"Aware" is defined as "having or showing realization, perception or knowledge" by Merriam Webster online, and "having knowledge or discernment of something" according to the American Heritage dictionary online.

For me, it seems very odd to say that we have realization, or perception, or knowledge of the fact we've made a decision, or have decided something, or that we have discernment of a decision we've made or discern that we've made one. Thus, we don't often hear someone say "I perceive (or realize, or know or discern--or am aware) I've made a decision." Nor do we hear someone say "I have no realization (or perception or knowledge--or am not aware) of making a decision." I think it's very odd to say the same regarding a thought or feeling we have.

I think this oddity indicates there's a problem with claiming we're aware we've made a decision, or have a thought or a feeling. None of them are things we are or are not aware of.

Well, it seems to me to be the case that we simply decide. We don't become aware that we do so. Someone else may become aware that we've made a decision, but we don't. Similarly, we think some way about something. But we don't become aware of the fact we do so. If we decide or think, there's nothing we need become aware of, the nature of which we must determine ,and to which we must assign the category or characteristic non-empirical.

I can't help but wonder if these efforts at definition are misleading when we refer to becoming aware of what we do or are doing, as it seems to me clear that awareness doesn't come into play except, perhaps, in remarkable circumstances (sleepwalking?). The fact that we might in very limited circumstances become aware we did something doesn't mean that it's accurate to say we are aware that we decide, or think, or feel.

If “to be aware of” is “to experience” then not all experiences are empirical. As one example, I can enactively experience my decisions (illusory or not) at the instant they are made by me, for I hold awareness of them, but will not gain this awareness via sensory receptors. My awareness of the decision I make – here strictly addressing the decision itself, rather than the alternatives I was aware of – is not obtained via interpretations of what is gained via interoception or exteroception. The same non-empirical awareness may be claimed for many things introspected: thoughts, reasoning, beliefs, and so forth. — javra

I'm not sure what this means. I find it hard to conceive of any decisions we make (or, for that matter, thought, reasoning, beliefs) that aren't related to what is taking place, or has taken place, during our lives, and our lives consist of our interactions with the rest of the world. Are these decisions, thoughts, beliefs you refer to then something that we become aware of in some manner sua sponte (of its/their/our own accord) as it were? What is "non-empirical awareness"?

Sartre's still around, it seems.

https://existentialcomics.com/comic/333

Non intelligunt, vos can re publica quaestio ? — 3017amen

My Latin's very spotty. It seems someone doesn't understand something, and some sort of proceeding on acts against the public interest. That's the best I can do.

I have a copy of Being and Nothingness somewhere. I bought it many long years ago, and am reasonably certain I never read more than a few pages of it. I'm certain I will never read it, being that there is nothing less interesting to me than "Being" and/or "Nothingness." Hee hee.

I can think of at least one philosopher I wish never to be heard of again. Big John Dewey was lost for a time, but seems to be more and more found lately. G.E. Moore, perhaps? Comte?

Well, that doesn't really work, though, does it? The author doesn't speak of experiencing the anger of anger, or the sadness of sadness, or the fear of fear. Why then think that the claim is being made that when someone is angry they experience anger?

I admit that I wasn't aware someone could "give a yawn."

I'm leery, and perhaps weary (because I'm lazy?), of attempts at definition in this instance. Inclined as I am to think, with Dewey, that when it comes to emotion "the mode of behavior is the primary thing" and that emotions "emerge" from the connection (interaction really) between us and the rest of the world, I wonder whether we can usefully do anything more by way of definition than through consideration of how what we call emotions manifest themselves to the extent that they or the experience of them can be described. That may be due to the insufficiency of language. Even then I think definition will be vague and general, due to the fact they result in different circumstances and would vary in degree or character depending on the circumstances and the nature of the interaction.

