This can happen to any thinker, but it seems viciously pernicious in Wittgenstein's case, being the style, the ambiguity of the text, and the demand to believe that this is a sui generis type of philosophical discourse that cannot be dealt with in the same manner as other philosophers... — schopenhauer1

While framed as a denunciation, this amounts to an endorsement of the resounding success of a man who said

I should not wish to have spared anyone the trouble of thinking.

truth is always truth in a language, under a particular interpretation. It doesn't even make sense -- heh, in this theoretical context -- to say otherwise, to say "just plain true, dammit!" — Srap Tasmaner

It seems to me that this is already duplex veritas; it is already a premise of quantifier variance. Hence it is part of the controversy, and someone like Sider (and me!) would already disagree with you here. Sider's (really Aristotle's) notion of "carving reality at the joints" is presupposing contextless truth, as does the idea of "ontological structure." — Leontiskos

I guess I had that coming, but it puts me in an awkward position.

I'm already on record, in this very thread, dismissing much of contemporary mainstream Anglo-American philosophy. Easy enough for me, dilettante that I am, but I've given my reasons: science stumbles merrily ahead, leaving the philosophers to argue amongst themselves. If there is something left for philosophy to do, I haven't been able to figure out what that is, and god knows I've tried. (There are people here, @Joshs and @180 Proof and god help me @apokrisis come to mind, who have a program philosophy plays a vital part in. I envy them their conviction, but I'm just a guy who thinks about stuff.)

But I can still play at philosophy, and it's an old habit. Even though the content of philosophy mostly leaves me cold now, I still enjoy the practice of philosophy, the challenge of understanding and evaluating arguments, all that.

So I could do that here, and we could play at arguing about the nature of truth, but my heart's not in it. I don't have a horse in this race; I'm just a guy who's spent an unhealthy amount of time around the track.

I could argue against "contextless truth" and "carving nature at the joints" but I wouldn't be arguing for an alternative philosophical position. And I'd spend a lot of time arguing against misunderstanding positions I don't even hold, just out of scrupulousness I guess. Trying to think well is about as much of a program as I have.

TL;DR. Bait not taken. If you want to opine on Absolute Truth, I won't get in your way.

I had a similar discussion with Joshs re truth being true withing a given metaphysics versus being true universally. It seems to me that if you tell a lot of people, "yes, what you're saying is true...but only in your context," you're actually telling them that what they think is false, because they don't think the truth is context dependent in this way. — Count Timothy von Icarus

Well. Several things going on here.

It's an interesting point, but how broadly it applies isn't clear.

I'm desperately trying not to become an expert on QV, but I want to start by pointing out something a little odd about Hirsch's formulation of charity that I posted before:

A charity-based metasemantics assigns L the interpretation that, when all is said-and-done, when every disposition to correct and revise is accounted for, makes the best sense of the linguistic behavior of L-speakers by making their considered utterances come out true in actual and possible circumstances, ceteris paribus. — Hirsch & Warren

Surely "true" here is short for "true in L, under I", but I find it odd they didn't just say that, since all the model-theoretic machinery seems ready to hand.

So that's caveat number 1 to your point: truth is always truth in a language, under a particular interpretation. It doesn't even make sense -- heh, in this theoretical context -- to say otherwise, to say "just plain true, dammit!"

Caveat number 2: it's widely understood that even statements of fact -- observations and such -- in the context of science are relative to a given theoretical framework. There's no pure non-theory-laden observation to be had, and no one pretends otherwise; rather, it's the theory that enables the observations to be made at all. (More Kant, etc. And absolutely every philosopher of science.)

Caveat number 3: Goodman, in Ways of Worldmaking, makes the point that reduction is essentially a myth in science, and if that's so, he can claim for his relativism that rather than it being anti-science, it empowers him to take each science at "full force", to endorse the work of biologists and chemists, for instance, without treating them as second-class citizens whose science isn't quite as true as physics. That's appealing.

