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."

First of all, I want to say that I was not impressed by the approach of the author you cited. "Realism vs. idealism” in their presentation is a mixture of ontology and epistemology, while phenomenology and existentialism, in principle, work on a different plane.In my opinion, this classification of ontological approaches was obviously carried out by the author for educational purposes. For me, as the author of the topic, it does not matter where the lovers of classification will place me. Creating something new is a process of going beyond any existing classifications, at least I want to believe in it.

As for your comments:

Husserl's phenomenology is certainly that of ontological idealism, where any belief in the world's independent existence is put aside to focus on human experiences. — RussellA

Heidegger's Dasein is also about ontological Idealism. It is about "being-in-the-world", in that we are not detached observers of the world but embedded in our experiences. — RussellA

The text you provided says:

...Although insofar as Neo-Kantianism was a reaction mainly to absolute idealism it could not entirely reject epistemological arguments of the kind that had traditionally led to idealism, especially in its Kantian variety. Hence idealistic tendencies can be found in Neo-Kantianism too, and Martin Heidegger’s later version of realism can be interpreted as a response to the idealism in Neo-Kantianism....

....In so-called “continental” philosophy, we might suggest, the main alternative to the idealism of the nineteenth century and lingering tendencies to idealism in both Neo-Kantianism and Husserlian phenomenology has not been any straightforward form of realism, but rather the “life philosophy” (Lebensphilosophie) pioneered by Wilhelm Dilthey (1833–1916), then extensively developed by Martin Heidegger (1889–1976), and, without Heidegger’s political baggage, by the French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1908–1961).... https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/idealism/

In my opinion, this is written quite accurately and agrees with the comment:

Heidegger’s Idealism puts into question the priority of mind, reason and consciousness, associating all of these with the Cartesian subject, which is still operative in Kant and Hegel. Dasein is more radically in the world than any notion of a conscious subjectivity perceiving objects can convey. — Joshs

In my opinion, we have gone too far, wandering in all sorts of classifications or approaches. Before you is the text of my work. Did you like it or not like it? What do you agree or disagree with? Destroy my arguments or approve them. My text is here precisely for this

There are two distinct lines of enquiry, the ontology of being within a Realist framework and the ontology of being within an Idealist framework. — RussellA

Provide a link to the person who made this classification and where you can read more about it

I was just wondering how we can approach the ontology of being, something that is external to our language and thoughts, without using language or thoughts. — RussellA

The question of how to approach the ontology of being that which exists beyond language and thought—is a central one in philosophy, since language and thought inevitably shape our perception of reality. However, a number of philosophical traditions, both Western and Eastern, suggest that being can be accessed through direct experience that transcends conceptual and linguistic structures.

In the West, phenomenology, developed by Husserl, Kierkegaard, and Heidegger, offers ways of understanding being through intuitive, pre-reflective awareness. Husserl, for example, proposed the method of epoche the suspension of judgments about the world in order to focus on pure phenomenal experience. Heidegger, for his part, in Being and Time emphasized the importance of Dasein (being-in-the-world) as the way in which being is revealed in immediate experience rather than through abstract reflection. Kierkegaard emphasized the existential leap of faith that takes one beyond rational analysis to the authentic experience of existence.

In the East, similar ideas can be found in Buddhism and Taoism, which emphasize overcoming dualistic thinking and linguistic categories to achieve direct contact with reality. In Buddhism, especially Zen, meditation practices are aimed at achieving a state of "emptiness" (shunyata), where conceptual differences between subject and object disappear, allowing one to experience being in its purity. Taoism, through the teachings of Lao Tzu, offers the concept of Tao as the unnameable basis of being, which is comprehended not through words or thoughts, but through intuitive adherence to the natural order of things. These traditions converge in the belief that language and thought, although powerful tools, limit our understanding of being, and that only through practices that go beyond them—whether phenomenological contemplation or meditative absorption—can one approach the true ontology of being.

In my opinion, the consensus that red is red for everyone is sufficient for everyday life. Let's look at the consequences: (although this seems a bit pragmatic), but based on the fact that green usually has a calming effect, while red has a somewhat stimulating effect on everyone, including, for example, insects, we can safely assume that red is equally red for everyone.


