I think I've figured out where I was wrong here. Classical philosophy, like our everyday language, is built on the substance paradigm. In it, the world consists of: Things (substances) that exist in themselves. Properties (attributes) that these things "have" or "have".
The question "What is a property?" in this paradigm seeks an answer about a static characteristic attached to an object. For example, "redness" is a quality that an apple has.

The proposed Paradigm: Process. It does not have static "things" with properties. There are only "Beings" - temporary, stable patterns in the flow of becoming and "Interactions" (Meetings) - dynamic events that make up reality.

The mistake was to take the question from the old paradigm ("What does a thing have?") and try to give it a direct answer in the new one, instead of reformulating the question itself.

So what is a property? A property is a name that we give to the event-result of the Meeting.

That's all. It is not a thing, not a characteristic, not a mode. It is an event.

There is an apple-being with its internal structure (we called it Mode). There is a light-being and an observer-being. The Meeting (interaction) occurs between them.

The event of this triple Meeting is "redness". "Redness" is not what the apple has. It is what happens when the apple, the light and the eye meet.

On your bigger question: I agree that many people just follow ready-made systems. It feels easier, like taking the only open seat on a bus. But I think there’s value in choosing consciously instead of outsourcing morality. Even if we borrow ideas from traditions or ideologies, ultimately, it’s our compassion and responsibility that give them meaning. Following a pattern blindly might be simpler, but it risks causing harm without ever asking whether it could be avoided. — Truth Seeker

I don’t see Compassionism as just “my personal template,” but as a principle anyone could adopt because it’s grounded in something universal: the capacity to suffer and the desire to avoid harm.

Of course, people may or may not value compassion as highly as I do — but that doesn’t make it empty. It’s like honesty: not everyone practices it, but most would agree it’s better than dishonesty when building trust. Compassion works the same way — it has value beyond me because suffering and wellbeing are real for everyone who can experience them. — Truth Seeker

I'm sorry, but I see contradictions here.

So your system is valuable to you, but just an empty template to others?

Stones, as far as we know, don’t have any capacity to feel pain or pleasure, so they wouldn’t be included. — Truth Seeker

I hope the stone consciousness supporters will pass by and not look in here :lol:

Compassionism isn’t about self-destruction — it’s about balance. I — Truth Seeker

The balance offers a scale. This is Relativism again. Maybe this is an unsolvable problem.

By the way. There are systems of views (ideologies) in which what is good and what is bad is prescribed in advance, and the choice is practically prescribed to the person (for example, Chu che). You don't need to think about what is good or bad. It has already been written for you. In my opinion, most people in the world don't even think about it; they simply believe in their ideologies (including those that emphasize personal responsibility for one's choices).

Going back to the question: does a person really need to have their own choice, or is it easier to follow a pattern? (For example, if you get on a full bus and there's only one seat available, you'll sit there instead of searching for a better spot if the bus is empty)

You write compassion for all sentient beings. Ok. Let's define who is sentient and who is not. Here on the forum there are many adherents of the idea that stones also have consciousness. Or again set boundaries - these are sentient, these are insensitive. Then what can this be based on? Just believe you or someone else?

then what is the limit of compassion? Sell a kidney and feed starving children with the proceeds?

.

I don't like any of the approaches. That's how we live.
In the deontological approach, you have to believe in something (but what about non-believers?)
In the utilitarian approach, everyone can have different values, which leads to chaos
In the existential approach, if you are a maniac and act in accordance with your aspirations, things don't work out very well either

Nihilism is also not a solution

What would you suggest for people like me?

Any act (active action) leads to the violation of the boundaries of another. This is inevitable: A single-celled organism eats something, which leads to the loss of this something; A person simply walking down the street fills the space with himself and others have to go around him; the release of advertising - with the help of special manipulative techniques makes the consumer buy a product.

The question arises - which action is right and which is wrong? To what extent is it permissible to violate someone's boundaries?

Attempts to answer these questions historically led to the creation of the Deontological (correct is what is prescribed) and Utilitarian (correct is the least of two evils) approaches and their combination.

But the most interesting question, in my opinion, arises in the process of implementation by the subject: Why should I act this way and not otherwise?

Deontological approaches often use metaphysical justification (the soul will not get to heaven or the universe will throw in suffering). Utilitarian approaches introduce the concept of values ​​(when choosing behavior, you should choose in favor of the most valuable).

