Excited to get into epistemology and ontology threads when they come up. Are you a mod here or just a very involved user? — Tarrasque
I’m not a mod, and I’m not even sure I’m very involved here compared to others. I haven’t even been here a year so far. I’m just some isolated guy who wants to actually talk to other people about the philosophical system I’ve been brewing for a decade instead of just writing it down in my book that nobody will ever read.
At face value, this seems patently false to me. Ex,
"Going to the gym today is good but I don't intend to go to the gym today."
Often, we recognize that things are good, but nonetheless intend otherwise. Conversely, it can't be said that we often recognize things to be true and yet believe otherwise. Alternatively, consider the guilty meat eater:
"Eating meat is wrong but I still intend to eat meat."
He may have come across a moral argument that convinced him that being a vegetarian is the morally right thing to do. He may still be a slave to his vices, or be insufficiently motivated by moral reasons. Nothing seems overtly paradoxical about this. — Tarrasque
The distinction I make between desire and intention is important here. Being a slave to your vices is a case of your intentions not being causally effective on your actions, e.g. you mean to do something, you think you ought to, you resolve to do that, but despite that you just can't help but do otherwise, because other desires besides the desire you desire to desire override it.
This is analogous to mirages and optical illusions. Sometimes you perceive something, and you know that perception is false, you judge that your perception is incorrect, but that doesn't stop you from perceiving it anyway. You perceive something you don't believe. Likewise you can desire something you don't intend. As just like you might not help but act on some perceptions even though you disbelieve them (e.g. recoiling from a scary hallucination you know isn't real), so too you might not help but act on some desires you don't intend to.
Once again, natural language is a little sloppy, and I know this distinction is not nearly always maintained in ordinary speech, but in the ways that I'm distinguishing the concepts, to intend something and to think it's good are identical in the same way that believing something and thinking it's true are.
In the case of the gym example, if you honestly don't intend to go to the gym, rather than just not desiring to and expecting those slothful desires to win out, then that would suggest that you think there is some greater good than going to the gym that you would be neglecting, so you think you going to the gym today is not actually good (because in the full context you think doing so would be worse than not doing so), even if you think going to the gym generally is good.
What I am concerned with is not the reason why a subject thinks something ought to be the case. I am concerned with what renders them correct, independently of whether they know they're correct or not. It is not an issue of justification. It is an issue of truthmakers. — Tarrasque
I get that, and that's what I'm meaning to address. The truthmakers of moral claims, on my account, are the appetitive experiences of things seeming good or bad in the first-person.
Not the sensory experiences of other people seeming, in the third person, to be having experiences of things seeming good or bad. Just like the truthmakers of factual claims, on my account, are the sensory experiences of things seeming true or false in the first-person,
not the sensory experiences of other people seeming, in the third person, to be having experiences of things seeming true or false.
This avoids solipsism or egotism, as I expect you'll object next, because you can either trust other people that they had the first-person appetitive experiences that they claimed to have, or go have those same experiences yourself if you don't trust them. In either case, it's that first-person experience that is the truth maker, not any third-person account of a fact that someone's brain is undergoing some process.
So, is everybody's appetite given equal weight? Bloodlust or sadism can be considered appetites. Some people have these appetites. How does your metaethical theory account for these? Are they not ruled out for being in the minority? If half of all people had bloodlust as a base appetite, how would this change ethics? — Tarrasque
Who or how many people is not relevant. But in any case bloodlust or sadism as usually defined would be desires, not appetites. Someone desires to kill or hurt someone else. That doesn't mean that a complete moral account has to grant them what they desire. But whatever raw experiences they're having that give rise to those desires, whatever kind of psychological pain or whatever may be behind it,
those are appetites, and need to be satisfied.
