Actually, I say YES. My reason is this: meaning can be made from anything, but that meaning is only correct understanding when the intention of some communication is already known - when its purpose is rightly perceived.
This is why 'I love you' can be the deepest expression of devotion or the most sarcastic derision and yet appear identical. This is my whole obsession with the Gospel and Irony, Dave - to me we have many worlds in superposition - everyone is actually exposed to the Word….we just respond to it differently depending on our relationship to its origin. Kind of like when we receive a blood transfusion - is it Self or Other?
Is it always true to say there is no absolute truth? Etc. etc.
One could argue that “There is no purpose,” and yet is defeated by the very statement, just as claiming there is no light infers knowledge of light from which to claim it’s absence.
Imagine that the natural sciences were to suffer the effects of a catastrophe. A series of environmental disasters are blamed by the general public on the scientists. Widespread riots occur, laboratories are burnt down, physicists are lynched, books and instruments are destroyed. Finally a Know-Nothing political movement takes power and successfully abolishes science teaching in schools and universities, imprisoning and executing the remaining scientists. Later still there is a reaction against this destructive movement and enlightened people seek to revive science, although they have largely forgotten what it was. But all that they possess are fragments: a knowledge of experiments detached from any knowledge of the theoretical context which gave them significance; parts of theories unrelated either to the other bits and pieces of theory which they possess or to experiment; instruments whose use has been forgotten; half-chapters from books, single pages from articles, not always fully legible because torn and charred. Nonetheless all these fragments are reembodied in a set of practices which go under the revived names of physics, chemistry and biology. Adults argue with each other about the respective merits of relativity theory, evolutionary theory and phlogiston theory, although they possess only a very partial knowledge of each. Children learn by heart the surviving portions of the periodic table and recite as incantations some of the theorems of Euclid. Nobody, or almost nobody, realizes that what they are doing is not natural science in any proper sense at all. For everything that they do and say conforms to certain canons of consistency and coherence and those contexts which would be needed to make sense of what they are doing have been lost, perhaps irretrievably.
In such a culture men would use expressions such as ‘neutrino’, ‘mass’, ‘specific gravity’, ‘atomic weight’ in systematic and often interrelated ways which would resemble in lesser or greater degrees the ways in which such expressions had been used in earlier times before scientific knowledge had been so largely lost. But many of the beliefs presupposed by the use of these expressions would have been lost and there would appear to be an element of arbitrariness and even of choice in their application which would appear very surprising to us. What would appear to be rival and competing premises for which no further argument could be given would abound. Subjectivist theories of science would appear and would be criticized by those who held that the notion of truth embodied in what they took to be science was incompatible with subjectivism.
This imaginary possible world is very like one that some science fiction writers have constructed. We may describe it as a world in which the language of natural science, or parts of it at least, continues to be used but is in a grave state of disorder. We may notice that if in this imaginary world analytical philosophy were to flourish, it would never reveal the fact of this disorder. For the techniques of analytical philosophy are essentially descriptive and descriptive of the language of the present at that. The analytical philosopher would be able to elucidate the conceptual structures of what was taken to be scientific thinking and discourse in the imaginary world in precisely the way that he elucidates the conceptual structures of natural science as it is.
Nor again would phenomenology or existentialism be able to discern anything wrong. All the structures of intentionality would be what they are now. The task of supplying an epistemological basis for these false simulacra of natural science would not differ in phenomenological terms from the task as it is presently envisaged. A Husserl or a Merleau-Ponty would be as deceived as a Strawson or a Quine/
Sometimes we use words and think we use them correctly, but in fact we do not understand what they mean. Husserl describes this phenomenon as the vague use of words.14 We may be familiar with the word tree, and we may be acquainted with trees, but we may still fail to understand both the word and the tree (these are not two understandings but one). We do use the word tree, and seem therefore to target the tree, but what we go on to say about it shows that the intelligibility of the tree has not appeared to us; the tree is present to us, but the intelligibility of trees remains absent. The name is used by association, not with logical insight, and other people, those who do understand trees, will see that we use the word but do not know what we are talking about. It is true that we would probably need to recognize at least the shape of the tree, and so we would need to grasp at least that much of the tree’s intelligibility and to know at least that property; without that much of an inkling of what it is, we probably could not use the name at all. But if we are speaking vaguely, we would know practically nothing more of its essentials. We might, for example, expect it to bleed if someone cut it, or we might expect it to reproduce by generating little trees inside itself (these are far-fetched possibilities, but they help make the point).