And here the existential approach appears, which reformulates the question to: What is the price of my action? Am I ready to bear it as part of myself? And it answers it itself: what is right is what leads to one's own agreement with the consequences of one's own act, as part of one's own being.

Yes, your judgments look consistent. In all possible acts, the hammer can manifest itself in an unknowable way. Perhaps we will never know it in all its possibilities. What prevents us from acknowledging this and moving forward? This is precisely what science does: it discovers new properties in new combinations, records them, and we use them. Even though we know that the hammer is unknowable, we can still use it to drive nails, right? Further exploration of the properties of a hammer is justified if it has practical benefits.

Your intuition is that anything that exists must have boundaries, must have some limit in order to be an existence. But the modus does not meet this criterion, as it cannot be fully named in all its aspects. Therefore, the modus is again a construct of the mind, rather than something that actually exists. However, consider the universe as an example. It cannot be fully defined yet, but that does not mean that it does not exist. So we come to the fact that when we call something something, we don't necessarily need to know all its boundaries, but they must exist somewhere, and once we know them all, we may call it something else. Therefore, a single definition may not be sufficient to call something something, and as I have mentioned in other topics, it is necessary to introduce multiple characteristics that complement each other and are revealed during the process.

As I have already mentioned, the modus is what is contained in the hammer itself, while the properties are what is created through the interaction of various participants, and our knowledge is our understanding of these properties. In my opinion, this approach does not involve excessive metaphysics and is focused on the process. Without the process, there are no properties. The author's description is a clever way of expressing our understanding (rather than the properties) through sets. Whether this approach is good or bad is a matter of personal opinion.

Maybe this approach will allow us to see more, understand more, or maybe not. We'll see.

This way it is easier for me: the hammer appears in the act of meeting; and even more briefly: the thing is revealed in the Participation. You asked questions, so I had to clarify everything, write a lot of words.

Still, a hammer has a modus (potential, opportunity) to be a hammer, as does a stone, especially when attached to a stick, as does a microscope when used to drive nails. But this property is not in the object or the subject, but in the encounter. In the involvement. After this encounter, as I said, the hammerness remains in our consciousness. Hammerness can be lost in modus (the hammer just rotted and became unusable), hammerness can be lost in act (for example, people started using screwdrivers and stopped hammering nails), and hammerness can be lost in consciousness (we have raised a generation that doesn't know what a hammer is or what to do with it).

The hammer's hammerness is revealed in the act of nailing. I am saying that it was inherent in the hammer before the act (modus), and then became a property in the act of nailing. As a result, we named (or attributed) this hammerness to the hammer for cognitive purposes.

For example, if Mowgli sees a hammer without any explanation of what it is for, then for Mowgli, the hammer will have the properties that Mowgli will use it for (throwing it at Shere Khan). Mowgli will probably not discover the hammer's properties. However, the hammer's properties (such as being used for nailing) will remain intact and will be revealed in the hands of a carpenter.

Hammerness is just an example (and as I mentioned, perhaps with an inaccurate translation). The idea is that a hammer can be used both as a tool for hammering nails and as a stand for a refrigerator. You can also use a microscope to hammer nails... Just consider it an example

Not at all, just try to read it all again. I understand that it's a bit boring

The spirit of my idea is close to the Kantian model, but it adds new layers. Kant’s noumenon can be compared to what I call the modus, and his phenomenon is similar to what I call a property. But note this small, crucial detail: properties are relational.
The property of redness or hammerness can be objective (for a carpenter, a hammer is a useful tool), or it may not be (someone who has been hurt by a hammer may see it as a source of pain). However, in my case, properties are more deeply relational; they are revealed in an act of participation, which can even occur between two objects without an observer present (for example, two rocks striking each other, revealing hardness).
Furthermore, the modus may be change over time. An apple is red, perhaps because this color is evolutionarily more attractive to animals that disperse seeds, who might have been more inclined to eat red apples. My modus is not a static thing-in-itself. So a car can be red because red cars were in demand earlier (and green cars weren't), and this became the result of earlier interactions.
I am defending the subject, but not to the degree of anthropocentrism seen in Kant, whose phenomena are an act of cognition.