The thing about appetites, unlike desires or intentions, is that they definitionally cannot conflict, because they are not about states of affairs, just experiences. The trick is to come up with some state of affairs that satisfies all those experiences. Just like sense-observations cannot conflict, only perceptions or desires can, because the latter are about states of affairs, while the former are just raw data, and the trick in science is to come up with some state of affairs that somehow satisfies all that sense-data.
This is well put, and generally true. As a principle of epistemology, specifically constrained to physical matters, verificationism is about as good as it gets. What I don't see as plausible is the jump from "we can't possibly know everything" to "there is nothing outside what we can know." In fact, they seem to be borderline contradictory. If there is nothing outside what we can know, what are we failing to know when we can't possibly know everything? — Tarrasque
Think of it like this: There are no things that we could never know, but there are infinitely many things that we could know. Because we're starting with a finite amount of things that we do know, we will always have merely a finite number of things that we do know, and consequently infinitely many things that we still don't know. But all those infinitely many things we don't know are still part of the set of things we
could know.
Consider natural numbers for analogy. There is no natural number that could not, in principle, be counted up to. But we can never finish counting all of the natural numbers. No matter how many we count, there will still be infinitely many that we haven't yet counted. But those are still nevertheless in principle countable: if we keep counting we will eventually count any number you'd care to name, but there will always still be more that we haven't counted yet.
This is great. I like this parable a lot, and wish I had thought of a comparable example myself. Let's imagine that, for whatever reason, communication between these three blind men is impossible. Clearly, they are all restricted in the ways in which they can examine the elephant. If the only consistent consensus each can form is with himself, why is his judgement about the elephant not accurate? Snake-man can only verify a snake, tree-man can only verify a tree, and rope-man can only verify a rope. If verificationism about truth is correct, none of these men are wrong. Verificationism would assert that, in such an allegorical case, there would be no underlying fact of "elephant." If they cannot confirm an elephant, there is no elephant. Does this not seem as intuitively false to you as it does to me? — Tarrasque
If there was truly absolutely no way in principle to ever tell anything about the object they're feeling than the things they "mistakenly" feel, then yes, those things would actually not be mistakes. But such an impossibly absolute separation of all experiences would also be them existing in literally separate worlds, on my account, so it's not all that weird that one of those worlds would have a snake, one a tree, etc.
It's important to keep distinct things that are "practically impossible" and things that are really and truly impossible in principle. There are lots of cases where it's "practically impossible" to verify something, but still actually possible in principle, and it's that in-principle that makes the difference. If you extend the "practical impossibility" to ridiculous lengths, you end up getting ridiculous-sounding conclusions, and if you take it impossibly far all the way to complete actual impossibility, you get ridiculous conclusions like these three men existing in actually separate worlds.
Hard-core physics already deals all the time with things that are practically impossible but possible in principle when looking to resolve apparent problems with its models. Like, information seems like it could be lost in black holes, which breaks some fundamental principles of quantum physics about the conservation of information, but a possible solution is that a particle falling across the event horizon causes (to be loose and visual about it) ripples on the horizon which affect the emission of Hawking radiation from that horizon, allowing in principle the information about what fell into the black hole to be constructed from the "completely random" Hawking radiation, via the implications of that about the ripples made in the horizon by the in-falling stuff. Of course nobody in practice is ever going to be able to gather enough data about the Hawking radiation coming out of a black hole to figure out some particular item that fell into it aeons earlier, but in principle it's possible and that's enough to save the principle of information conservation.
It is important to remember that propositions need not deal only in utterances. We could, again, imagine that bugs have died in the shape of words on some piece of paper to form a valid modus ponens. Impression would play no role in our evaluation of it. — Tarrasque
In reading the message written in dead bugs, we necessarily interpret it as though it was an utterance. Part of what makes something an impression or an expression is the interpretation of the audience; really, it's more the audience's interpretation than the speaker's intention that conveys any kind of communication at all. A person makes noises with their mouth or marks on a paper and someone else sees or hears those and thoughts come into their mind in reaction, which may or may not have been the thoughts intended by the person who made those noises or marks, if (as in your example) there even was a person who made them.
