Observe: the same statistical math that leads you to believe that you will eventually "have to" result in a jar filled with only one color of marble (if given infinite tries) also tells us that inside of the dynamic, turbulent, swirling mass of the vat the colors of the marbles will tend to be evenly distributed inside the mass

That means that by the time that the marbles fall out of the funnel located at the bottom of the vat statistically they HAVE to already be distributed by statistical laws. As a result, it would actually defy statistical laws if at any time the statistical distribution of the colored marbles inside of the vat were as such that they would yield an entire jar's worth of marbles of only one single color. It's not just extremely unlikely that such a thing would happen, it is actually a violation of the most fundamental statistical principles. — Ergo

Isn't there an important difference between "tending to be evenly distributed" and "necessarily being evenly distributed"?

It sounds as if you've taken the general tendency and turned it into a universal law of nature admitting of no exceptions. I'm not sure that's how "statistical laws" are supposed to work.

What is the nature of the Self and what are its boundaries, within the constraints of this mortal existence and leaving aside for the moment questions of the afterlife? — 0 thru 9

To judge by the balance of appearances, it seems I am a human animal, much like the others I encounter in the world, or more generally a living sentient being. I see no reason to suppose there is some additional entity in the world, called my "self", any more than I see reason to suppose there is some additional entity in the world, besides this chair, called the "self" of this chair.

I am myself. This chair is itself. It seems to me that "self" is a bit of reflexive grammar; and that the nature of "selves" in general is to be identical to the things they are said by some to be selves of; and that the boundaries of a "self" are identical to the boundaries of the thing it is said by some to be the self of; and so on.

Some people use the word "self" in another way, to speak about "narratives of personal identity", or some such stuff. But it's never been clear to me why they use the word "self" to speak that way.

The thing that puzzles me is how do we know that two people are thinking the same way?

We've all heard of the question where my ''blue'' could be enitrely different from your version of ''blue''. Yet, we somehow (miraculously) agree on the proposition: the sky is ''blue''.

Taking this line of thought only a little further how do we know we're all thinking the same way? We could all have individual ways of thinking, entirely different from each other, yet we may (miraculously) come to the same conclusion.

I wonder... — TheMadFool

Suppose you and I have a hunch we're thinking of the same grocery store in town, but we're not sure. We might go there together and look. When each of us declares that he's thinking of a route to the place, we might check in a similar way whether it's the same route we have in mind. Or the same kind of endive or cheese.... Or the same philosophical view on justice or truth...

What is a "version of blue"? Which blue do you have in mind -- the blue of the sky right now out there, or the blue of that big old Buick on the corner? Our "versions of colors" appear determined at least in part "outside our heads", as it's sometimes put.

Our "versions of thoughts" seem determined at least in part in the same place. In many cases my actions give you a fair idea what I believe about the world, what propositions I'm disposed to assent to or deny, on the basis of my action in the world. In some of those cases, the actions in question are speech acts. We can determine whether we have similar thoughts about justice, truth, or works of fiction by speaking together about justice, truth, or works of fiction, for as long as it takes to get satisfied on this account. In one sense there is little difference between what we "think" about a subject or a proposition, and what we "say" (or would say) about the same subject or proposition when speaking sincerely. In another sense there may be differences. For instance: I may consistently and sincerely assert that some proposition is true, while consistently acting in some other way, without speech, as if it were false. In such cases it may seem my speech is inconsistent with my other action. You might do me the favor of bringing the discrepancy to my attention, and invite me to account for it.

Is it possible for a concept to be incoherent yet conceivable? Can you give examples? — Real Gone Cat

Do you have a particular sense of "conceivability" in mind? In ordinary language the term "conceive" is often loosely used, in a manner equivalent to "imagine".

In that loose sense, I can conceive or imagine p-bread that is molecule-for-molecule the same as ordinary bread, but that does not nourish human organisms when processed in the ordinary way by ordinary human mouths and stomachs. It seems to me I can conceive and imagine this p-bread because I can separate my vague idea of p-bread from my actual conception of the actual empirical facts about actual bread, stomachs, and nutrition. Another way to achieve a similar result is to just be ignorant of the relevant empirical facts about nutrition -- much as each of us today may seem ignorant of the relevant empirical facts about consciousness and cognition.

I'm inclined to suppose the conceivability of p-zombies depends on the same sort of ignorance, or the same loose conception of "conceivability". We can imagine anything we please if we're ignorant of the facts or willing to let imagination suspend the link between one abstract idea and our whole worldview.

What are we supposed to gain from such thought experiments?

Or what about the Platinum Rule: treat others how they want to be treated. Simple. — darthbarracuda

Perhaps the best interpretation of the golden and platinum rules makes them identical at bottom.

I believe that Polos wants what is good for him and wants to avoid what is harmful and not good for him. I believe that Polos believes that it's harmful and not good for him to be punished for wrongdoing. Therefore, I believe that Polos wants to avoid being punished for wrongdoing.

