; its “boundaries”), and that “which cuts are enacted” are themselves judged as “a matter of accountability for what materializes, for what comes to be”. But it is just Barad’s position, or wish, that criteria should be held to one standard of “objectivity”.

The idea of a “fixed world” was created by the fear of uncertainty associated with the human (termed “subjectivity”) in order to try to attain the certainty we associate with the standard of “objectivity”. Unless we unravel the desire for objectivity, we will merely continue to tie ourselves into theoretical knots imagining we are hiding the same old wish to avoid the “subjective” human. Notice how careful Barad is to stay away from a first person even though there is a lot of “doing” “enacting” “cutting” “accountability”, etc. Her fear of ‘the human’ (uncertainty) is why I take her to pointedly say “Phenomena are real material beings” and “This is, after all, a realist conception of scientific practices.” (Edit: science’s certainty, it’s “objectivity”, comes from its practice (not “reality”); it’s method leads to, because it requires, repeatability, predictability, uniformity (apart from us, as it doesn’t matter who does science)).

Wittgenstein takes criteria and subsumes them into our lives. Expounding Barad’s words: that the world “come [ s ] to matter”, is to say, implicitly: matter to us. What is meaningful about a thing (in our lives) is reflected in our ordinary criteria for judgment of a thing or activity; as Barad might put it, a things “materialization” is “embodied” with us. So there is no singular standard for our criteria like “objectivity” to make them all certain. Now we can say our criteria are “accountable”, but their change and correction and life and death and misuse and corruption are all a part of our shared lives. Barad says we are not the “condition of possibility for the existence of phenomena” but the possibilities, or options, for a phenomena are our shared interest in it (this is not our “self-interest” or desire). Our interest in politics or morality or art are different than our interest in science (though some would have it different).

Maybe a better concept is a fantasy. If there is something there or not, we have a desire that it, for example, serve a certain purpose (reference to an appearance) that it, perhaps, hold a place to allow or close off interpretation. Whatever the object and purpose, the fantasy is from the desire for a certain outcome.

We have an everyday theory about how we perceive and think, and that theory is, you know, wrong. — Srap Tasmaner

I didn’t say “theory”, because philosophy is not explaining vision or whatever the mechanism is for self-reflection or internal dialogue. And I’m not saying science doesn’t correct the lay-understanding of the world with definitive knowledge. But our ordinary criteria for judging that something is seen, or what is a thought, are, however, sufficient and precise enough to allow us to resolve our failings and misunderstandings, without abandoning them for the certainty and generality historically desired by philosophy and hoped for by a scientific explanation of the fantasy that this is all handled by cognitive processes (although not without cognitive processes, but only to say they don’t come into it here, with our ordinary criteria).

modern science has stepped up to continue doing what philosophy used to do — Srap Tasmaner

We used to call philosophy what science does now—the pursuit of knowledge—however, our relation to the world is not entirely by way of knowledge. I’m not speaking of belief or opinion, but of activities, practices, and even self-determination at times. How we “perceive” (let’s say see) or are “aware”, as @NotAristotle says, of objects as objects is based on our criteria for what an object is (rather than an illusion, or a gas, or something like peace or anger) and what counts as those activities in relation to them (what counts as seeing an object rather than another’s point of view, becoming aware of a distinct object rather than of a sneaking suspicion). Usually we don’t reflect on these issues until we are having a problem, in a specific context; we don’t use them rationally to do a thing (usually, unless Machiavellian) nor as reasons for doing something (though depending on the activity, having a motive or interest would be a integral part or requirement—say, applying for a job, but not, throwing a stick).

But you think almost all Western philosophy is a train-wreck anyway, and you're among the special few who understand how most philosophy and almost all science is based on a colossal mistake. — Srap Tasmaner

I’ve never said science is a mistake (though I do claim science is confused about this issue, as philosophy has been). And I take your comment that I am special in understanding this issue as sarcasm, which would be disrespectful and inappropriate here, so, unless I am mistaken, I’ll leave you to it.