I don't pretend to say anything regarding neuroscience (if that's the correct reference), but speculate that this may be a case where something like Pierce's "pragmatic maxim" would be useful. In its most famous or infamous form, the maxim states: Consider what effects, which might conceivably have practical bearings, we conceive the object of our conception to have. Then, our conception of those effects is the whole of our conception of the object. "Practical bearings" for me in this case would be what we can discern takes place (which would include what we feel as well as what we do, how we look, etc.).

I see someone posted some presentation regarding not being a slave to our emotions. Intelligent reflection on how, when and why our emotions manifest themselves is I think one of the bases of Stoicism, which is in turn one of he bases of CBT.

Dewey doesn't write in a way amenable to skimming for me. — StreetlightX

H.L. Mencken said that Dewey was "the worst writer ever heard of in America." I wouldn't go that far, but he's difficult to read, no doubt about it. He's worth the effort, I think, because he invariably sees us as organisms living in an environment and addresses questions raised from that standpoint, something I find appealing. Larry Hickman is a philosopher who I think is good at clarifying his thought, something not easy to do given Dewey's very dense style.

(To paraphrase William James somewhat: we don't stop our feet because we are angry - we are angry because we stomp our feet: although it's a bit more complex than that). — StreetlightX

Just for the hell of it, and for what it's worth, and because I'm a fan of John Dewey and this topic reminded me of something, here's what the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy has to say of his expansion or revision of James' view of emotions in an essay Dewey wrote in 1894:

"In actual cases of emotion, a perception excites a pre-organized physiological mechanism; our recognition of such changes just is the emotional experience: “we feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike” (James 1890 [1981: 450]). Dewey’s “The Theory of Emotion” (1894b & 1895, EW4) pressed James further, toward the integrated whole of feeling-and-expression. Being sad is not merely feeling sad or acting sad but is the purposive organism’s overall experience. This is Dewey’s attempt to gently correct James’ unfortunate reiteration of mind-body dualism. To understand emotion, Dewey argued, we must see that “the mode of behavior is the primary thing” (“The Theory of Emotion”, EW4: 174). As with habit, emotion is not the private possession of the subject, but rather emerges from the fluid boundary connecting event and organism; emotion is “called out by objects, physical and personal”, an intentional “response to an objective situation” (EN, LW1: 292). If I encounter a strange dog and I am perplexed as to how to react, there is an inhibition of habit, and this excites emotion. As I entertain a range of incompatible responses (Run? Call out? Slink away?), a tension is created which further interrupts and inhibits habits, and is experienced as emotion (“The Theory of Emotion”, EW4: 182) Thus, emotions are intentional insofar as they are “to or from or about something objective, whether in fact or in idea” and not merely reactions “in the head” (AE, LW10: 72)."

The Mill of On Liberty wasn't the only Mill. Perhaps as part of his efforts to free himself from the teachings of his horrible father, Mill in other works took the position that certain individuals, in fact the majority of them, should have a reduced influence on politics. So, for example, in his Considerations on Representative Government, he favored a system of weighted voting, with the "common man" being given one vote while the votes of others, being better educated, wiser, more thoughtful, more experienced, would be counted as the equivalent of four or five of the votes of a commoner.

He even supported Coleridge's idea of a clerisy, a kind of elite, made up of an awkward combination of theologians, scientists, scholars, experts, ruling the land at public expense. A kind of benevolent oligarchy, as it were.

A complicated fellow. I frankly doubt that he would leave decisions to individuals in a pandemic; at least not to most individuals.

Might we not merely be annoyed with ourselves, or find ourselves dull or fractious, in order to survive?

Thank you.

What exactly are the free speech limits here? Just determined on a whim by the admins? — Nobeernolife

Ah, "free speech." Some think that by chanting the phrase any opinion expressed or statement made is allowed, and is justified. The "right of free speech" is a self-serving conceit, don't you think? I wonder how people came to believe they have such a right. Are the authors of the U.S. Constitution responsible for this phenomenon? Could they have guessed that by restricting the ability of government (and only the government) to limit freedom of speech they would encourage folk to believe they have the right to say anything, anywhere, anytime, regardless of its merit or worthiness? I don't think they can be blamed, not really. Who would expect people to make such an inference? Perhaps there's some other source for this delusion.