However, I believe Polos's belief that it's harmful and not good for him to be punished for wrongdoing is false.

Therefore, on the basis of what I believe about Polos and his beliefs, it seems there's a contradiction in his beliefs about how he wants to be treated: For he wants both to be punished (since he wants what is good for him, and I believe it's good for him to be punished) and to avoid punishment (since he believes being punished is harmful and not good for him, and he wants to avoid what is harmful and not good).

You can generate contradictions like this by following either the golden rule or the platinum rule. Neither formula resolves such problems, each formula leaves us with a similar problem of interpretation and application in particular cases like this one.

That's as it should be. To apply either rule adequately, the agent must compare his view of his own beliefs and preferences with his view of the beliefs and preferences of the other sentient beings involved in each particular case. The maxims in question exhort us to make this comparison sincerely and in good faith. They don't give us algorithms by which to achieve a definite solution in each case.

In the first paragraph Sellars positions himself in the conversation of contemporary epistemologists, and seems perhaps to align himself with Hegel. He stakes out a common ground, characterizes a contentious theory he intends to critique, and rebuts one sort of objection to his proposed line of criticism. In the second paragraph, he provides more context while giving us an idea just how much he intends to bite off and chew:

Many things have been said to be "given": sense contents, material objects, universals, propositions, real connections, first principles, even givenness itself. And there is, indeed, a certain way of construing the situations which philosophers analyze in these terms which can be said to be the framework of givenness. — Sellars

What is it, in this sentence, that "can be said to be the framework of givenness": "a certain way of construing", or "these terms"?

Suppose he means the former: The framework of givenness is or consists in a certain way of construing situations that philosophers have analyzed in terms such as "sense contents, material objects, universals, propositions, real connections, first principles, even givenness itself."

This framework has been a common feature of most of the major systems of philosophy, including, to use a Kantian turn of phrase, both "dogmatic rationalism" and "skeptical empiricism". — Sellars

Would anyone please provide a characterization of "dogmatic rationalism" and "skeptical empiricism" as these terms are intended here?

Why are these two "philosophical systems" given special mention here?

We might even ask: What is a "philosophical system" in the sense intended here?

It has, indeed, been so pervasive that few, if any, philosophers have been altogether free of it; certainly not Kant, and, I would argue, not even Hegel, that great foe of "immediacy". — Sellars

The framework, the custom of construing situations and analyzing them in terms of certain bits of traditional epistemological shop-talk, has influenced every epistemologist in the tradition Sellars is concerned with here, or perhaps every epistemologist simpliciter.

Again there's mention of Hegel's special historical role as a critic of the epistemological concept of immediacy or givenness. Again we anticipate that Sellars is aligning himself here with Hegel, though in this case it seems he's set to tackle a job he believes Hegel's left unfinished. It also seems that, at least with respect to the question of givenness, Sellars considers himself to be more closely aligned with Hegel than with Kant.

Often what is attacked under its name are only specific varieties of "given." Intuited first principles and synthetic necessary connections were the first to come under attack. — Sellars

These first attacks on intuited first principles and on synthetic necessary connections: When and where were they located? Who were the attackers, and who the defenders?

He's talking about pre-Kantian modern-Western philosophy? Was it Hume who first attacked synthetic necessary connections? Was it an empiricist or rationalist who first attacked intuited first principles? Or are we going back behind the West and before Christianity, to ancient philosophical traditions?

And many who today attack "the whole idea of givenness" -- and they are an increasing number -- are really only attacking sense data. For they transfer to other items, say physical objects or relations of appearing, the characteristic features of the "given." If, however, I begin my argument with an attack on sense-datum theories, it is only as a first step in a general critique of the entire framework of givenness. — Sellars

Sellars criticizes his contemporary allies: Many of them miss the deeper point, and "transfer... the characteristic features of the 'given'" to their way of construing situations they analyze in terms of physical objects, relations of appearing, or other bits of shop-talk.

What are the "characteristic features" of "the given"? How are they related to characteristic "ways of construing" situations analyzable in terms of the items of shop-talk historically associated with the "framework of givenness"? Something I'd look for as the essay proceeds.

At the end of section I.1, Sellars gives an idea how the essay will proceed: He'll begin his argument with an attack on sense-datum theories, and move on to a general critique of the whole framework of givenness.

I PRESUME that no philosopher who has attacked the philosophical idea of givenness or, to use the Hegelian term, immediacy has intended to deny that there is a difference between inferring that something is the case and, for example, seeing it to be the case. — Sellars

Do any of us here deny that there is a difference between inferring and seeing that something is the case? Or more generally, between inferential knowledge and noninferential knowledge, or likewise between judgments based on inference and judgments based on perception?

Or short of denying the difference, do we find anything objectionable or confusing about the distinction drawn that way?