Caveat number 4: one of your interlocutors is claiming to have the regular old absolute truth, not truth relative to anything, and it's only because of that claim that contextualizing their substantive claim is either necessary (for the listening relativist) or offensive (to them making the claim).

Well, what do you intend to do about that? Goodman's line is to say that their being right -- assuming they are right -- doesn't preclude there being other perspectives that are also right. (A picture doesn't invalidate a verbal description of the same scene -- just different versions, doing different things.)

I think you want to give them the respect of telling them they're wrong when you think they are, and that's fine. Pluralism doesn't have to mean everyone's always right. It just means understanding something about how you're right, and that there may be other ways to be right. (Note that I am not here addressing charity and Hirsch's use of it.)

In short, you can separate their claim into two: the substantive claim, and an additional claim that all other versions are wrong. You can take both claims quite seriously, accepting one and denying the other. If they want to fight about it, you're not fighting about the substantive claim, but about their claimed monopoly on the truth, which you have taken just as seriously and denied.

That's enough "How To Be a Relativist."

I am reluctantly going to take a stab at a real paper by Hirsch. I'll get back to y'all on his particular take on charity.

The aversion to disagreement is a child of the aversion to wars, and "charity" is just a mask for "peace." — Leontiskos

I wouldn't say that logic is the last line of defense, but if we can't even avoid relativism when it comes to logic then we're probably too far gone. — Leontiskos

I've posted this before but here it is again:

There's a touching passage in Tarski's little Introduction to Logic that I'll quote in full here:

I shall be very happy if this book contributes to the wider diffusion of logical knowledge. The course of historical events has assembled in this country the most eminent representatives of contemporary logic, and has thus created here especially favorable conditions for the development of logical thought. These favorable conditions can, of course, be easily overbalanced by other and more powerful factors. It is obvious that the future of logic, as well as of all theoretical science, depends essentially upon normalizing the political and social relations of mankind, and thus upon a factor which is beyond the control of professional scholars. I have no illusions that the development of logical thought, in particular, will have a very essential effect upon the process of the normalization of human relationships; but I do believe that the wider diffusion of the knowledge of logic may contribute positively to the acceleration of this process. For, on the one hand, by making the meaning of concepts precise and uniform in its own field and by stressing the necessity of such a precision and uniformization in any other domain, logic leads to the possibility of better understanding between those who have the will to do so. And, on the other hand, by perfecting and sharpening the tools of thought, it makes men more critical--and thus makes less likely their being misled by all the pseudo-reasonings to which they are in various parts of the world incessantly exposed today.

That's Tarski writing from Harvard in 1940, having fled Poland before the German invasion.

A priest and a vicar, old friends, were having yet another argument about theology. Finally, the priest said, "Why do we argue like this?" "When you think about it," replied the vicar, "We're both working for the same guy." "Exactly my point," said the priest, "So how about this: you go forth, and you teach His teachings in your way, and I'll go forth, and I'll teach His teachings in His."

intelligible — Count Timothy von Icarus

I'm not one of the people making these analogies, but I don't see any harm in distinguishing "how to play chess" from "why to play chess" or even from "why to play this game of chess this way." I can belabor the point if you'd like.

In fact, here's a little belaboring: consider Grice's distinction between what a sentence (literally) means and what someone means by uttering that sentence on a particular occasion. Now consider a question like "Why did you move the bishop to b5?" Would you answer "Because bishops move diagonally"? No you would not; you'd explain something about the position and why you thought Bb5 was a good move. (Ryle talks about this, the difference between your moves being in accord with the rules and your moves being determined by the rules.) ---- But also, a beginner might ask, "Why didn't you take his knight with your rook?" And you might point out that a pawn is in the way, and rooks can't jump.

Now consider the different sorts of questions you might ask about what someone said, or the different sorts of explanations you might have to give in different circumstances. Some of them, particularly with children, are very much on the "how to play" level, some on the "how to play well" level, and others are past that, and amount to actually playing -- but again, only in accord with the sort of rules you yourself were taught as a child. (Or not. Rules change. And sometimes you help change them.)