I just discussed the same topic in another thread. I think you'll find it interesting, so I'll just copy my answer

My fascination with the processual approach to ontology is a kind of response to speculative ontology (object-oriented ontology and so on). I believe that the "subject" today needs philosophical defense more than ever before. If you're familiar with the works of us contemporaries, I think you'll understand what I'm talking about.
Harman, for instance, argues that the "hammerness" of a hammer is always withdrawn. "Hammerness" is the real being of the hammer as a unified object, which can't be reduced to its relationships with other things (e.g., a hand, a nail, or our thinking). We can't know it completely because:
Objects have "real qualities" that aren't exhausted by their "sensual" manifestations.
Any kind of knowledge is a relation that only reveals aspects of the object, but not its holistic essence.
This withdrawal occurs in three dimensions: the object transcends any attempts to grasp it; it retreats into the background during use; and as a tool, it's always on the verge of breaking, yet remains partially inaccessible.
Harman emphasizes that this isn't skepticism (objects are real) but rather realism: objects exist independently, but their depth is infinite and inaccessible. This distinguishes OOO from relational ontologies, where everything is reduced to connections.


What I Propose:
The modality (or the name can be changed to your liking) of a hammer is its "shadowy depth" (like Harman's), objective and inaccessible in isolation. But when the hammer is used, "hammerness" as a property emerges as an event—dynamic and contextual. This explains why we can't know hammerness statically: it doesn't exist "in the hammer" as a substance, but is born at the boundary of interaction, much like how for Harman, an object is only partially revealed in relationships.

For Harman, the hammer is revealed in its use—we see only one aspect. I propose to refine this: "hammerness" as a property is revealed in an act of participation, an act of encounter, and depends on the participants in the interaction (the hand, the nail, the task, the lighting). For another participant (e.g., a child playing with the hammer) or context (the hammer as a weapon), a different property is revealed, but the hammer's modality remains the same. This helps explain why complete knowledge is impossible: properties infinitely vary in processes, but they never exhaust the modality.

For Harman, the subject is a passive object, equal to others and withdrawn from access. The subject is unremarkable and unnecessary (why do we need it if everything is an object, and the method is objective). In my opinion, on the contrary, the subject (the observer or the "I") is a fully existent being with its own modalities (objective structures, such as the visual system or consciousness). It doesn't disappear or become fully flattened: the subject actively participates in the act of Participation, where properties are revealed. For example, in the case of a red apple, the subject (observer) is one of the participants in the interaction (along with the apple and light), and their modalities (cognitive structures) determine how the event of the property emerges. This overcomes Harman's radicalism, returning a role to the subject in reality, but without idealism: the subject doesn't create properties; it co-participates in their actualization

Friday saw you and other participants in this thread ask me some interesting questions, but I wanted to take a short break before I answered. I'll get back to those questions later. But here's what I want to say right now.
My fascination with the processual approach to ontology is a kind of response to speculative ontology (object-oriented ontology and so on). I believe that the "subject" today needs philosophical defense more than ever before. If you're familiar with the works of us contemporaries, I think you'll understand what I'm talking about.
Harman, for instance, argues that the "hammerness" of a hammer is always withdrawn. "Hammerness" is the real being of the hammer as a unified object, which can't be reduced to its relationships with other things (e.g., a hand, a nail, or our thinking). We can't know it completely because:
Objects have "real qualities" that aren't exhausted by their "sensual" manifestations.
Any kind of knowledge is a relation that only reveals aspects of the object, but not its holistic essence.
This withdrawal occurs in three dimensions: the object transcends any attempts to grasp it; it retreats into the background during use; and as a tool, it's always on the verge of breaking, yet remains partially inaccessible.
Harman emphasizes that this isn't skepticism (objects are real) but rather realism: objects exist independently, but their depth is infinite and inaccessible. This distinguishes OOO from relational ontologies, where everything is reduced to connections.


What I Propose:
The modality (or the name can be changed to your liking) of a hammer is its "shadowy depth" (like Harman's), objective and inaccessible in isolation. But when the hammer is used, "hammerness" as a property emerges as an event—dynamic and contextual. This explains why we can't know hammerness statically: it doesn't exist "in the hammer" as a substance, but is born at the boundary of interaction, much like how for Harman, an object is only partially revealed in relationships.

For Harman, the hammer is revealed in its use—we see only one aspect. I propose to refine this: "hammerness" as a property is revealed in an act of participation, an act of encounter, and depends on the participants in the interaction (the hand, the nail, the task, the lighting). For another participant (e.g., a child playing with the hammer) or context (the hammer as a weapon), a different property is revealed, but the hammer's modality remains the same. This helps explain why complete knowledge is impossible: properties infinitely vary in processes, but they never exhaust the modality.

