Not sure I understand, but I don't think they "announced" anything. It just wasn't a topic for them.

The Stoic Sage is an ideal only, I'd agree. I tend to think the Stoic version of serenity was achieved only by constant practice, of the kind recommended by Epictetus and seen in Marcus Aurelius notes.

I don't know Buddhism well at all, but from what little I've read death and what it entails isn't a significant cause of concern or dread.

So, the Stoics and Epicureans we're secretly in dread and despair, but pretending not to be in order to obtain students? It seems unlikely, but I suppose it's possible.

I thought that was in comparing purely human matters to the will of God. But Ecclesiastes, or whoever wrote that part of the Bible, is one of those ancient authors I haven't read.

I don't think so. I can't think of any ancient author that wrote of anything like "the nothing" or dread, or for that matter anything like existential angst, or the fact that life is meaningless, or any such more modern concerns. I haven't read them all though, of course. They noted that the gods were fickle, and I'm sure didn't want to die. But dread or anxiety of this sort seems peculiar to the last few centuries.

I don't recall thinking about death much at all.

Thanks for the reference.

Our dread/anxiety must be related to us, I think, at the least, and we're in the world and probably qualify as entities. But it seems we can't have anything like a discussion about "the nothing" so that's that.

My thoughts, for what little they're worth. Our dread's right here with us, and for me it arises, like anything else about us, because we're creatures of a particular kind that are part of the world. I'd say we're the cause of our dread as such. If dread can be said to reveal, it reveals something about us alone, and if we encounter anything through dread we encounter only something about ourselves.

If I've offended anyone, I apologize.

It would seem to me in that case that he's trying to say something about dread/anxiety/fear rather than "the nothing." Our dread/anxiety/fear can of course be irrational or have no reasonable basis, but I would think then resolution would be a psychological or medical issue.

Not to Heiddegger, but to you, dear Street. I confess I was eagerly awaiting your appearance. In fact, though, I'm trying to explore whether there's an explanation for what Heiddeger fails to explain and apparently thinks self-evident: "The nothing" and our "dread" which manifests it.

More like Carnap than Dewey, I would think. But I'll acknowledge "the nothing" and the fascination "it" has for some baffles and intrigues me. For example, I would pose the question as "Why is there something?" There is no "instead of" alternative. This nonentity is seemingly profound and fearsome, and I wonder how and why it can be that.

Well, consider what it means to negate, and what negation means, and therefore what is meant by "negation of everything." Is it the denial of everything? The absence of everything? The claim that "everything" is false? Causing everything to be invalid? The destruction of everything? What could be more futile then such a denial, or to claim that everything is absent, or false, or invalid, or destroyed? What would be more futile than to be concerned what it will be like not to exist or with what it would be like if nothing existed?

Heidegger apparently thinks we encounter "the nothing" only through a powerful emotion--dread. That's how this thread began. Thus my comment. I address his statements, not yours. We "dread" according to him (I've seen "anxiety" used in place of "dread" in a different translation). Why, then, do we dread? Presumably it arises in connection with "the nothing."

It seems a rather long way to go to say, in effect: "It upsets us greatly we're going to die. Why is that?"

It's just the negation of everything. — frank

Really? If it's necessary to give that a name, I think "the futile" would be more appropriate.

I don't know what "the nothing" is, and it's not clear to me anyone does. I suspect if a definition is hazarded by anyone, it will turn out to be fittingly obscure, or if not that a rather mundane expression of angst.

I think I said we ordinarily don't talk about it, but regardless I would be wrong only if I maintained that we can't speak, or write, the words what is not. I thought, perhaps mistakenly, that more than those words was being referred to, i.e. an actual what that is not, i.e. that which is not. I don't think I've ever claimed there is such a "what." But if those words are what H refers to, then certainly we can talk about them, just as we could talk about that which is not-not-nothing or the nothing in itself if we were so inclined. However, we don't, except perhaps in a book or class or forum of philosophy, talk about that which is not.

Sure. And they draw us to think about what is not. — frank

I don't think that gets us anywhere, sadly, or at least it provides no insight for me into whatever it is that, apparently, isn't. Giving it a go: When we think about what is not, do we think about nothing? I don't think we can think of nothing when we think. We may, however, not think. Are we not thinking when we think about what is not?

Speech about illusions refers us to what is not. Per H these small cases of negation are secondary to "the nothing." — frank

Illusions, dreams and such undoubtedly occur and take place. They're a part of the world as they're part of our existence, explainable by reference to conditions and events. They're something.