Your move.

what do you believe our heroes are promoting? — fdrake

Conceptual relativism on stilts. Which honestly I'm not absolutely against (unlike both @Banno and @Leontiskos) but I'm unsympathetic with the whole approach and nothing I've read was at all persuasive.

At least in other games, in order to avoiding even implicit metagaming in group play, there can sometimes be requirements for draws too so that players don't accept draws easily due to both being sure to advance on a draw. — Count Timothy von Icarus

Well, sure, and chess is notorious for this. But there is no game the rules of which can compel players to try to win.

Chess competitions also produce the opposite problem: it is an established fact that white begins the game with a slight advantage, but because of tournament or match standing a player with the black pieces might "have to" play for a win, and so take risks he or she generally wouldn't.

Even the existence of the rating system forces higher-rated players to take risks against lower-rated players, because a draw will cost them points.

All of that is external to chess itself, the play of which is perfectly settled, and has been for a long time.

I think this it he first time that paper has been quoted in this thread. — Leontiskos

FWIW, here first, which happens to be a post of mine you responded to, but I quoted it in the section responding to Banno, so understandable that you missed it.

The SEP article deals at length with Hirsch and Sider, but I won't be reading it.

just as we can only understand chess by watching it being played rather than staring at the queen under a microscope

I see what you did there.

Sorry. Eli Hirsch and Jared Warren, Quantifier Variance.

namely by way of differing introduction and elimination rules — Leontiskos

Their treatment of quantifiers is straightforwardly functionalist and unobjectionable: they note that if you can derive phi(x)Fx from Fa, then phi() is the existential quantifier in the language you're dealing with. So they rely on at least one standard introduction rule, and I'd assume all the rest.

Is that bafflement gesturing toward incommensurability? — fdrake

Not by me. Incommensurability is not a useful or interesting idea.

I'm of the opinion that there is something substantive here to talk about. — fdrake

I seriously doubt it. QV seems to be the love-child of incommensurability and a bizarre over-promotion of the principle of charity. I don't know why I'm even posting, it's so stupid.

Here's another sort of variance with its feet on the ground (since you mentioned OLP a while back): in everyday speech "all" carries existential import, but not in Frege's logic; in everyday speech "some" implicates "not all" but not in Frege's logic. (I did not say "entails"; the implication is cancelable, but using "some" this way is patently uncooperative.)

It is a fact that not everyone in every context means the same thing by "all" or by "some". But this is nowhere near the sort of variance our heroes are promoting, in my limited understanding.

Eh. It might be a crap example, and maybe there only are crap examples.

What interested me was two things:

(1) This shouldn't be the usual one side saying "There are more things in heaven and earth..." and the other saying "No there aren't."

(2) I like the idea of this exchange:
"You left out some values."
"No I didn't."
"But I can see that you did. That's why we got different results. You left out these two."
"But you don't count those."
"But they're in the data set."
"But they don't count."
I like the idea of each side being baffled by what the other could possibly be thinking.

Here's an example of quantifier variance from the wild, from the spreadsheet open in front of me: you have a set of data points; you can (a) average them (or whatever) talking all the values, or you can (b) average them (or whatever) after throwing out the highest and lowest. That's a difference in *how* you range over the given values.

It's still in some sense a change of domain, but it's change you sort of delegate to the quantifier itself, treating it as a filter. In one case "all" means all, but in the other "all" means all but the usual exclusions.

You could absolutely see analysts at loggerheads if one of them filtered, and assumed everyone did, and the other didn't, with a similar assumption.

Nothing to do with *kinds* of objects here, but to do with *how* we range over a collection of values.

Chess is interesting because it involves decision making under uncertainty, and it is moderately surprising that its complexity is just great enough to provide scope for style and creativity. Computers have kinda ruined it for me though.

Funny enough, international bodies tried, and then gave up on developing a single canonical set of rules for chess, finding it too difficult. Differences in rules—variants aside—will tend to only affect high level play (e.g. how a draw is forced, etc.), but they are real differences that have not been settled. — Count Timothy von Icarus

Do you mean this?