For Harman, the subject is a passive object, equal to others and withdrawn from access. The subject is unremarkable and unnecessary (why do we need it if everything is an object, and the method is objective). In my opinion, on the contrary, the subject (the observer or the "I") is a fully existent being with its own modalities (objective structures, such as the visual system or consciousness). It doesn't disappear or become fully flattened: the subject actively participates in the act of Participation, where properties are revealed. For example, in the case of a red apple, the subject (observer) is one of the participants in the interaction (along with the apple and light), and their modalities (cognitive structures) determine how the event of the property emerges. This overcomes Harman's radicalism, returning a role to the subject in reality, but without idealism: the subject doesn't create properties; it co-participates in their actualization.

I apologize in advance for any discrepancies that may arise due to the translator, as I am not a native English speaker.

Something cannot be named, thought, represented, or manifested if it does not have a finite existence. Infinity, as a mathematical model, can only exist as a cognitive construct, not as an independent entity (similar to zero). In my opinion, the concept of "infinite consciousness" is a speculative idea, and here's why: Even when we refer to something as infinite, we are defining it. Defining something is the task of establishing limits or boundaries. I don't know what mathematicians will say about this, but the very concept of "infinity" seems like a logical error, but I agree that it is necessary as an imaginary concept for building other cognitive constructs. I suggest that you define the concept of "infinity" in terms of your approach and the constructs you are developing.

Wouldn't surface texture also count as a property? Can we think of surface texture as a realized event? — frank

Every being has embodiment - its flesh, structure, potential.
But embodiment itself does not yet generate a property.
A property arises when a being enters into active Participation - into interaction with another being.
A property is not something that a being "has", but something that "happens" when they meet.

That was the idea

But at the same time it is difficult for a philosopher to stop in his criticism. The philosopher begins to ask - "What is "is"?", "What does "to be" mean?" And so on ad infinitum. As they said above - you can't put the genie back in the bottle =)))

"potential for redness" is of course not an academic term, but simply my way of expressing the idea. In this case, it is the potential inherent in an apple to be perceived as red by a non-colorblind subject in sunlight. That is, the very texture (embodiment, flesh) of the thing. As opposed to a property that manifests itself exclusively in dynamics and interaction.

I agree with you. In this sense, philosophy is a dude who sits in your head and criticizes you. In psychology, this is called self-reflection (if I'm not mistaken). Education in general (including philosophy itself) teaches a person to be friends with this dude, and not shut his mouth =)

This is the problem I had in mind when I spoke about interaction with others. Many people are driven by prejudices. As Gadamer says, this is not bad, since it gives a person the very possibility of knowledge. But often these prejudices become reinforced concrete for their bearer. In this sense, I often have a contradiction in the relationship between me and others.

The question arises: Is it worth undermining their prejudice, although it does not stand up to criticism? This is exactly what I mean when I say that I am forced to "step on my own throat"

A very subtle definition for philosophy that you voiced: "therapy aimed at developing clarity of thinking."

An interesting approach—formally elegant and convenient, especially from the standpoint of set-theoretic formalization. It allows properties to be neatly defined through their instances and resolves the problem of uninstantiated properties via possible worlds.

However:

The set of all red things does not quite align with our intuitive grasp of “redness” as something unified and shared. A set is merely a collection of objects, whereas a property seems to be something more abstract—something that binds those objects together.

Identifying properties such as “equilateral triangle” and “equiangular triangle” as one and the same disregards their contextual distinctions. In geometric analysis, for example, whether emphasis is placed on sides or angles can carry significant implications, even if the extension is the same.

In the end, your approach requires a metaphysical commitment to the reality of possible worlds, which is itself a contested position.

I propose we step away from a substantialist approach to ontology and turn instead toward a processual one, which I am actively developing.

Rather than conceiving of properties as static characteristics inherent in objects—or as sets of such objects—we can understand them as dynamic events that emerge through acts of interaction (or, if you will, participation) between beings. A property is not something a thing has, but something that happens at the threshold where it encounters other beings.

Take “redness” as an example. Under the substantialist view, redness is either an inherent trait of the object or the set of all red things. In processual ontology, redness is an event that unfolds through the interaction of:

The thing (e.g., the apple, whose structure determines how it reflects light);

The light (photons of a particular wavelength);

The observer (a human or other creature interpreting that reflected light through their perceptual apparatus).