House rules. It seems quite simple.

Perhaps, as unlikely as it may be, a person goes to church merely because that person enjoys platitudes, the recitation of the bland version of scripture as is now used, and listening to, if not singing, pedestrian songs. Perhaps a person wants to appear to be a Christian. Perhaps it's a form of penance to some. Perhaps someone has been dared to attend church.

The Christian Trinity is mandated by doctrine, specifically the doctrine accepted as orthodox and incorporated into what's called the Nicean Creed, recited with some insubstantial (pardon the pun) modifications at every Catholic mass. Jesus is "one in being with the Father" or consubstantial with the Father. This conception of Jesus makes it rather difficult to claim that he is the Son of the Father, which he is called in Scripture, in so far as he is the Father. Then there is the Holy Ghost, or Spirit, also referred to sometimes as God.

The Church was faced with a problem. Were there three gods, or one supreme god and two subordinate ones, was Jesus merely a prophet? And so on. The Church wanted to by monotheistic, and montheistic it became, the non-trinatarian beliefs condemned as heresies. But it was necessary to formulate grounds for the claim of monotheism, i.e. explain why there were three Gods in one God. The Church borrowed a great deal from pagan philosophy in its efforts to find a philosophical basis for its doctrines, but I think the justification of the doctrine of the Trinity at least for the Catholic Church has its basis in Aristotle more than in Plato.

Which means, I suppose, that there are "things" having the property of "impossibility" or "impossibleness." Why isn't "Why are some things possible and some things impossible?" the fundamental question of metaphysics? I assume because impossible things are merely a subset of nonexistent things.

I think we've gone as far as we can with this, but wish you, and others, good luck in answering such questions. Cleary, I'm no metaphysician.

But we're talking about existence. A "set" of things is normally distinguished, and distinguishable, from a set of other things, or another thing. There is no set of things which lack existence, i.e. which don't have existence as a common quality. We don't, and can't, distinguish things which exist from "things" that don't exist.

Perhaps my problem is I think letters are letters, and numbers are numbers. In other words, I don't think letters have a property of "letter-ness"; they simply are letters.

But I think my difficulty with the "fundamental question" is that it arises out of a very awkward, very artificial, use of language, and reification.

We may say that two objects are both red if they are, in fact, red. We can say that something that is not red is not red, but we don't say that it lacks the property of redness. Something that isn't red will be another color.

We can say, although it would be odd to do so, that a person exists. But we don't say that there is a person who lacks the property of existence, as obviously there can be no such person. We may ask whether there is a person X and may be told there is no such person, but we won't be told that person lacks the property of existence. A person by definition exists. We don't say that a thing lacks the property of existence either, if asked whether there is such a thing. We say there is no such thing.

Maybe I'm a victim of the OLP I was taught in the increasingly distant days of my youth (I tend to think I'm a beneficiary of it).

Context is important. I can easily enough conceive of someone unfamiliar with the Latin alphabet asking what e, x and z are, and being told they're letters. The same with someone unfamiliar with our number system asking what 3, 5 and 7 are, and being told they're numbers/numerals. In such a context, the answer to the question asked, e.g., that "3, 5 and 7 are numbers" is appropriate.

Now imagine someone, quite familiar with our alphabet and numbers, asking us "what is the common characteristic of A, B and C?" or "what do 3, 5 and 7 have in common?" The predictable response is something like "are you kidding me?" but could be something like "they're letters/numbers, you ____!"

The interlocutor in these situations, like the person being questioned, knows very well that A, B and C are letters and 3, 5 and 7 are numbers. If either one of them was approached by someone boldly declaring that A, B and C are letters or have "letterness" in common, they would likely, and rightly, think there is something wrong with the declarant, who is merely stating what is obvious or with the statement which serves merely to state the obvious.

the statement, "all objects that exist have existence in common", is also not a tautology. The claim isn't "existing objects exist", in which case it would be a tautology but about a common "property" shared, in which case it isn't. — TheMadFool

Well, I don't know. I have trouble understanding the difference between "All things that exist, exist" and "all things that exist have existence in common." Both statements are true by necessity. It's like saying "all men are men" is different from saying "all men have in common the fact that they're men."