For example:
Elliot, A. J., & Maier, M. A. (2007). Color and psychological functioning: The effect of red on performance attainment. Psychological Science
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/17324089/#:~:text=Red%20is%20hypothesized%20to%20impair,outside%20of%20participants'%20conscious%20awareness

Both are valid concerns, but I'm more inclined to focus on how our predictability is being exploited. I'm not saying social physics isn't useful, but I'd prefer to see applications that go beyond profiting from our behavior. — Alonsoaceves

Is state activity itself a form of profit? Is creating harmony in society a privilege reserved for the elites? However, it is through technology that today's state management takes place. There are remarkable works such as Le Bon's "The Psychology of the Crowd" and Lippmann's "Public Opinion." These two books have played a significant role in shaping our understanding of public opinion management.

"Oh, gentlemen, what kind of free will is there in arithmetic, when only twice two makes four? Twice two will make four without my will. That's what free will is." (Dostoevsky)

Let's say I enjoy tickling a pebble. But will that stop a person from grinding a thousand cute pebbles into powder to obtain a chip for an iPhone?

What would change in our way of being if we were to think of things as possessing consciousness?

Thank you for the excellent essay! I'm so glad to read a contemporary author who doesn't succumb to the trendy currents that proclaim the "death of the subject," which is typical of movements like Object-Oriented Ontologies or Meillassoux's correlationism. On the contrary, you defend the subject, and I completely agree with your position.

It seems to me that today, the subject has become an incredibly fragile construct that is frequently under attack, and therefore, it needs philosophical protection now more than ever.

In this regard, I have an idea I'd like to share. What if we were to view this historical path not as a change of participants (subject-God-object in premodernity, then subject-object in modernity), but as a change in the methods of knowledge acquisition?

In premodernity, the primary method of knowledge was religion: knowledge was given through divine revelation.

In modernity, this method was discarded and replaced by objectivism—the belief in an independent reality knowable by reason. As Nietzsche said, "God is dead, and we have killed him."

Today, when we see the limitations of objectivism but can't return to religion, we find ourselves at an impasse. This is where radical ideas like the "cancellation" of the subject arise.

What are your thoughts on whether this view of the history of philosophy is justified?

To me this suggests that the human being ‘I am’ identifies themself as a being in the world, ‘I am that’. This informs the personality which reflects on what it is (It is that which it is). Which results in when that personality is acting in the world, it acts as a thing (that thing it realises it is)*. But this personality is its own interpretation of itself, so is never actually being itself. It is always its own idea of what itself is. It is always acting out (as if on stage), what it thinks it is, or would be. This means that what is experienced as the self is all the baggage from the past, being projected into the future. A future which is anticipated to be a continuation of what happened in the past. — Punshhh

This is very important. This is exactly what I am talking about at the start: Not "what I am," but "how I being." It is in this act that our above-mentioned reflections are realized: Substantia is not a noun. Being is not a noun. (which, in my opinion, is a given for languages that do not require a copula)

Is it possible to identify a process? Rather than identify, it is more accurate to compare. Compare, but not with a thing, but with a process.

Asking about "how I being?" we must have something as an example, an image, a template. In this way, one of the key signs of being (which I will propose later) is realized - involvement. That is, something can be itself only on the condition that there is something else or different, from which I deduce that any existence is impossible in a single instance, but is something exclusively in relation to another (Being together).

Based on this, the act of self-identification with something is meaningless. You can compare your process with another process, finding similarities or differences, but they are always different processes, separate processes, but interconnected processes

I had to make some simplifications to explain things to Russell.

How can you speculate about the ontology of being without using language or thought? — RussellA

This was the starting point for my article.

In no way — it’s all speculation, in the sense that any scientific postulate is, at its inception, a conceptual construct accepted without direct proof, but rather on the basis of its explanatory and predictive power. For example, the law of conservation of energy and momentum holds true in the overwhelming majority of observed cases, yet in certain quantum systems these laws are formulated differently or have limited applicability. The same applies to many fundamental notions of modern physics, including descriptions of particles and fields that cannot be directly perceived by our senses. If one assumes that the absence of direct verification renders a concept “nonfunctional,” then by that logic we would have to discard a substantial portion of theoretical science.

We simply ask: “What if it’s not at all the way we think it is?” — and then proceed to test the persuasiveness of the arguments for self-contradiction, falsifiability, and so forth, employing every known epistemological tool at our disposal.