Redness, then, is not inside the apple. It is born from the interplay of all three participants. This makes the property contingent: for a different observer (say, someone with color blindness), or under different lighting conditions, redness may not manifest at all.

Another example: “a pleasant scent.” Scent is not a static attribute of a substance. It is an event arising from the interaction of molecular structures, olfactory receptors, and a brain interpreting those signals within the context of memory and experience. What smells pleasant to a human may signal danger to an insect.

But how should we treat uninstantiated properties—without lapsing into subjective idealism?

To relieve this tension, we can distinguish between modes and properties:

Mode (internal disposition): This is the objectively existing structure of the apple’s embodied being—its surface texture and chemical composition—that predisposes it to reflect light of a certain wavelength. This mode exists independently of both light and observer. It remains even in complete darkness. This aligns fully with realism.

Property (realized event): This is the event of redness, which only occurs when the apple’s mode enters into participation with light and an observer. This property does not exist in darkness.

The unactualized mode remains. The potential for redness (the mode) is always there, as long as the apple itself exists. But the redness (the property) is an event that may or may not come into being.

I just read this thread. I remember how in rhetoric classes at the university we spent the whole semester chewing over 2 questions: 1. Should prostitution be legalized? 2. Should the death penalty be used/not used as a form of punishment?

At alumni meetings we always remember these questions with warmth and continue the discussions.

It is interesting that over the years, most of them have changed their minds more than once.

At the university we played out scenes of a trial. I was the "defense attorney" for prostitution. I managed to convince the jury then =)

my interest in academic philosophy began with a visit to the Kant Museum in Kaliningrad (Königsberg) about 5 years ago. Although Kant was part of the curriculum back in university, to my shame I couldn't remember what he wrote about when I was in the museum, and thanks to the interactive whiteboard installed there I was hooked by what he wrote about.

Although psychology promised to teach what a person thinks on every corner (and this turned out to be exaggerated), studying Kant promised to teach how a person cognizes. Since then, I began to greedily absorb Kant, then Hegel, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Le Bon, and finally Heidegger, while studying academic sciences such as epistemology, axiology, rhetoric, ethics, where the ideas of different philosophers were presented in the form of a system.

What did this give me? First of all, the ability to evaluate judgments: for me it became easy to distinguish speculation from assertion, check them, separate them from emotions. This also affected my persuasion skills. The I-State relationship changed significantly: my ideas about the actions of the state acquired structure and clarity, which allowed me to predict the behavior of the state or the development of international relations with greater accuracy (as time has shown).

The skill of separating emotions from events, manipulation from facts, propaganda from events.

From the point of view of my own life: right now I am writing a paper on ontology, with my own approach to the I-others relationship, my own development, life and death, being and nothingness, time and space.

All this allows me to more accurately understand what I want, what I want from life, from work, from others, from raising my children, to understand why I make this choice and not another.

New difficulties arose because you begin to see a little wider. But along with this came the skill of letting go: allowing something to be as it is.

In relations with loved ones, it became easier for me to calm their existential anxieties, to help them cope with depression. But, as I wrote above, I had to step on my throat more often in communication. Otherwise, I feel like I'm suppressing them.

I think philosophy did not become the author of my portrait, but it added subtlety and detail to this portrait

It is interesting to observe how each of those who spoke, possessing extensive knowledge in the field of philosophy and a long history of philosophizing, nevertheless in everyday life remains a simple person, with ordinary views, with simple desires and good intentions. Perhaps philosophy teaches us this?

How did you manage to connect all this with the people around you? Did they start listening to your wisdom, or on the contrary, moving away from you? Or did you manage to separate philosophy and interaction with others? Or surround yourself with people like you?

I tend to value approaches which minimise suffering and promote flourishing. — Tom Storm

It would be difficult for me to assess in your place what exactly is minimizing suffering: letting someone commit suicide or letting someone live :grin:

The root for wise traces back to the Proto-Germanic wis-, meaning "to see" or "to know". This Germanic origin is seen in words like the Latin sapientia ("wisdom") and the Greek sophia ("wisdom"), both connecting to discerning or tasting meaning.' In Sanskrit, 'vidya' is 'wisdom' or 'true knowledge' (more often encountered in the negative i.e. 'avidya', signifies lack or absence of wisdom). Also from the root 'vid', meaning 'to know' or 'to see'. — Wayfarer

In Russian, this also finds its development. "Видеть" (videt') - that is, to See and "Ведать" (vedat') - that is, to Know.