If the term "given" referred merely to what is observed as being observed, or, perhaps, to a proper subset of the things we are said to determine by observation,... — Sellars

"what is observed qua being observed": What do we suppose this phrase means? Perhaps a weak sense of "observation", as in, S observes that p, though it's possible that not-p? (In other words, "S observes that p" is consistent with not-p; in this respect "observes" would resemble "believes" rather than "knows"...)

similarly, "a proper subset...": as in, the subset of "true observations"?

...the existence of "data" would be as noncontroversial as the existence of philosophical perplexities. But, of course, this just is not so. — Sellars

I presume this is the "data" of the "sense-data theorists".

Sellars coordinates the terms "given" and "sense data", and associates them with the term "observation". If philosophers used the term "given" merely to refer to the observed qua observed, or perhaps to a proper subset of what may be determined by observation, then the existence of "sense data" would be as noncontroversial as the existence of philosophical perplexities.

Dense rhetoric! It's the very existence of sense-data that Sellars puts into question here. Do sense-data exist, or are they mere creatures of fiction, misinterpreted marks in a logician's notebook? In what sense are philosophical perplexities said -- by epistemologists -- to "exist"? Which perplexities? Shop-talk about nonexistent objects? Shop-talk about justified true belief? About riddles of "believe"-talk and "know"-talk in the first person? Perhaps all that "exists" in such cases is talk and perplexity, sound and fury -- perhaps shop-talk about "sense-data given in observation" is another such case....

Sellars suggests there is an ordinary-language, common sense, use of this family of terms -- "given", "(sense-)data", and "observe" -- that is philosophically unobjectionable, but also philosophically unproductive: The unobjectionable uses only give us ways of stating (or restating) traditional epistemological problems, but don't entail solutions to those problems.

The phrase "the given" as a piece of professional -- epistemological -- shoptalk carries a substantial theoretical commitment, and one can deny that there are "data" or that anything is, in this sense, "given" without flying in the face of reason. — Sellars

Sellars alludes to arguments made by defenders of the epistemologist's "given", who argued that to deny there is a "given" in the relevant sense is to "fly in the face of reason". Not so, says Sellars: The defender's argument relies on a conflation of the ordinary, common sense, unobjectionable and uninformative sense of "givenness", and the highly contentious sense of "givenness" that figures prominently in epistemological shop-talk.

I wonder what prominent defender had suggested that some critic's denials would entail that there is no difference between "inferring" and "seeing".

Of course there is a difference between "inferring" and "seeing", replies Sellars; none of us has intended to deny such a claim. Nor would we deny that there is an ordinary, noncontroversial sense in which "data" is "given" in "seeing" and in "observation". That much we have in common, Sellars insists, planting himself firmly on the common ground of human experience and ordinary language, and taking aim at a brand of epistemological shop-talk associated with a particular way of speaking about the given.

Would anyone like to give us a bit of background on the history of the "sense-datum theories", and theorists, that Sellars takes aim at here?

I'm struck by the resemblance between Sellars's first sentence, and Hume's first sentence in the the second section of the Enquiry.

EVERY one will readily allow, that there is a considerable difference between the perceptions of the mind, when a man feels the pain of excessive heat, or the pleasure of moderate warmth, and when he afterwards recalls to his memory this sensation, or anticipates it by his imagination. — Hume

I PRESUME that no philosopher who has attacked the philosophical idea of givenness or, to use the Hegelian term, immediacy has intended to deny that there is a difference between inferring that something is the case and, for example, seeing it to be the case. — Sellars

Each begins by locating a bit of common ground in the conversation, by characterizing a particular claim as indicative of a consensus view, and taking the allegedly noncontroversial claim for granted as a starting point in discussion. Hume beings with a point he supposes "everyone will allow", while Sellars begins with a point he presumes no critic of the concept of givenness "has intended to deny."

Each employs a distinction between perception and another sort of activity. Hume draws a distinction between perception on the one hand, and memory and imagination on the other. Sellars begins with a distinction between perception and inference -- or at least between "seeing that p" (presumably a species of "perceiving that p") and "inferring that p".

Take the section-heads into account: Hume stakes out common ground in speaking about perception, memory, and imagination, to orient his discussion "of the origin of ideas". Sellars stakes out common ground in speaking about perception and inference to orient his discussion of "an ambiguity in sense-datum theories".

Perhaps it's reading too much into the texts, but I'm amused that Hume mentions perception first, while Sellars mentions inference first -- as if, I'd want to say, in each case the first-mentioned term is the one held to be less mysterious by the contemporaries addressed by the author, those interlocutors invited to begin speaking together on this common ground.

Another reach on audience: Hume seems to position himself, at least rhetorically and in principle, to be speaking with "everyone". Sellars seems to think he's speaking primarily to philosophers, or professional philosophers, or professional epistemologists concerned with the concept of givenness... or most narrowly, to professional epistemologists who are, like Sellars and Hegel, critical of the concept of givenness.

I like this online version of the essay. It has easily copyable text.

Happy to stumble into this reading group today. It sounds like the group kicked off with something like a plan to close-read two sections per week? What are we up to?