It will frequently turn out to be the case that our everyday conceptions are inadequate for understanding what we find, even misleading, but we can also come to understand why we have come to conceive of things as we ordinarily do. — Srap Tasmaner

And this is the story philosophy has told itself, that ordinary criteria for judgment are “inadequate” and/or “misleading”, thus the advent of “appearances” and that philosophy’s job was to understand objects directly or actually or completely. And now science has taken the bait to really tell us how things are, as if the answer was the missing part and not the first step of turning our human condition into an intellectual problem. Science here is trying to answer a rigged question that is not about knowledge. Philosophy does not have the success of science, with its sturdy, repeatable, dependable conclusions; it’s meant to transform people. A moral discussion can always end without agreement, but that is not a reason to retreat to only what we can know (say, about the brain).

Rather than denying our responsibility for what we do with these capabilities, it provides the ground we stand on when we have those discussions. — Srap Tasmaner

Abandoning our regular criteria for distinguishing an object in favor of a scientific explanation is the desire to have something we can know and which removes ourselves from the issue, rather than it being an ordinary act (distinguishing) that we do for ourselves or others, or fail to do, or make mistakes in doing. And when I distinguish an object to someone, and they ask how I am distinguishing that object (in what way am I distinguishing it, by what features or attributes), no one ever explains a process of the brain. It is not the ground of any discussion, a scientific explanation is the end of (reasonable) discussion (other than scientific correction).

My version… just shows them why they were so puzzled… — Srap Tasmaner

And this is the hope for science (for some)—that it will solve philosophy—but philosophy is puzzled because it doesn’t recognize the part that our fantasies play in requiring certainty as an answer. Simply believing that, yes, we can have an answer! is not the way out of the bottle, it is fuel to the fire.

science is a dogma-free zone — Srap Tasmaner

When I say certainty I only mean predictable, repeatable, knowable, etc., which are the criteria for the conclusions of the scientific method. EDIT: most importantly here is that it does not matter which (competent) person does the experiment to reach the same conclusion.

There are well-known ways -- various optical illusions, in particular -- in which if you think that's what you're getting, what you actually get will be awfully confusing. — Srap Tasmaner

That the brain can make errors does not account for all the errors that can be made (and its errors can be understood in advance). And the exact point is that if we are talking about brain processes, we’re not talking about mistakes and excuses and responsibility because of the desire to make our interplay with objects pure instead of muddled with those considerations and our relation to others.

And what is “given” is our lives over the span of human history, all the practices and expectations and implications and shared judgments and interests and failings. Reason and knowledge are not our only relation to the world but that doesn’t mean the relation is hidden from us, only that at times it is a matter of living through it; a matter of, say, me identifying to you which object or part of an object is of interest to me, which is making you “aware” of it (or failing to).

If by training you had in mind some kind of social convention, that's just not it. — Srap Tasmaner

Not sure you’ve specified what it isn’t, but focusing on our biological relationship to objects is fine (it’s not wrong), but only, it’s trying to answer a question that philosophy has misconstrued out of fear and desire (how do we know the back side of the object exists?, etc.)

Hume wanted causality and “real” objects, but his desire overlooked the unexamined ordinary ways we handle our world, and the mistakes we make in it, which created his fantasy of things that could be known, only somehow we’re just out of our reach (see Plato and “virtue”).

And it looks like we are not aware of how some of the basic building blocks of the world are put together for us because we cannot be. The connections aren't there. It may present a bit like a habitual activity that you can perform "on automatic", without thinking, but there are things that you were never thinking, not consciously. — Srap Tasmaner

Yet science can find these magical processes, though the cart is before the horse, as somehow we know what we should be explaining, but have only just not yet explained it.

it does appear that objects are by and large constructed within the brain, without our awareness, — Srap Tasmaner

What we want with this picture is to understand seeing and identification of objects without our participation in the process. The chance of error previously led philosophy to create the idea of “appearances” (compared to something more “real” or certain). The current fascination with brain processes comes from the same desire. The fact of the brain’s development of object permanence, etc. does nothing to help us understand “seeing” “recognizing” “differentiating” “mistaking” “changing aspects” etc., all of which are activities, not hidden brain processes. Our usual “unawareness” of these acts are because we are so trained in them we handle everything effortlessly, until everything falls apart or we turn to reflect on them in doing philosophy. For example: I point out an object you had no awareness of and you “construct” it into your world in learning to identify and differentiate it, learn where to find it, etc. In an actual sense, your unawareness of it as a separate distinct object means it does not exist (for you), as you have no reasons for it to matter, no criteria of our reasons to be interested in it. Basically, the brain’s activity during all this is not critical to, nor does it illuminate, the philosophical issues involved.