So if you read what seems to be an impression written in dead bugs that happen to have died in that pattern, and you read it as an impression, not just as a meaningless pattern of dead bugs, then to you it is an impression.
My systemic objection here would be that classical logic works very well for us. An alternative account being merely internally consistent(if yours in fact is) does not give us sufficient reason to switch, universally, our understanding of classical logic to Pfhorrest logic. We would need a compelling case to conclude that when your position produces errors in classical logic, we ought to discard classical logic rather than your position. — Tarrasque
I don't mean my system of logic to contradict classical logic at all. I mean my system to be merely a way of encoding things in more detail, that can then be useful in making inferences.
It's like the switch from simple subject-predicate syllogisms to properly quantified modern predicate logic. Before modern predicate logic, a sentence like "every mouse is afraid of some cat" would be logically decomposed into the quantifier "every", the subject "mouse", and the predicate "is afraid of some cat". But that leaves it ambiguous as to whether there is one particular cat of whom all mice are afraid, or whether each mouse is afraid of one cat or another but not necessarily all the same one. In modern predicate logic, we would instead break it down into either "there is some cat such that for every mouse, the mouse is afraid of that cat", or "for every mouse, there is some cat such that the mouse is afraid of that cat". All the rules of logic that applied before still apply, but now we're capable of distinguishing these two meanings from each other, and reasoning about them differently as appropriate.
Likewise, in my logic, every ordinary indicative descriptive sentence "x is F" can be turned into "is(X being F)" and all the same rules of logic will apply to them. But if there was another sentence "x is G" where G is a predicate meaning that what it's applied to ought to be F, instead of treating that as a completely unrelated sentence, we could render it as "be(X being F)". You can do the exact same rules of logic to that re-encoding as you would with "x is G", but you can also see relationships between that statement and the statement "x is F" and generally other statements about x being F.
Sure, "Close the door!" and "The door ought to be closed." and "The door is closed." and "You should believe that the door is closed." all can be thought of as different forms of the same primitive idea, "the door being closed." Can we conclude from this that the meaning of all of the above is identical? Can they be freely interchanged with each other, and all be represented by the same variable in a deduction? Formal — Tarrasque
I certainly don't think those are all identical in meaning or freely interchangeable. "is(S)" and "be(S)" mean very different things, they just have in common the state of affairs S. "be(x F'ed)" and "be(you F'ing x)" are also different statements, even though the later implies the former.
This is also where I will further explore your distinction between "truth" and "correctness." Typically, logic deals in propositions that can be true or false. Validity is a property of arguments that lies in the relationship between premises and conclusions, where an argument is valid only if the truth of the premises entail the truth of the conclusion. This relationship of entailment is core to logic. You consider the domain of what can be true to solely contain the domain of what is physical. Other domains that we might normally consider to be capable of bearing truth, such as matters of mathematics, logic itself, morality, and theology, you consider merely "correctness-apt."
You do not seem to object to logical arguments being built around "correctness" in the same way we might normally use "truth." That you would consider a moral modus ponens to be capable of validity at all requires "correctness" to have the same relationship with logical entailment that traditional "truth" does. It seems that the concept of truth, as typically employed, you have replaced wholesale with this notion of "correctness." Under your account, "truth" has therefore been reduced in scope to refer merely to "physical truth." It appears, then, that rather than identifying a supercategory above and including our typical term "truth," you have introduced a subcategory: "physical truth." This is why I would suggest abandoning the "truth/correctness" dichotomy entirely, and just referring to "truth" and "specifically physical truth." If correctness does everything that truth does in logic, it just is truth. We can cast aside "all truths are physical truths, all else is correctness" in favor of "some truths are purely physical truths, and these are relevantly different from nonphysical truths." Since you don't espouse a correspondence theory of truth, you don't have to account for anything that nonphysical truths correspond to. This change would not be problematic for your theory at all. — Tarrasque
I don't have any problem with talking about "truth" in the broader sense that you are. I only substitute "correctness" because to some people, "truth" implies descriptiveness, and I want to avoid confusion with them. You're absolutely right that there's two concepts here, a narrower one and a broader one, and I don't have any particular attachment to the terms used for them, just so long as they are distinguished from each other.