I probably won’t surprise you by saying that I am neither a philosopher by profession nor by my initial education. Only now, after many years of working in my field, am I trying to earn a philosophy degree, seeking to substantiate my ontological intuitions, using this forum, among other things, as a tool for development. I am a lawyer, or more precisely, a specialist in legal proceedings (or, more broadly, a specialist in the process of law enforcement). Since my student days, when out of five hundred people in my cohort I was the only one who chose the direction of legal process rather than substantive law, I have always been more interested in how something works rather than what it is made of. Apparently, this inclination has unconsciously carried over into my philosophical pursuits.

It seems to me you are confining “being” to the realm of linguistic tokens and mental concepts, and therefore discussing only our representation of being, not being itself.

But philosophy has long asked whether there is an ontological reality — “what is” — that exists independently of language, mind, or concepts.

If you reduce being to a concept in the mind, you’ve already answered the question in advance: it exists only as a mental construct. That’s a legitimate position, but it’s not an inquiry into being — it’s an inquiry into thought.

I am interested in the other question: whether there is something that is regardless of whether we speak of it, think of it, or conceptualise it. This is the difference between epistemology and ontology.

I have already told you above, and I will tell you again. I am not diminishing your reasoning, because it is correct within your paradigm. You are talking about epistemology, but I am talking about ontology.

Before talking about the dynamics of concepts, I’d like to clarify: what exactly do you mean by “being”? Do you equate it with the linguistic meaning of the word, or with a concept?

I believe that these findings have a direct impact on the things that we have discussed with you in other topics.

For example:

Then there's the added confusion around the word 'substance'. As you might know, 'substance' in philosophy means something quite different from 'substance' in everyday use. The philosophical term originated with the Latin translation of Aristotle's 'ouisia', which is much nearer in meaning to 'being' than to our word 'substance'. Essentially, for Aristotle, substance is the underlying reality that persists through change. A substance is a combination of matter (the potential to be something) and form (the actual, defining essence of that thing).The translation was actually 'substantia', meaning, that of which attributes can be predicated.

So the upshot of all of this, was that Western culture adopted this rather oxymoronic conception of 'spiritual substance' or 'thinking substance'. Whereas, the ability to manipulate analyse and exploit material substance, the main occupation of science and engineering, proceeded brilliantly. So when modern people talk about 'dualism', it is usually something like Cartesian dualism that they have in mind, even if they don't know any details of how that originated or really what it means, And besides, they will say, the idea of 'thinking substance', which they will equate with 'soul', is an outmoded concept. Everyone knows, they will say, that mind is what the brain does, the credo of scientific materialism. — Wayfarer

Some people ask, "What does your ontology give me?"

The answer is: EVERYTHING.

The way a person understands themselves, for starters.
If you reconsider the foundation on which everything is built, won't it change the superstructure?

Here's what the AI found on this issue in deep analysis mode:

Greek Ousia and the Verb "To Be" (Einai)
The origins of the philosophical tradition, as is well known, lie in Ancient Greece. Here, the central term for designating essence or substance was ousia (οὐσία). Its etymology is of crucial importance: it is derived from the present participle feminine ousa of the verb einai (εἶναι), meaning “to be” or “I am.” This direct grammatical connection between the philosophical concept of “what a thing is” and the act of “it is” constitutes a unique intellectual foundation.
This connection implies that the concept of ousia is not an external abstraction but is deeply rooted in the very act of being. The nominal form ousia (a noun) carries the active, dynamic force of the verb (action). This suggests that for Greek philosophers, the starting point for reflections on being was inseparable from its living manifestation. Aristotle employed ousia in his Categories, defining prōtē ousia (πρῶται οὐσίαι), or primary substance, as a concrete, individual thing (e.g., “this man”), which serves as the ultimate subject of predication and the fundamental essence of reality. According to Aristotle, all other categories—qualities, quantities, relations—are ontologically dependent on this primary substance (Aristotle, Categories).
Latin Substantia and the Loss of Connection
A critical conceptual divergence occurred with translation. The term ousia was rendered into Latin as substantia. Substantia, in turn, derives from the verb substare, meaning “to stand under” or “to support.”
This substitution was not merely an innocent choice but a profound conceptual shift. The transition from a term tied to the verb “to be” (ousia) to one based on the metaphor of “standing under” (substantia) fundamentally altered the philosophical intuition about the nature of reality. The word substantia encourages thinking in terms of an underlying stuff or a bearer of properties, a fixed substrate, rather than a living act of being. This is the very “starting point of mistranslation” we sought to identify. This translation gave rise to a centuries-long intellectual habit of seeking a stable, unchanging foundation beneath the veil of a changing reality.
Historical context confirms this. Philosophers such as Boethius (ca. 475–526 CE), who translated Aristotle’s logical works, played a key role in shaping the Latin philosophical vocabulary. Following his translations of Porphyry’s Isagoge and commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories, a Latin tradition emerged that, for seven centuries, remained underinformed about Greek philosophy. This tradition was forced to develop its own vocabulary and concepts based on these foundational translational choices (Boethius, Commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories).
Finally, this conceptual divergence was definitively cemented in early Christian theology, particularly in debates about the Trinity. The use of the term homoousios (“consubstantial”) and the subsequent distinction between ousia and hypostasis required a strict, technical definition of “substance” that was entirely detached from its Greek, etymological roots. This theological dispute transformed the concept of a static substance into an unquestionable dogma, firmly embedding it in the cultural and intellectual foundation of Europe.

Incidentally I might mention that 'substance' in philosophy is more properly 'substantia', 'the bearer of predicates', than 'substance' 'a material with uniform properties'. The philosophical term 'substance' is actually a different word than the everyday English word 'substance'. Of course this is common knowledge to students of philosophy but it doesn't hurt to repeat it from time to time. — Wayfarer

This is a wonderful comment that led me to the following reflections:

The key Greek concept of ousia was a noun derived from the verb einai (“to be”). This etymological connection lends it a dynamic connotation, closely aligned with “being” or “existence” (Aristotle, Metaphysics). In contrast, the Latin translation substantia was derived from the verb substō, literally meaning “to stand under” or “to be the foundation of something.” This translation has been deemed inadequate, as it “reified” or transformed the dynamic act of being into a static “something” that “stands under” things as their foundation (Heidegger, Introduction to Metaphysics).

In my view, this conceptual shift had profound consequences for the entirety of Western philosophy. Instead of exploring being itself as an event or process, metaphysics became preoccupied with the search for a static, indivisible “substance”—an unchanging foundation of reality. A striking example of this is René Descartes’ dualism, which divided the world into two independent substances: the thinking substance (res cogitans) and the extended substance (res extensa) (Descartes, Meditations on First Philosophy). This pursuit of a fixed, foundational “thing” underpinned many philosophical systems. Martin Heidegger, critiquing this tradition, argued that the translation of ousia as substantia lost the original, dynamic meaning of ousia as Being, leading to the “forgetfulness of being” and its reduction to the realm of beings (Heidegger, Being and Time).

Thus, the historical precedent of translating ousia as substantia serves as evidence for my hypothesis, going beyond mere speculation. This case demonstrates how linguistic form can transform a dynamic process into a static entity, creating a dominant paradigm that process philosophers, such as Hegel (Phenomenology of Spirit), Whitehead (Process and Reality), and Deleuze (Difference and Repetition), had to consciously overcome over centuries.

Incorrect translation is not a separate problem, but, as I believe, a consequence and confirmation of my main idea. He demonstrates how linguistic features, in this case the obligatory use of the bundle "to be," can predetermine fundamental philosophical concepts and direct metaphysics towards the search for a substantive basis, which then had to be consciously overcome.

We can illustrate the problem of “mistranslation” with the example of Parmenides’ statement: “Being is, non-being is not.” In a language with an obligatory copula, this phrase sounds like a final statement fixing being. In contrast, the translation of the same phrase into Kazakh and Chinese, suggested at the beginning of our discussion, completely changes its meaning: “Becoming is, non-becoming is not” (Bolý bar, bolmaý joq) or “The Way exists, the non-Way does not” (dào yǒu, fēi dào wŭ). These translations turn a statement about a static entity into a dynamic statement about a process and a relationship. This is a clear example of “mistranslation” as a conceptual act, not a grammatical error.