If it was, it seems to me that with a nod to those who would point out nothing isn't a thing, he proceeds to treat it as one, insisting, wrongly I think, that we do so anyway. Even if we did, it doesn't mean it is one. Perhaps he intends a psychological point, but I think "the nothing" isn't something and if that's the case he makes no meaningful statements.

Is this his inaugural address commencing his glorious term as rector of Freiburg in 1929 or something else?

I'm pretty sympathetic to your loathing Heidegger but I'm fairly puzzled by what you're doing in this or any other Heidegger thread. — John Doe

Well, my last remark notwithstanding, I think I raise legitimate questions and would be inclined to raise them as to any philosopher. But if this thread is to be limited to those who understand what Heidegger is saying, I'm not among them and will withdraw.

But note the question faced by those who do rely on logic: why should we accept its force? It's a subtle question, but important to some of us. — frank

I think we have good reason to do so, but here I'm referring to language use. Now, perhaps my ignorance of the German language prevents me from understanding this. However, when we speak of "what is not" we purport to refer to something; we speak as if there is a thing which "is not." But of course there is no such thing. So we misuse language when we do.

. For Heidegger, what bad ontology calls "a state of mind" is better understood as something like Befindlichkeit or "so-found-ness" and a feeling is better understood as something like a Stimmung or self who is attuned to some aspect of a situation he finds himself in ("so-found-ness"). So it's important to keep in mind that Heidegger considers moods a fundamental method of human attunement to reality. If you have a problem with Heidegger on the question of "dread" it's probably the broader view which you're objecting to. — John Doe

I have trouble thinking of feelings as a "self" though I find the idea that moods and feelings reflect our interaction with the rest of the world quite acceptable, even apparent. Just how the feeling or mood of dread (or whatever he may want to call it) might reveal "the nothing" is a mystery to me, though claiming that it does would seem to me to assert that our interaction with reality reveals "something" which presumably isn't real. Unless, of course, it is, or is "real" enough.

But enough. I begin to feel the dread I always feel when encountering Heidegger's work which, though potent enough to me, is evidently insufficient to reveal "the nothing."

I'll take your word for it, though I'll note that I don't think we ordinarily speak of "what is not."

A lawyer like me has trouble understanding what he's saying at all, I'm afraid. We have our legal fictions, of course, but nowhere do we countenance "nothing."

So, what does he do with it?

Thanks for the references.

I'm not speaking of validation or proof, but believe that all we think and do is grounded in the world as we're a part of it, and to the extent philosophical propositions are contrary to what we regularly encounter and interact with the fact we do so renders those propositions questionable.

So "the nothing" (which we must remember itself nothings, according to H) is nothing (pun intended) but a feeling, a state of mind? Which is, one would think, something.

My point, though--and perhaps you already grasp it but I don't grasp that you do--is that empirical evidence can and should be referred to in judging the correctness of philosophical propositions, at least in some cases.

But as I stated in the OP, when a particular proposition reaches the point that it can likely be resolved by empirical evidence, then they are likely to become scientific propositions and philosophy will move on. — Arne

What are these propositions? What is it that philosophy has "moved on" from that has been resolved by empirical evidence? I think the kind of epistemological/metaphysical issues I mentioned continue to be addressed to this day. There are those who still address the fascinating case of the pencil in the water glass, still maintain that we are "deceived" by our senses in such instances and therefore can't rely on them, and ponder whether we are in The Matrix or are brains in a vat.

And I understand that those who seriously consider solipsism don't do so because of empirical evidence, but the question I have whether the empirical evidence establishes solipsism is highly unlikely.

Note the recently created thread entitled "The Probability of Simulation."

We expect philosophical propositions to be supported by reasonable argument. We expect scientific propositions to at least in theory be supportable by empirical evidence — Arne

Can't philosophical propositions be supported by empirical evidence? Can't certain philosophical propositions be considered more reasonable--more likely to be correct--than others, based on empirical evidence? Can't certain philosophical positions reasonably be considered fatuous given empirical evidence?

Take solipsism, for example, or any philosophical position which maintains that what we encounter and interact with from moment to moment isn't "really real" or can't actually be determined, or that fabulous, ever-popular tree that falls without a sound. The evidence that other people and things exist beyond ourselves, the evidence that we constantly interact with use things for certain purposes, successfully construct buildings and roads, etc., hurt ourselves when we run into walls, would seem to make such philosophical propositions as "I am the only thing that exists" highly unlikely, and would seem to indicate that it's very probable that the things we constantly interact with have the characteristics we think they have.