The Laws of Chess cannot cover all possible situations that may arise during a game, nor can they regulate all administrative questions. — FIDE Handbook

This is a catch-all for weird practical issues, a lot of which are covered, but shit happens.

I assume the reference to draws concerns this:

9.2 The game is drawn, upon a correct claim by a player having the move, when the same position for at least the third time (not necessarily by a repetition of moves): — Ibid

It goes on at some length, but kids in particular pick up on this idea of repetition of moves, which the rule immediately addresses.

What "real differences" did you have in mind?

It is night-time here. What is your point?

The way we use the word "berries" is what changes. Not the way we use "is". — Banno

Maybe, but it's not really "A is B" that's at issue here, but "Something is B".

Now how exactly do we manage that? Attributing a predicate to an identified individual looks straightforward, but in ordinary life we only reach for the existential quantifier in the absence of such an individual. (One of you drank the last beer. Someone left these footprints. There's something really heavy in this box.)

Is predication still the same thing here? Is this even predication?

I'm always inclined to translate these things in my head to a sort of "second order" predication -- that is, to a claim that some class (last-beer-drinkers, footprint-leavers, heavy-things-in-this-box) is non-empty. Not a claim about a thing -- as yet unidentified -- but a claim about a class. I think it's a habit I picked up in case the class does turn out to be empty -- I'm not left apparently talking about something that doesn't, ahem, exist. The class is usable either way, with or without members.

If you're looking for something you can pry open a drawer with, there's deliberate, strategic vagueness in the class -- now we're almost "third order": we want something we can use to do something that will count as getting the damn drawer open, and what that will turn out to be depends a bit on what we find. "I'll know it when I see it" means I'll define the class I'm identifying when I find a member of it. That's a neat trick.

I still don't see anything hereabouts to do with existence. Classes turned up, and they're supposed to be an ontological conundrum, but they're just a way of talking about my behavior, my predictions about what will work, what I decide and then actually try to do. They're handy for the mental work we do, as you suggest, whatever purpose we're pursuing at the moment.

because there are eight berries that exist — Count Timothy von Icarus

Consider that berries grow, ripen, and then rot. Can you think of an edge case where it's not clear whether something counts as a berry?

@Banno

the Principle of Charity and assume that what they said was correct — Banno

As it happens, this is what the thread should be about.

the lack of a coherent explanation of what "quantifier variance" might be — Banno

It's a side effect of a particular version of charity:

A charity-based metasemantics assigns L the interpretation that, when all is said-and-done, when every disposition to correct and revise is accounted for, makes the best sense of the linguistic behavior of L-speakers by making their considered utterances come out true in actual and possible circumstances, ceteris paribus. — Hirsch & Warren

Modest variance says that there are many distinct quantifier languages — quantifier languages where translating one language’s quantifier into the other’s results in massive failures of charity. This follows almost immediately from top down charity and our account of quantifiers. — Ibid

It's not far from here to ontological pluralism or what have you.

@Leontiskos

I almost posted about this the other day, but decided I didn't care enough. This charity metasemantics they've cooked up, I mean, it's the sort of crap mainstream (analytic) philosophy has been getting up to for a long time. It's depressing.

I think it's a holdover from an earlier and more exciting time when philosophers thought there were maybe a few levels of logic and categorization between our minds and the rest of the world. If you were clever enough, you might work out a reasonable toy model of how we assemble patches of color into objects, or parse the intentions of someone speaking to us. Alas, it's not a few layers, but hundreds, thousands, millions. How living organisms manage to be sensitive and responsive to their environment and their own state is orders of magnitude more complex than the stuff philosophers come up with.