↪Astorre The Latin 'substantia' was used as the translation for the Greek 'ouisia'. But 'ouisia' is a form of the Greek verb 'to be', which has very different implications than what 'substance' conveys. See this heading. It is directly connected to the OP in my opinion. — Wayfarer

Thank you, this is a great starting point for additions to the work.I dug up some stuff here, I'll share it later

Mary knows that in the future she will know new things, even though she doesn't know what these new things will be. — RussellA

Mary doesn't know that her reality has changed. After reading the book, she may learn that there may be another reality, different from her own reality. Or she may not learn, if she is convinced of her ideas and does not allow others (and perhaps she will start praying to her black-and-white deity)

But Mary may also like Abay, who claimed that the world may be colorful, but we, black-and-white inhabitants, all see it in black and white. How can Mary imagine this if her life is black and white? Perhaps she will start asking Abay questions on a black-and-white forum, demanding that Abay explain how she can understand colors with the help of her black-and-white thinking.

And so she tries to knock out of Abay how to do this, but Abay cannot recommend anything to her (since he himself understands that there is no methodology that allows this to be done), saying that she confuses Understanding with Essence.

In fact, no one can know if there is reality itself of which one's own reality is just a part. — RussellA

This is the common point where solipsism, radical skepticism and phenomenalism, and in a milder form, Kantianism, meet. The difference between them is whether they believe that external reality does not exist at all, or merely admit that we cannot know whether it exists.

Baudrillard added to this the idea of a world of "hyperreality" in which simulacra (copies of non-existent originals) replace reality.

Incidentally I might mention that 'substance' in philosophy is more properly 'substantia', 'the bearer of predicates', than 'substance' 'a material with uniform properties'. The philosophical term 'substance' is actually a different word than the English 'substance'. Of course this is common knowledge to students of philosophy but it doesn't hurt to repeat it from time to time. — Wayfarer

I speak English at the level of: gossiping with a neighbor. Reading a tabloid newspaper or traveling is enough. When I write here, I first write in my native language, then I have to translate it with a translator, and then proofread it in English and check what I wrote with a reverse translation. Thus, I cannot take into account the subtleties between substances. In my native language, there is no such difference in spelling, since the word substance is most likely originally understood in Russian in a philosophical sense. In everyday life, we use the word "veshchestvo". But, thanks for the clarification

Yes, I agree. In fact, RussellA, just now pushed me to another thought.
Let's say we have confirmed: The world is not static and does not consist of substance. It is dynamic and eventful. Then, the question arises, how to know it? Let's take phenomenology, returning to the things themselves as they are given. The method is good, but it essentially records the world in new frames.. Phenomenology allows us to clear our judgments from previous experience. Cleared. And again took a picture.

It turned out very interesting. The world is not a picture, ok. But how then to know it? What do you think about this?

I exist within my own reality, whatever that reality is. It is logically impossible to discover what exists outside my own reality using knowledge that is part of my own reality. — RussellA

Your "own reality" is not reality itself, but your idea of it. Human perception is limited: the eye does not see bacteria, the skin feels the wind, but does not determine its exact speed or temperature. We invent tools to expand the boundaries of the senses - and ontology and epistemology are such a tool (in the broad sense).

If we consider an object only as a fixed "snapshot", we narrow the possibilities of cognition. According to the main idea of my work, language itself - through grammatical structure and, in particular, the copula - inclines us to such fixation. From this follows a logical proposal: to think of an object not as a completed entity, but as a process. This changes the very framework of research and the way we interact with reality.

Then, in this case, when I am thinking about my own reality, which comes first, epistemology or ontology. — RussellA

What is primary depends on where you look from

It is logically impossible to discover what exists outside my own reality using knowledge that is part of my own reality — RussellA

It is logically (rationally) that we can admit that what we know is incomplete, because we cannot know everything (due to limitations). This is how science often works: something is first presented theoretically, and then confirmed experimentally.

But there is no normal way to talk about “being” qua being. When we talk normally, and make our topic “being”, we impose things in the topic that obfuscate and cover up what we are trying to say. — Fire Ologist

Here is what Heidegger wrote on this subject: “The meaning of the word ‘being’ is the most general and at the same time the most empty. But at the same time it is consistently used in every speech, and we supposedly know what it means – until we are asked about it.”

I agree with you.