Do we ask "why are all men, men and not women (or something else)?" I don't think we do, not really. I thing there's something wrong with such questions. The "answers" to them resolve no real problems, if indeed they can be answered with any assurance.

I think the question is a very artificial one to begin with, and that itself creates problems.

I think it's important to understand that when we ask "why is there something?" we aren't asking about a particular thing we call "something." We aren't questioning any particular thing. If we were, we'd ask "why is there that tree?"

As I noted, I think the question posed by Heidegger is properly (if we can speak of anything being "proper" about such a question) "why is there something" which I suppose is intended to ask why is there all this (the universe), or perhaps why are there things, or why do things exist? And, I don't think Heidegger is asking for an explanation of how all things were caused, or came to be, in the sense that science could provide in many cases.

Can we even ascribe a particular property to everything in any meaningful, non-trivial sense? If we say all things that exist have in common the property of existence we indulge in a tautology. But if we say nonexistence is a property of that which doesn't exist, or a property we aren't describing--we aren't really swaying anything.

People just want desperately o keep on living as they have or in a better way than they have. That's all that people can know, or describe.

I agree, and don't mean to say this is something of significance to Nazis only. I think it may be a general, and emotional, reaction to a loss of faith in what served as providing a reason for our existence for centuries, and a perceived need to replace it with some other reason.

Nothing is eminently real to the dying! Do we really want to insist that what they are dreading is impossible? — charles ferraro

It's interesting (to me at least) that in pre-Christian times, Epicurus was admired for his teaching that there was no afterlife. We simply cease to exist; there is no punishment, no dull, dreary existence in the kind of grey shadow world envisioned by pagans when eternal torment was not expected. As a result, the fear of death was thought irrational. We recall nothing bad happening to us before we were born, as we didn't exist then; nothing bad will happen to us after we die as we won't exist. Lucretius and others considered him a kind of savior as he was thought to have freed us from the superstitious fears which cause us to fear death and dissolution.

Now, apparently, we're horrified because someday we won't exist. Something in us has changed, it would seem.

Why is there something rather than nothing? was labeled as the fundamental question of metaphysics by Martin Heidegger. — TheMadFool

Ugh. No doubt it's already been pointed out somewhere in this thread, and certainly elsewhere, that this "fundamental question" according to Everyone's-Favorite-Nazi is rhetorical, in that it assumes that nothing is something, or a kind of something, which would otherwise be available if there was no "something." Accept the question and you accept the assumption. Or, if you don't, you realize that the question is, in fact, "why is there something?"

And this realization, I think, provides one with an insight as to what motivates the speculation engaged in by those who believe this to be a "fundamental question." Heidegger was, like Nietzsche, a Romantic, and Romantics who find themselves unable to believe in the God of their fathers also find themselves deprived of a time-honored explanation for life and source of the meaning of life. But they remain convinced that there must be a reason for the existence of the universe and, most importantly, their own existence. So, they deploy in pursuit of that all-important reason; a reason which, presumably, can only be determined by philosophers (as opposed to scientists).

Zevon was a unique talent, I think, much underappreciated.

The Dave Brubeck Quartet was unusual in its "whiteness" during its heyday in the 1960s. In the days when Charlie Parker, Coltrane, Miles Davis, Thelonius Monk, Art Blakely, Dizzy Gillespie and later Roland Kirk and Yusef Lateef (to name some personal favorites) dominated, it was something of a rarity. Not so now, I believe, if the performers I've seen at Chicago jazz clubs are any indication.

Regardless, I think most music isn't religious.