All of which is why I agree halfway with this:

the now common assumption that reason is nothing more than discursive reason — Leontiskos

Someone who thinks that all truth is known discursively will believe that discursive-syllogistic explanation is always possible, and that where such explanation fails knowledge does not exist. — Leontiskos

The obvious problem with this, as Aristotle notes, is that logical demonstration is not self-supporting. Logical demonstration presupposes simple or primitive truths in order to get off the ground. — Leontiskos

ratiocination presupposes intellection (that discursive reason presupposes non-discursive acts of the intellect) — Leontiskos

But it's toward the end there that I disagree. Yes ratiocination rests on something that isn't that, but I wouldn't call what it rests on intellection, which seems to suggest something like the grasping of self-evident truth, or something.

Instead, as you know, I'm with Hume, and I think modern science is bearing him out. Down below whatever reasoning we do is habit and custom and our natural inheritance. When I described the brain as computational before, I may not have placed enough emphasis on the fact that it's all probabilities. The brain is not a deterministic, clockwork machine, but a probabilistic one, and again Hume intuited this -- all our reasoning concerning matters of fact is merely probable. He was horrified enough to discover that reason rested upon something not describable as reason, but I think nowadays we have to go even further: Ramsey was headed this way, linking logic with probability, and suggesting that inference rules were essentially habitual.

So yes, I'm inclined to agree that there is a sort of fatal flaw in much modern philosophy -- the pointless and unrealistic model building like we see here -- and that it can diagnosed as a failure to understand what the foundation of reasoning really is, but I see that foundation quite differently.

What's more, I'm inclined to think that this

I believe this is largely a result of the democratization and pragmatization of reason, where questions of consensus and therefore adjudication become supreme. — Leontiskos

describes much of the nature and use of reason as we understand it. (See Mercier & Sperber, The Enigma of Reason for a related view, and the beginnings of research to support it.)

I am planning to take a hiatus from TPF. — Leontiskos

Good call. Think I'll scarper as well. Cheers, everyone.

It is a common view these days — Leontiskos

Glad to hear you say that. I'm not innovating here, I think, just trying to connect the dots.

I don't think logic is inherently mathematical, I don't think "mathematics is good at treating of [everything]," and I don't think mathematical logic is necessarily the epitome of logic. In fact at my university mathematical logic was very much acknowledged to be but one kind of logic, and I think this is correct. — Leontiskos

I get that. I'm using "mathematics" pretty broadly. What I have in mind is the mathematical impulse, the attempt to understand things by schematizing them, abstracting, simplifying, modeling. A musical scale is such an abstraction, for example, and "mathematical" in the sense I mean.

You're right, of course, that as commonly used the phrase "mathematical logic" is just a branch of mathematics, but to me logic is very much a product of the mathematical impulse, as when Aristotle abstracts away the content of arguments and looks only at their form -- and then follows up by classifying those forms! And we end up with the square of opposition, which is a blatantly mathematical structure. You see what I mean, I'm sure.

Aristotle was more interested in representing the way the human mind draws conclusions than adhering to an a priori mathematical paradigm — Leontiskos

As am I, in fact. I think the foundation of logic is the idea that one thought "follows from" another, and this in many more senses than are covered by material implication, for example. But I also think this is so because this is how our brains work, though we are not privy to the details. Hume noticed this, that the mind passes in some cases freely and in other cases with difficulty from one thought to another.

But I still say the foundation here is mathematical because with the brain we're really talking about prediction, and thus probability. The brain is a prediction engine that is constantly recalibrating. It instantiates a machine for calculating probabilities. The "following from" here is neural activity, which is messy and complicated, but has effects that are in principle measurable, and whose functioning itself is parametrized (concentration of ions and neurotransmitters, number of incoming connections and their level of excitation, distance to be covered by transmission, and so on).

this seems to prove the point insofar as Quine's notion of existence (and quantification) differs from the approach of neuroscience — Leontiskos

But his just thinking that doesn't get you there, to my mind. He was mistaken -- only because he was too early, really, and I think he'd be fine with how cognitive science has naturalized epistemology -- but does that eo ipso ground an alternative but legitimate meaning? Does QV amount to a claim that no one can be mistaken?

You seem to be dragging me into the actual topic, but alas my lunch break is over.