"Human"?

Dogs don't bury bones? Beavers don't build dams? Owls don't catch field mice? — Srap Tasmaner

Of course. I only meant to say activities, as: different and more than brain processes; ones we are responsible for, judge the adequacy of. We could say other animals share or can share some with us, even regarding objects, but, of course, we have our own relations to objects; say, our (human alone) relation to our understanding of our relation to objects.

(1) where do we get the criteria for what counts as an object? — NotAristotle

It’s a function of how objects have mattered to us over the course of human life; the different ways we are interested in them compared to, say, theories, or colors, or apologies. When we deal with objects, what do we count as a correct or appropriate judgment or approach or point in their identity, use, differentiation, mistakes, clarity, etc., such as: recognizing it as distinct, being made aware of a part (that you see and I didn’t), presuming a complete picture although we only see a part, etc.

And we come by these criteria in getting raised in our culture through training, watching, mistakes, etc., (unconsciously as it were, not using them overtly), and as philosophers (explicating them) because we can all propose criteria and agree with others’ claims. Wittgenstein and ordinary language theory get these criteria, or “grammar” as he terms it, by looking at what we normally say when, in this example, when we are dealing with objects. What happens is philosophy wants to abandon these ordinary criteria and impose a requirement for certainty first, which creates a fantasy picture of something mental from a desire to have something we can find out for sure.

(2) I think the issue is a "how does our brain do that" mystery. Light enters the brain through the retina, it is parsed as images (lines, shapes, colors, and so on). At what point does that assemblage of lines shapes, colors, etc. become an object? If it's the brain that does that, how does it do so? — NotAristotle

Sure, the brain is doing stuff (vision, attention, focus, etc.) but it does not determine why we are interested in objects, the ways in which they matter to us; our turning our attention to one, our pointing one out from another, identifying one, etc. One way to put this is that physical science can’t do the work of philosophy, can’t solve our concerns and confusions with our human condition. We want it to take us (our failings) out of the picture, but the process of working with objects is a human activity.

Philosophy has been getting mixed up about this for a long time. It starts with error (in recognizing or identifying) and then tries to gain certainty (wanting to see an object “distinctly” as you say). The current manifestation to ensure our control is knowledge of the brain (cause then it will be science! and not us, subject to making mistakes). Your question is both easy and hard. How do we see an object as an object?

“See that object over there.
The grass?
No, I said, the object, dummy.
You mean the cat?
Oh, that’s a cat?”
Or
“You mean the cat?
No, I see the cat. The weird object with the lights above it.
Oh, yeah. Huh.”

We have criteria for what counts as an object, and can judge between cases. We have expectations in “pointing something out” and for seeing it, even for seeing it distinctly (from say, from the objects around it). It is a bit of a mystery because we (unreflectively) don’t usually parse out our lives that much (seems like an inherent ability), but it is not a “how does our brain do that” mystery. You grew up with objects: asking for them, pointing to them, naming them, etc. We aren’t confused about objects, we’re unsure about our future with them, because sometimes the magic doesn’t happen.

…most of the time, mathematical results are of little to no significance — Manuel

But it is the type of certainty that math has that matters: predictable, dependable, extendable to all applications, abstract from context, separate from human fallibility, rule-bound, complete, universal—in a word, perfect. Math is significant because it can find a solution for a future occurrence; it is the power behind technology, and, to an extent, the method of science.

it just seems obvious to me that intellect is far broader than will in scope. Of course, we use the will all the time (arguably), but its scope is somewhat reduced to do this or do that or don't do, more or less. — Manuel

His use of “has a wider scope” is not helping him here, but I take him to mean that we can act without thinking, that we can follow our will whether our knowledge is clear and distinct or not; for example, without being aware of the implications of an act. Part of what makes this interesting is that the force that math has to constrain us (because it is true, independent of who is doing it) is not the same as the shame, confusion, or unintelligibility that may persuade us to take a certain action, but does not have the same force upon us, on our will.