Because we have the word and the thing but not the intelligibility, our speech about the tree is unstable. We may in fact say something true about trees, but this happens more by accident than by knowledge. We may have heard people say things about trees and might repeat what they say; or we might just take a chance and manage to say something true; but as we continue to speak about trees, the inadequacy of our knowledge becomes obvious to anyone who knows anything about trees. The specific intelligibility of trees is absent to us. It is not that we are altogether ignorant of trees; we are indeed trying to think and speak about them, and we are using what seem to us to be the appropriate names and predicates that belong to this thing, but we use the words vaguely, without thinking and without insight into what the thing is. This intelligibility is not there for us; this specific understandability– not just any one at all, but the one belonging to trees– is absent to our minds.15
My example of the intelligibility of trees is, as I have conceded, rather far-fetched. It is hard to imagine anyone with any intelligence and even a minimal acquaintance with trees being so entirely devoid of insight into what trees are. But it is much easier to imagine that people use words like democracy, politics, freedom, and happiness, or even atom or electricity, in a vague way.16 The phenomenon often occurs when academics pretend to know something about quantum mechanics or Godel’s Theorem. Such vague usage sometimes embarrasses the user. Often enough we want to impress others with our “knowledge”; we want to “fake it” for some reason or other. Wesay a few things and may, by accident, seem to have gotten them right, but then, as we try to hold forth further, our inadequacy to the thing, the absence of the thing’s intelligibility to our minds, shows up more and more. This inadequacy shows up most vividly in the vagueness of our syntactic articulation of the thing, but it is also present in our very naming of the thing, in our use of a vocabulary. It is not just the syntax that has been vaguely executed; the name has been vaguely used as well. The content as well as the form of our speech is inadequate. We do not possess the eidos of the thing in question.
Such an absence of intelligibility is a public phenomenon. It occurs in the same public domain as the judgments we make for and before one another, and it is dependent on the vocabulary that we have as a resource. A speaker can be profoundly confused about democracy precisely because there is a word, democracy, floating around in his linguistic environment, being used by many people. He enters into conversation with them and, very likely, his use of this term and others related to it will be vague at the start. If he is insightful and willing to take in the way things are, his use of the word and others associated with it will become more distinct and clear, but if he lacks insight or does not want to learn, his usage may remain confused for the rest of his life. The intelligibility behind the term democracy, the intelligibility in democracy, will remain absent to him even as he seems to make it present
That's a lot of quotes! Well, the OP was short on content, I figured I'd add a bit! — Count Timothy von Icarus
First, it might sound simple (i.e., that you're reducing meaning to something simple) saying that use is meaning, but Wittgenstein spent quite a bit of time explaining it. It's not reductionist. — Sam26
If we see a note on a refrigerator according to our use of words we can understand what it says. However it should be noted that the note has an active role in us shaping our language and selecting the use we are going to give it. But here "giving a use" is misleading, since it seems that the subject is the one who has the only active role. However, we cannot explain our choice of word use other than from the note on the refrigerator. That is, the note has an active role in shaping the use. The role of the note is so active that in my opinion the idea of use is very restrictive to the subject. That is why I prefer to speak of transcription and of active non-subjective sign systems that interact with us. — JuanZu
I don't think the note has an active role in anything, it's just a note. We know what it means because we know what the words mean. It's that simple. There is no selecting a use, it's just to communicate. — Darkneos
You are ignoring that the use we think we can make of the note is delimited by the note itself. It is like a command that interacts with us. And above all it is the reason why we understand a specific use and not any other. This is an active role that transcends the subjectivity of the subject and its intentionality. That is why the notion of use falls short, because the use is anchored to a subject, or to a way of life. Today with artificial intelligence we see more clearly how non-subjective sign systems interact with us. — JuanZu
Not really no. The note is just the medium, it's someone else interacting with us. — Darkneos
That is in fact false. Because the mental contents are not in the note as a ghost in the letters. The note is alone and it is exerting a constraint on our language. — JuanZu
I maintain that it is because there is an active role of the note in the refrigerator. — JuanZu
It is partly the reason why we understand what we understand. Partly because the subject also has an active role and both roles interact with each other. — JuanZu
That's why when you are asked why you interpret the way you interpret what the note says you actually have to show the note and say "the note says so". — JuanZu
It's not and the mental contents are in the note that is why they wrote it, that's also how poetry works among other writing. The note is not alone or exerting anything, again just imagination. — Darkneos
Or because we just use the same language and understand each other. — Darkneos
First, it might sound simple (i.e., that you're reducing meaning to something simple) saying that use is meaning, but Wittgenstein spent quite a bit of time explaining it. It's not reductionist
Second, nothing I've read in that long post does anything to dispel the idea that meaning is primarily derived from use
Some of it shows that people can start using words differently from their intended purpose, but even if this happens, the new use will drive the new meaning. Use is not absolute; it changes, and new uses are formed. Sometimes incorrect uses morph into new language games and that incorrect use becomes accepted as just another use within a certain part of a culture.