Thanks for your thoughts! Have to work, but I'll definitely get back to you after a bit.

Mathematics has this double role: it's the ideal we strive towards in our thinking, but it's what enables our thinking in the first place. Out brains have already been doing the sort of clarification and simplification we want when we model something mathematically -- so of course it feels like we're discovering that structure, not inventing it; we're just doing more of the same.

That's my working hypothesis anyway. Philosophy is almost entirely puzzling out the nature of idealization and its role in our thinking, and this approach makes some sense of that. To me at least.

each object is an instantiation of one — Janus

Is this a property it acquires naturally, along with its chemical composition, its mass, etc?

Or do we deem each object to be an instantiation of One?

@Count Timothy von Icarus @Wayfarer @Leontiskos et al.
Here's what I think, if you're interested.

Kant -- damn his eyes -- was right: we only understand of the world what we put into it.

We distinguish one bit from another, sort those bits and classify them, even paint them different colors to make it easier to keep track of them.

Mathematics is, first of all, our analysis of what we're doing when we do all that. More than that, it's a simplification and idealization of the process, to make it faster and more efficient.

It's all signal processing. The brain is not fundamentally interested in the world, but in the maintenance of the body it's responsible for, and the signals the brain deals with are about that body: they have an origin and and a type and a strength, and so on. Some of this is instrumented, so there's a reflective capacity to see how all these signals come together, and that's the beginning of mathematics.

Individual neurons themselves do this in microcosm, actively resisting firing until they absolutely have to, to sharpen and compress their signals from the analog toward the digital. And there's layer upon layer upon layer of this, simplifications of simplifications of simplifications. (The world itself is computationally very far away.)

Signals always have noise, and it's an efficient simplification not to pass through to the rest of the system the whole mess with a peak around 7 MHz and just say "7". We do this in well-known ways with phonemes, for example, counting a considerable range of sounds someone might make as an "r" or an "a".

Simplification and idealization makes it all possible, and that's mathematics. The world is in essence a mathematical construction of our brains, so of course it's a bit puzzling whether math is "in here" or "out there".

That's the gist, or part of a gist, of my view.

Yes, and this is an important way that the logic reflects the commitments or intentions of its creators. It is not logic qua logic; it is logic qua mathematics. — Leontiskos

Well, I brought up the issue, so I'm bound to say there's something to this.

On the other hand, I'm hesitant to endorse what you say here because mathematics is special, and there's a sense in which mathematics is the goal of logic, the goal of thinking as such. (I think there are hints of the excitement of this discovery almost everywhere in Plato where he rattles off the list -- argument, mathematics, astronomy, and so on.) --- And that means "qua mathematics" is not generally a restriction of anything, a limiting of it to this one domain, but an idealization of it.

And it's historically backwards -- but maybe that was deliberate? Frege was trying to reduce mathematics to logic, not the other way around, and that turns out not quite to work, but in trying to do so, he came up with a formalization of logic which could be extremely useful to mathematics rather than providing its foundation. A sort of logic "adapted to" mathematics, or to the needs of mathematics, which is what I was suggesting --- although this time around I've already suggested this isn't necessarily a deformation of logic by focusing on a limited domain, so much as an idealization of logic by focusing on the domain that most cleanly, we might say, represents human thought. And as it happens, I think Frege thought so as well. I think he was mostly of the opinion that natural languages are too much of a mess to do sound work in.

Do all those steps amount to "logic qua mathematics"? Maybe kinda, in a dyer's hand sort of way. There's a lot that makes it look like a branch of mathematics, and the advanced stuff tends to be called "mathematical logic" and get taught in math departments. But that's a deeply tricky business because basic logic is the fundamental tool of everything done in mathematics, absolutely everything -- it's just taken as given at lower levels of learning, without any suggestion that you're actually borrowing from some rarefied advanced field of mathematics.