I really do find the whole "remembering" and "from within me" to be quite accurate in my experience and surprising. We need not follow its religious aspects, but it's a powerful thought. — Manuel

I would call it imagery or a mythical description of the feeling you have when you consider and realize how, for example, doing something mistakenly is different than doing it accidentally. That actions you have been doing all along can suddenly have distinctions and rationale that you had not considered, but that, when you do, causes you to acknowledge the truth of it; part awe in its being there already, and part uncanny that it is not always apparent.

certainty in one [ math ], is not translatable to certainty on another [ the existence of God ]. — Manuel

I am just getting through the next section, but I believe he is trying to claim that math and God have the same kind of certainty. As I said above, the force of math to require acceptance, but also its independence from people, their limitations, but I am still working on that.

@Manuel @frank @Janus @Paine

I was surprised, at the 11th paragraph of the Fourth Meditation, to find Descartes’ discussion of truth centered on ethics, and not epistemology or ontology. He, of course, has not let go of his desire for certainty. “when I understand something I undoubtedly understand it correctly.” But the takeaway here is that I do not usually “understand” things (reach that level of clarity and distinction), at least not immediately; to come to where we understand something takes time.

“Well, then, where do my mistakes come from? Their source is the fact that my will has a wider scope than my intellect has, so that I am free to form beliefs on topics that I don’t understand… That is the source of my error and sin.”

So Descartes’ will and judgment is falible, indirect. We must not assume we have immediate access to the truth by some internal calculation or connection to something outside us; it takes time to get clear about what makes this situation or practice distinct from others.

When he turns himself to the particular facts about the world, ordinary criteria are there that we all have access to in order to judge and act; as Plato would say, before our birth. They lie “forgotten” (implicit) embedded in our culture.

"The truths about all these matters are so open to me, and so much in harmony with my nature, that when I first discover any of them it feels less like learning something new than like remembering something I had known before, or noticing for the first time something that was already in my mind without my having turned my mental gaze onto it."

And our practices and their criteria fit his standard to a point. They are "not under [his] control" and when he thinks of them "[he is] constrained in how [he does] this". Unfortunately, for Descartes they must be "eternal, unchanging, and independent…."

So he retreats to mathematics as his example, and the properties it has are repeatable, predictable, thus proveable and so contain the certainty he needs to extrapolate that, if he understands something, it’s properties must be true as well, which is his justification that the property of existence must be true about God.

we are inclined to do or say such and such in a specific situation X, but we are not compelled to do so. — Manuel

Yes, we of course can act however we like—the only thing “compelling” us would be our customary responses. We don’t even “decide” to agree or act appropriately most of the time. An inappropriate action may not even register as a response (unless a form of rejection); it may not do anything in light of the situation (just an engine idling Wittgenstein will say PI#132); it may not even be considered an act. Something out of place does bring up the question, “Did you intend to…?” And here the workings of “intention” are now clear without being metaphysical. We have ordinary criteria to judge whether something is or is not a certain practice, we don’t make it one with our “will”.

Thank you for your continued interest.

@Manuel @frank @Janus @Paine@wonderer1

The picture of a metaphysical “will” (largely uncontested still) is that intention is a human process or ability to create meaning in language or take a certain action. That we internally choose what we mean and decide our actions.

Descartes, in paragraph 10 of the 4th Meditation, puts it as “The will is simply one’s ability to do or not do something.” I read in this that we don’t just do “anything”, but that, in a real situation, there is an expected act (“acceptance or denial, or for pursuit or avoidance”), and we can do the expected thing (the “something”), or not do it: excuse ourselves, beg off, take a stand. The options of what action to take are not inside us, only the decision of which of those available to us do we decide to do (or to do nothing). This why “intention” is not inside us as well.