The narrower concept, though, is not specifically "physical truth", but "descriptive truth". On my physicalist account, those are identical, but for the purposes of logic, they don't have to be. Saying that there exist some abstract moral objects is a descriptive, but not physical, claim. It would be made true by reality being a certain way, by it being an accurate description of reality. Likewise any kind of claim about the existence of any nonphysical things: they're still claims that things
are,
really some way. There are other kinds of claims that don't purport to describe how reality is at all, though; most notable, prescriptive claims, that something
ought to be,
morally. I think that those kinds of claims can also be true in a sense, but a non-descriptive sense; hence I try to say "correct" instead of "true" to avoid possible implications of descriptivism, but I don't mind at all when others do otherwise.
(Besides its conflict with my physicalism, I would still object to moral non-naturalism because it's still a form of descriptivism, and so still tries to draw an "ought" from an "is": there
are these abstract moral objects, therefore things
ought to be like so-and-so.)
I don't think that to say something is objective means it is incontrovertible. — Tarrasque
I didn't mean that at all. I meant only an expectation that it won't be controverted. If you expect that something will be contradicted by later observations, or is already contradicted by observations from a certain perspective, then you don't think it's objectively true. So if you do think it's objectively true, then you expect that it won't be and isn't already contradicted, from any perspective. That says nothing at all about your degree of certainty in that expectation, just that, on the overall balance of things, that is your expectation.
The idea that there are only empirical truths or definitional truths has its roots in "Hume's Fork," which asserted that truth neatly divides into the two camps of "matters of fact" and "relations of ideas." If you prefer, we could accurately describe the two camps as "synthetic a posteriori" versus "analytic a priori." I take it you believe something like this, since you said at the start of our discussion that mathematical truths are merely definitionally true relations of ideas. — Tarrasque
Something like it yes, but not exactly that. My fork would have three tines. In the middle are the relations between ideas, without any attitude toward them, neither claiming those ideas are correct to describe reality with nor correct to prescribe morality with, just that those ideas have those relations to each other. Then on one side are claims that those ideas are descriptively correct, i.e. "true" in the narrower sense; and on the other side are claims that those ideas are prescriptively correct, i.e. "good". I think both of those kinds of claims can be objectively evaluated by appeals to shared experiences, and the same kind of logic can be done to both, because the logic hinges entirely on the relations between the ideas, not on whether they are fit for description or prescription.
As long as information exists in the universe, it is empirically verifiable in principle? What about information that is moving away from us faster than the speed of light, at the edge of the observable universe? It is physical, yet empirically unobservable to us. Same with matters of the past - we are dealing with imperceptible matters of fact. If I say "Charlemagne had an odd number of hairs on his head," I might be correct on a guess. What would render me correct? If Charlemagne did, in fact, have an odd number of hairs on his head. Surely you wouldn't believe it impossible that Charlemagne might have had an odd number of hairs on his head? If you were to claim that it would be impossible for me to sufficiently justify a belief that he did, I would agree. However, holding these things to be undefined seems a harder bullet to bite than just admitting we can't know everything. Mystery is an aspect of the human condition, and we ought to become accustomed to it. — Tarrasque
I think the thing I said earlier in this post about distinguishing practical possibility from in-principle possibility addresses this.
If everybody had to settle on verificationism about truth before even engaging in description — Tarrasque
Sorry, I didn't mean that it's not possible to do description without first agreeing with verificationism, just that questions like whether or not to adopt things like verificationism are logically prior to any investigation about the world.