Well, are you speaking of art, or only music? Islamic visual arts can be quite impressive. Believe it or not, some might say, even, that the arabesques of the Alhambra surpass in magnificence such masterpieces as "Love Me Do" or "Basket Case" or if we speak of punk generally, the superlative "Never Mind the Bollocks."

As for music, classical music of the West, when not specifically religious as in the case of requiems, masses or hymns, or program music such as that of Wagner, can likely be described as a-religious if there is such a word. The same can be said of jazz.

Outside of that, I'll mention "The Vast Indifference of Heaven" by the late, great Warren Zevon.

Clearly, God said "discuss me" sometime or other. Why else would we do so, unceasingly and with so little to show for it, if not under compulsion? Thus is God's existence established. The Argument from Prolixity.

Reminds me of this gem:. "Backwards ran the sentences until reeled the mind."

Only that philosophers within the analytic tradition like Austin, the later Wittgenstein, Wisdom and Strawson were, I think, very different from Russell and the logical positivists. They didn't think it necessary to formulate an idea language, nor did they think that metaphysics was nonsense, for example.

I think it's fair to say that generally, they thought ordinary language was quite sufficient, and that many of the traditional problems of philosophy were the result of the misuse of ordinary language. In that sense they were critical of philosophical claims and theories. I think they agreed that a particular method--involving a careful analysis of the use of language--was essential to addressing philosophical problems and claims, and felt that many of those problems would dissolve under close analysis. Wittgenstein spoke of philosophy as the process of showing the fly the way out of the fly bottle, and freeing ourselves from the bewitchment of language, or words to that effect.

It's a point of view which probably didn't strike "continental philosophers" as anymore sympathetic or agreeable than logical positivism, but it is different, and I think it must be taken into account in considering the question "what is analytic philosophy?"

It's interesting that those responding to Banno's question seem to treat analytic philosophy as limited to logical positivism, perhaps with Russell thrown in for good measure. Wherefore?

Well, I'm no philosopher, as has been noted now and then--merely an adroit, vastly experienced and knowledgeable lawyer. But analytic philosophy is, to me, the philosophy I was taught in the halcyon days of my youth, which, thankfully, was not logical atomism or positivism. I would say it was, and maybe still is, a form of Quietism, a kind of tonic or vaccine to the more lunatic caperings of philosophers throughout history. I think of J.L. Austin, Gilbert Ryle, the later Wittgenstein, and what's been called the Oxford School of philosophy.

So, when he talks about a "god" saving us, I think it's along these lines, some sense of the spiritual with unfortunate resonances of blind ideological fervour of the kind he fell foul of with the Nazis. — Baden

Well, at least he speaks of needing a "god" to save us and not "the Fuhrer" doing so as he would have earlier, no doubt.

It's difficult to think of his Question Concerning Technology as anything more than a romantic reverie, isn't it? The "monstrous" nature of the hydro-electric plant, juxtaposed with the sentimental, even corny, image of the peasant lovingly placing seeds into nature's nuturing bosom; what else could it be? It isn't exactly a useful approach to the problems of technology, but then perhaps none is to be expected from someone who looks to a god, or leader, to solve problems.

Bitter Crank is quite right about the origin of Original Sin (tee hee), but those who think it, or the question whether Jesus was born with it, are unimportant are wrong, I believe. The doctrine itself has had great impact on the history of the West, as silly as it certainly is, by virtue of our enormous capacity, and indeed desire, to be very silly about certain things, religion especially. So from Augustine and Pelagius to Martin Luther and John Calvin (Calvin was especially fond of it) and even to the present, it has had considerable influence. The idea that we are sinners because of what Adam and Eve did according to the Old Testament, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it without God's grace, not to mention Jesus' sacrifice, has delighted many Protestants and Catholics for centuries. I think it has some place in Islam too, but I don't know how that works. The idea that eternal damnation is the result of failure to do and think certain things has served some very well.

As for whether Jesus was born with Original Sin, the answer is of course no. Because God, that's why.

Israel exists, now. That's not a matter of debate. I don't expect it to vanish and don't think it should.