You are doing nothing other than categorically denying what I state. But without argument. — JuanZu
That language we share is actively exposed in the note, but not by another person, because this one is absent. — JuanZu
But as I said the note acts in the absence of its author, it acts in us who read and understand it. — JuanZu
In part the note actively is its ordo cognoscendi, by its syntax, by the place in which it is found (a refrigerator), by its style, etc. — JuanZu
Second, I had forgot Grayling's full example. People can use "QED" and the like consistently, in the correct way, and not know their meaning. However, consider "kalb." It means dog in Arabic. You now know what kalb means. However, if you don't know Arabic, you don't know how to use it in a sentence. — Count Timothy von Icarus
But what determines use? Wouldn't the causes of use and usefulness play an important role in explaining language too? — Count Timothy von Icarus
Again it's the medium. — Darkneos
Use determines use, paradoxical it may seem.
No human culture has ever come up with names for the colors in the ultraviolet spectrum that are visible to insects, but not to the human eye. — Count Timothy von Icarus
Wittgenstein gets at this vaguely with the notion of a "form of life," but I think we could certainly expand on that a great deal more, as a means of showing how human biology determines use and usefulness. — Count Timothy von Icarus
The purpose here is absent because the absent of the autor and is partly a cause for misunderstanding. — JuanZu
That is, you can interpret many things from the note. A person can say something to another person and still be misunderstood. Uttering words is like leaving a note on the refrigerator. — JuanZu
There is some independence of the "medium" from the message. But this independence is active as I have shown. — JuanZu
The medium in a certain sense can betray the message and the author's intention. — JuanZu
But the note as the words we utter imposes its conditions, there is no absolutely transparent medium, which means that there is an active role of the medium beyond the purpose and intention of the agent. — JuanZu
With making meaning I don’t think you need purpose to do so. — Darkneos
Use determines use, paradoxical it may seem. — Darkneos
I repeat, this is because if it were not absent we would be talking about something similar to the ghost in the machine, in this case the ghost in the ink. — JuanZu
Can you give any example of use that is devoid of any purpose and hence of any usefulness or benefit? — javra
Use entails intentioning which entails intent (with purpose equating to either intentioning or intent). They’re not the same thing though. Intentioning X is not the same as making use of X. The latter presupposes the former, but the former can occur without the latter. — javra
You're intending to make use of something — Darkneos
In fact the purpose is absent in the note. I repeat, this is because if it were not absent we would be talking about something similar to the ghost in the machine, in this case the ghost in the ink. — JuanZu
Uttering words is very similar to leaving a note. Both can lead to misunderstandings. Why is that? — JuanZu
Precisely because there is an active part of the "medium", without this active part there would never be a possible misunderstanding. — JuanZu
Medium transparency is an illusion you have invented. The possibility of misunderstanding proves otherwise. But in fact there are misunderstandings, ergo I am right. There is an independence of the medium that is active. — JuanZu
"Intending to" make use of something is not the same as "making use of something". — javra
Use of X presupposes intentioning, but intentioning "that one use X" can occur without X ending up being used. — javra
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