So our “free will” is not: doing anything we “intend”. We are “determined” in the sense that “anything” is not (usually) open to us. What makes a movement an “act” is its place in a situation. You call a ball or a strike. Descartes calls this being “present[ed] with a candidate”. Our freedom is that, when we are presented with the possibilities in a context, “we have no sense that we are pushed one way or the other by any external force.” So our will may very well be impinged, and our freedom is not about unfettered internal agency; as Descartes puts it, “I can be free without being inclined both ways.” The will is not having every option open (being “indifferent” he says), but having a will, an inclination, passion, desire, wish; Descartes focuses on acting on principle or knowledge, but the picture is that we are partial (made whole in the act Emerson says), personal, not simply intellectual, rational.

Thank you for taking the time to read through those notes. Rather than having an alternative “answer” to Descartes’ metaphysics, I’m finding it more meaningful in seeing that the structure of his argument mirrors that of others concerning the perfection of the self.

I would prefer to say that he strives for certainty, as far as human understanding goes… But by now we know this is not possible, it's asking for way too much. — Manuel

I’m finding that the “striving” is the important part. The goal of certainty I take as self-imposed, so I wouldn’t say we don’t have the ability to understand or that we should just settle for an approximation, but that knowledge (certainty or not) is not our entire relationship to the world, that we must complete ourselves and posture ourselves towards others beyond knowing for sure the outcome or correctness or right.

@Manuel @frank @Janus @Srap Tasmaner @Paine

The third meditation, beginning at paragraph 34, is not an argument for the existence of God; it’s trying to imagine how we could exist without God. “…if God didn’t exist, from what would I derive my existence?”

Having interpreted the text to provide that we enact ourselves (or can), I will have to account for our derivation despite our imperfection. Descartes does stand by the conclusion that we are not metaphysical, that we may not exist (or continue to), though if we do exist it is without direct, conscious control over our selves.

"I experience no such power [to continue myself into the future], and this shows me quite clearly that I depend for my continued existence on some being other than myself."

Emerson and Thoreau and Nietszche at least, not to mention Freud, picture the self as divided in two, a part of which we may only allow to guide us, passively; that our conscious self is not our “cause”, as Descartes frames it. Emerson will talk about the exemplar that brings us to our next self; Nietzsche refers to this as the humanity above us. I take Descartes to be describing the same in saying the cause of us is in a "higher form". Thoreau will say we are at times in ecstasy, beside ourselves; in other words, “outside” our (conscious) selves, where Descartes only allows perfection to remain.

Descartes' case that we cannot be our own cause is partly based on our lack of knowledge of perfection. But our further self is unable to be "grasped by the finite", as Descartes puts it, because we are not a matter of knowledge. As I described above, our self is brought about in action, choice, reaction, interaction, into the future, held to our past, etc. We perfect our selves in “aspir[ing] without limit to ever greater and better things”. The self is not known or consciously chosen, but we strive and reach for what we “can’t grasp but can somehow touch with… thought.” We are not God, but our further self is “made in [God’s] image”, “gaz[ing] with wonder… contemplating… [its] majesty”.

The question is not the existence of God, but of us. “Once, on being asked… when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, ‘The coming of the kingdom of God is not something that can be observed [known], nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is in your midst’”. Luke 17:21, New International Ver. (or “within you” in the King James Ver.)

@Manuel @frank @Paine @Janus @Srap Tasmaner

By the 28th paragraph of meditation 3, there only remains the possibility that the idea of the “infinite, eternal, unchangeable, independent” (etc.) is beyond his ability to doubt.

“my perception of the infinite, i.e. God, is in some way prior to my perception of the finite, i.e. myself. Whenever I know that I doubt something or want something, I understand that I lack something and am therefore not wholly perfect.” (Emphasis added)

I find the crux here in the throwaway feeling of “lacking” something, as he was shaken at the beginning to find himself capable of being wrong when he thought he was fine; misinformed, or betrayed by society’s habitual opinions and practices. He takes this “lack” as a problem to be solved completely before proceeding, rather than part of our human condition to be addressed going forward in each case.

The “some way” in which the infinite (perfect) is “prior to” the perception of the finite (let’s say, human fallibility) is our desire for certainty. We set it as a pre-requisite and impose that criteria over our ordinary standards and workings of our practices. We want perfection to bridge our finite, limited knowledge and condition (apart from others) rather than be personally responsible for responding to the other and trusting the shared history of our lives together into our unknown future.