I refer to its creation, and the reasons for its creation, in an area at the time under British rule. Part of that reason as I understand it was that the area was the Jewish homeland. If justification is the issue, the question I was trying to explore would be-- what was the justification, or support, for the belief it was the Jewish homeland at that time or earlier when it seems the notion of creation of a Jewish state came into play? If history can be used to justify creation of a state, I don't think it's of much use in the case of Israel.

America's my home because I live there, and always have. It's the place of my birth. My native land.

These things can be said of a person, without qualification, as easily as that. A group of people may likewise have been born and lived in a particular place, and live there now. That's their home, their native land.

My ancestors lived (mostly) in Italy for centuries before they began taking boat rides to the U.S. about 130 years ago. Is Italy my homeland? I would say no. Is it the homeland of all those living in the U.S. whose ancestors lived in Italy? Again, I would say no.

It's possible for an identifiable group of people to live in a particular place for centuries, and thereby become so associated with a place that it's called their homeland. I'm not sure that can be said of the Jews, however. Nor am I sure that centuries of association with a particular place in the distant past creates any entitlement to it.

Nonetheless, unless I'm mistaken, the fact that Israel exists where it exists, and the claim of some that it should expand, are sometimes justified at least in part on the belief that it's the homeland of the Jews.
I wonder whether that belief has any substantial basis.

That claim is of course a religious one. — Benkei

I understand. But I think to call a place where the ancestors of a group of people lived and were sovereign for a relatively short period of time in the Iron Age (Near East) their "homeland" is a misuse of the word, or at least an substantial exaggeration. One would hope there would be a stronger historical basis on which to make that statement, even if it is a religious one, at least where nation building is concerned.

Fools rush in, it's said.

It may be one of my many peculiarities that I think this way, but I wonder whether it's significant, in considering any claim to a "homeland," that a Jewish state, or nation, or kingdom, has existed in the area of Palestine for perhaps about 300 years in the last 3,000 years? Granting that there is and should be an Israel, is this pertinent to whether it should be where it was, in fact, established?

It's been contended that the Jews conquered land there and held it as a kingdom(s) (Judea and Israel) around 1,000 BCE. The Assyrians took over around 700 BCE, Babylon took control around 600 BCE and subsequently destroyed the Temple. Then came the Babylonian exile, which ended when Cyrus the Great took over around 500 BCE, and the Achmaemenid emperors ruled there until Alexander conquered Palestine and lots of other places around 330 BCE, Then the Seleucid Empire ruled until the Jewish Hasmoneans gained their independence, briefly, around 100 BCE, at which time Rome became dominant in the area and the Jewish kingdom became, briefly, a client or vassal of the Romans, but then was made a province, or part of one. Two Jewish revolts were then crushed by the Romans, one by Vespasian and his son Titus, and one by Hadrian which led to the destruction of the second Temple.

Rome controlled the area and continued to do so through its Eastern remnant until the 7th century CE, at which time Muslim rule began, with a lapse of about 200 years when the Crusader kingdoms ruled, and continued. Israel was established in 1948.

Under such circumstances, what is the basis for a claim that Israel was established in the Jewish "homeland"?

Feel free to ignore. I'm just wondering.

Perhaps the speaker is an antinatalist, to whom all existence is harmful, being full of harm, and thinking that white people are less inclined than others to acknowledge this, felt called upon to point out that a person's failure to admit the ubiquity of suffering itself is harmful to those who do.

There are some references in ancient sources to a person who was worshiped by Christians, which may refer to Jesus or may not. Pliny the Younger refers to Christians worshiping a person called "Christ" in his famous letter to Trajan, and notes that whether people are Christians may be determined by seeing whether they were willing to deny "Christ." Tacitus mentions a "Christus" from which the name "Christian" derives was executed during the reign of Tiberius by Pontius Pilatus. Flavius Jospehus mentions such a person as well, but it's thought that portions of his writing on this point were tinkered with by zealous Christians. None of these sources were contemporaries of Jesus, if he lived when it is claimed he did.