You might be interested in my previous thread on
The Principles of Commensurablism, which is all about my basic philosophical framework that this meta-ethics / philosophy of language is in the context of.
(I spent that entire thread trying to disengage with Isaac and never got around to actually presenting an argument for those principles, but if you want to ask about them over there, I will).
So, if we stipulate that nobody besides me and the other woman would ever find out about it, cheating on my partner would be morally permissible? — Tarrasque
The practical vs in-principle thing applies here again, and is basically the difference between "would" and "could". But taking this as an example situation, if nothing bad could in principle ever befall your partner because of your actions -- if there was no chance of bringing home an STD, or of you abandoning or growing more distant from your partner over this other woman, or anything like that, if you and your partner's relationship went completely unchanged, other than her being mad at you -- would you really have done something wrong, or would she just be unjustifiably angry? Sure her being angry is in itself a bad thing, but anyone can be angry about anything, and that doesn't automatically make the thing bad; my girlfriend gets angry if I put the spoons handle-down instead of handle-up in the dish drainer, but that doesn't make it morally obligatory to do it her way.
I know I'm weird in not sharing the inherent sense of outrage about "infidelity" that other people have, and it's not because I want to run off and do it with other people myself, but because I'm just honestly not a possessive person. I've been in open relationships before and not felt jealous, unless it actually had negative consequences for me (like, she wants to go spend more time with him and leave me alone and lonely). If you got rid of all the negative consequences -- which may not always, in practice, actually be possible -- then I don't see how it would be a genuinely bad thing.
To argue that it could not be the case just because it could not be verified is unconvincing. — Tarrasque
This is where a lot of my core principles come from. When we get down to questions that we cannot possibly find an answer to, but cannot help but implicitly assume some answer or another by our actions, we have to assume whichever way is most practically useful to finding other answers. I rule out solipsism, egotism, all kinds of relativism and subjectivism, appeals to faith, authority, popularity, intuition, all kinds of transcendentalism, justificationism, and the reduction of "is" to "ought" or vice versa, all on those grounds: those are things we have to figure out logically prior to investigating the world, that an investigation of the world can't answer but must assume answers to, so we only have practical reasons to assume one way or another, and any assumptions that would leave us unable to proceed with any further investigation have to be rejected, and their negations assumed instead. Which negations are the core principles all of this is proceeding from, discussed in that other thread.
The explanatory power lies in the observation that we discuss moral facts the same way we discuss other facts. We debate, disagree, and use reason to draw conclusions from premises. When we disagree, we believe that one or both of us are incorrect — Tarrasque
My account expects exactly that, too. Those are features of moral universalism generally, not specifically of moral non-naturalism.
Postulating that when we say "slavery is wrong," we descriptively assign a property "wrongness" to an act "slavery," and do so either correctly or incorrectly, is easy. It reflects what we appear to be doing with moral language, prima facie — Tarrasque
There is the quite similar situation of the predicate "is true", or "is real". On my account, these kinds of predicates (wrong/right, false/true, bad/good, unreal/real, immoral/moral, incorrect/correct, etc) are not describing a real property of a real object, but a linguistic or mental "property" or a linguistic or mental "objects": they're saying what to think or feel about some idea or state of affairs. "Slavery is wrong" takes the idea of the state of affairs where slavery is happening and says to disapprove of it, in the same way that saying "slavery is real" takes the idea of the state of affairs where slavery is happening and says to expect to see it out there in the world.
The only substantive objection you've offered to seeing things this way is the argument from queerness, which just asserts that moral facts seem too weird to exist. That's not something that would deter a pragmatist. — Tarrasque
It's not just the argument from queerness, but a more general physicalism (there are practical reasons for both realism and empiricism, which amount to physicalism, which rules out the existence of non-physical objects), and also an even more general non-descriptivism (there are practical reasons to reject reducing "is" to "ought" or vice versa, which rules out translating moral utterances to descriptions of reality, be it a natural or non-natural part of it).