We have similar interests, then. I find ancient Rome and its empire fascinating, but am leery generally of comparisons with the U.S., as it seems Rome is referred to most often in that connection whenever it's claimed the U.S. is "falling" as Rome did and as a result of decadence and depravity--just like Rome, of course.

It's great fodder for the moralists among us, who usually are unaware of the fact that the instances of Roman history they refer to as "the fall" or the beginning of the fall of Rome took place centuries before the fall of the Western Empire, traditionally said to have taken place in the late 400s C.E., and more than a thousand years before the fall of the Eastern Empire, traditionally said to have taken place in the 1400s. Even after the fall of the Western Empire, successor states identifying themselves as Roman ruled over portions of the old empire for many years.

One of the things I find interesting about Rome is the longevity of its empire. I believe that longevity was due, in part at least, to what moralists probably find objectionable about ancient Rome; its tolerance for local customs and religions (until it became nominally Christian). Of course, its ruthless suppression of any revolt and the superiority of its military played a part as well.

Well, some quibbles, I suppose.

The Etruscans were not the great power in Italy, and indeed were never so far as we can tell united into a single "power" as we would understand it. They were a rather loosely organized group of cities in central to northern (not southern) Italy (thus, "Tuscany" in northwestern Italy derives its name from "Etruscan" or "Etruia). To the south were the Greek colonies of Magna Graecia. The Greeks held most of southern Italy and Sicily during the time the Etruscans were significant actors in Italy. Greeks, Carthaginians and Etruscans jockeyed for position in Italy, alternately at peace or at war while they traded and otherwise interacted with each other, in the years before Roman dominance. Even the Gauls had their hands on portions of the peninsula. The final Etruscan king of Rome, Tarquinius Superbus, died about 350 years prior to 150 B.C.E.

The last war of Rome against Carthage began in 149 B.C.E., so it's not really correct to say Carthage was defeated in the 150s. I'm not sure who you mean by "populist strongmen" but the Gracchi brothers didn't begin their efforts at land reform until around 130, and that didn't work out very well, brother Tiberius being beaten to death in 133. The struggle between Marius (a new man, but not I think a populist strongman) and Sulla, and Sulla's dictatorship, probably set the stage for the end of the Republic. Most of the big actors in that end, Caesar, Pompey, Crassus, began their careers as friends or foes of Sulla, that remarkable and very dangerous man. I think Sulla's dictatorship was the trigger, though somewhat oddly as he actually retired from power to live out his days in what we would now call "partying." He showed what someone with unlimited power could do. He led his legions into the city, the firs time any general had done so, seized power and kept it as long as he liked. He was Caesar's precursor, and paved the way for the Principate.

I think we have to be careful in comparing the U.S. to Rome. There's no question the founding fathers admired it and drew inspiration from it, but Republican Rome was significantly different than we are, even now. The Principate was established and sustained by control of the military.

It seems desirable to see things just as they, and nothing else, but I'm uncertain what it means. More specifically, I'm uncertain what Nietzsche means by it, as he apparently associates it (when addressing humans) with possessing a "stronger" character and thereby being without need of a "system."

An immanent God would be all things. I think a transcendent God is inconceivable, myself, and is in practice simply referred to as something which has attributes we associate with other things in the universe but claim isn't of the universe. Regardless, though, such a God would have no need of a system, I agree, but that is not to say his creation could not be described as a system. Why would it be "weak" to do so? Because it wouldn't be godlike?

If casual sex is immoral, then of course thorough, formal, painstaking sex is moral.

Well, I'm doing my part.

I was speaking comparatively, to the old PF, where we even had a bot (think it was called ModBot), made by Paul, that would quote Chomsky whenever his name was mentioned or something like that. — Posty McPostface

It was Chomskybot, I think. I confess I miss Chomskybot.

I'm not sure what you mean by "around here" but when I searched for "Chomsky" I came up with 253 mentions, which I would think isn't bad as far as mentions go.

As to what he says as quoted above, I'm not sure if he's addressing (1) why Americans are afraid of their government; or (2) "fear of the United States"; or why Americans fear (or hate) others, using Indians and slaves as examples. I think it's a confusing response, as I think these are different issues. I, personally, don't know what to say about zombies. I don't understand why people find them interesting. As for visions of the apocalypse, I'd be more inclined to point to the fact that the end of the world seems to be the peculiar fascination of many American Christians, who've been eagerly awaiting it for quite a long time and apparently believe it will be spectacular. It may even involve zombies of a sort.

Speaking only for myself, I think our government is largely corrupt, as it is so entirely dependent on money and so influenced primarily by those who have it and are willing to spend it in assuring politicians will do their bidding. So, I don't admire or trust our government. I don't particularly fear it at this time.