Both words come from the Old Slavonic root вѣдѣти, which means "to know, to be familiar with something."

there's no putting the genie back in the bottle. — boethius

:lol: :rofl: :up:

I’m at ease with being, to a significant degree, an expression of the values of my time. — Tom Storm

Have you ever felt the urge to take stock of your own paradigm?

I mostly just act. — Tom Storm

Thought experiment: You walk into a room where a stranger is about to commit suicide. What do you do?

I admit honestly. Often I deliberately reject any rational knowledge and make a decision simply on the basis of what I want (without explaining the reasons) without relieving myself of responsibility for such a decision. In the end, I am just a person. I believe that it is very important to allow myself this.

I really like your approach to this issue. It is multifaceted and takes into account different views.

However, the thing is that if you imagine yourself as a dictionary compiler: you need to somehow accurately, briefly and meaningfully state the definition of the concept so that anyone who reads it can grasp the meaning, and the definition itself at least does not contradict itself. It is for these reasons that I gave my own definition.

In this case, if we take a chaotic world order as a starting point, then "system" = A, if we take an ordered world order as a starting point, then "system" = B

But what if the system is just our idea? Chaos or order - our idea? Maybe everything is somehow different? Science is built on the basic assumptions that the universe has some kind of order. But this is precisely an assumption, which is confirmed by the existence of paradoxes.

So in this case, all our judgments are nothing more than opinions.

I do not earn my living from philosophy and philosophizing in the literal sense. Unless, of course, you consider my regular work as a lawyer as philosophizing, when I use epistemology, rhetoric, axiology and ethics as an everyday applied tool.

In this sense, philosophy serves me very well.

But my question is more about everyday life: choosing a product in a store, interacting with my wife, raising children, talking at the table with friends. In my case, in everyday life I have to "step on my throat", keep quiet, not get into arguments, otherwise all attention instantly switches to such an argument, and my wife has no choice but to eventually agree with my views in everyday matters (but I do not want to suppress her). This is where this topic arose. How do you combine philosophy and everyday life in your case?

I don't know how a bear understands a forest. Honestly.



Yes, it is a cognitive construct. I justify this by the fact that a system in the world itself can be both an ordered set of everything and a chaotic one. We have no evidence for either the first or the second approach. But inside our minds (or inside the systems we create, like AI), a system can be identified and exist in an organized manner. Thus, the word system itself acquires meaning exclusively in the context of epistemology

This is a great question. I really enjoy these kinds of questions because at first glance they seem self-evident, but for me, answering them is always a challenge. So, I'll try to formulate what I think about this without using any reference books, based on my own reflections.
I don't even know where to begin. The first thing that comes to mind is that a system is a construct of cognitive activity. Can we assert that something is a system on its own? For example, an organism is certainly a system, but is it truly independent, not being part of an even larger system? This leads to the conclusion that a system, in our everyday understanding, is a conscious construct. Outside of our cognition, there can't be a separate system apart from other systems.
Second, a system is a collection of elements that interact with each other dynamically, forming something new with properties that no single element possesses individually. For example, a broom is a system of twigs. Separately, they aren't a broom, but only together can they sweep. This characteristic has two conditions:
The combination of different things.
Mandatory dynamic interaction with each other.
A third characteristic I would name is a certain stability over time. If a collection of something instantly falls apart into separate parts, it's hard to call it a system.
The final definition I've arrived at is:
A system is a cognitive construct consisting of individual elements that interact dynamically, forming new properties in relation to the individual elements and maintaining stability over time.

I was unable to read your article, unfortunately. You claim that value cannot be quantified, but the question arises: why should value be quantified or ranked in the first place? If the goal is to choose the least of evils, this approach is known as utilitarianism. Are you criticizing utilitarianism?

Theoretically, if objects were seen as having consciousness it could be argued that they need to be treated with greater respect. — Jack Cummins

Dogs clearly have consciousness and even will, as they can follow human commands, sometimes against their own desires, as some studies have shown. However, people who consume animal meat, for example, rarely consider or respect the consciousness of animals. If we often disregard the consciousness of animals for practical purposes, what are the chances that we would respect the hypothetical consciousness of rocks or other objects?

He argued that, in a crowd, the individual loses his personal identity and becomes a single collective psyche. We later see these ideas developed by Freud and Jung. — Alonsoaceves

Not only that. This judgment is more like the later work "The Psychology of the Masses." I even recommend reading the first work, "The Psychology of the People."