So I think advanced "mathematical logic" is something like "mathematized logic" -- that's qua-ish maybe in the sense you meant -- but what that means is applying the tools and techniques of mathematics to the given material that is logic, which mathematics can treat of, because mathematics is good at treating of anything. (That's the whole point.) And one of the techniques mathematics brings to bear in treating of logic is, well, logic, because mathematics was just borrowing it for free in the first place.

Still agree?

I actually think ↪fdrake's post may be most instructive and fruitful. — Leontiskos

Wouldn't be the first time, but he was addressing the topic, and I have yet to develop an interest in doing that.

Now if quantifier variance is occurring—superable or insuperable—then the existential quantifier is doing more than presupposing a univocal notion of existence. Or, if you like, the two secretly competing meanings of existential quantification are each “presupposing” a different notion of existence, and this is the cause of the disagreement. Thus arises the very difficult question of how to adjudicate two different notions of existence, and this is the point of mine to which you initially objected. — Leontiskos

Do as you like, I just don't see the point. We can talk about existence all we like without dragging quantifiers into it, and people -- they're always wandering around the forum -- who get worked up about the meaning of the "existential quantifier" are generally just confused by the name (a name I note Finn and Bueno would like to retire).

It's a funny thing. This is all Quine's fault, as I noted. "To be is to be the value of a bound variable" comes out as a deflationary slogan, but what we was really arguing for was a particular version of univocity: the idea was that if you quantify over it, you're committed to it existing, and he meant "existing" with the ordinary everyday meaning; what he was arguing against was giving some special twilight status to "theoretical entities". If your model quantifies over quarks, say, then your model says quarks are real things, and it's no good saying they're just artifacts of the model or something. --- The reason this is amusing is that all these decades later the consensus of neuroscientists and cognitive psychologists, so far as I can tell, is that absolutely everything we attribute existence to in the ordinary everyday sense -- medium-sized dry goods included -- is an "artifact of the model" or a "theoretical entity", so the threat to univocity Quine was addressing never actually existed, if only because the everyday meaning of "exist", the one Quine wanted to stick with, is in fact the "twilight" meaning he wanted to tamp down. And so it goes.

What do you think of the claim that discrete entities only exist as a product of minds? That is, "physics shows us a world that is just a single continuous process, with no truly isolated systems, where everything interacts with everything else, and so discrete things like apples, cars, etc. would exist solely as 'products of the mind/social practices.'" — Count Timothy von Icarus

I don't think we are any more justified in saying this than we are in saying the world is full of distinct objects. All we have is signal processing. Is the source one signal? Two? Two trillion? How can you tell when you're receiving and analysing them all at once? It makes a difference in your metaphysics, but in nothing else at all that I can see.

We don't see individual objects in isolation, but as embedded in and different from their surroundings, so difference if not a property of some putative completely isolated object, but a property it displays in its situatedness. — Janus

And you don't see any circularity here?

Remember the issue was whether number could be a property of an object, and it just obviously can't unless sets count as objects. It's really straightforward and it pissed Quine off considerably.



But then you brought in this other stuff about "diversity, sameness, and difference being real" which just begs another pile of questions. I'm at a loss.

If diversity, sameness and difference are acknowledged as being real — Janus

But what does that mean? Is "different" a property an object can have?

Yes, I'm being a little cagey, but you can do better than a shrug.

(And that's all for me tonight.)

number would be a real attribute of objects — Janus

That's a tough sell, though. It was one of Frege's brilliant examples, that the logical form of "The king's carriage was pulled by black horses" is different from the logical form of "The king's carriage was pulled by three horses." This is the guy who (independently of Peirce, I believe) is going to invent our modern regime of quantifiers, because he noticed things like this.

Well yeah, Frege was a platonist. He was a pretty good logician, but he wasn't a god, and platonism is an inevitable and understandable mistake. :smiley-face:

There are simple algorithms for determining whether a number is prime; it's a mechanical process that doesn't require what you call "rational insight — Srap Tasmaner

Machines are artefacts, are they not? — Wayfarer

What of it? Natural selection, for instance, is a mechanical, algorithmic process. Nature is full of them, without the need of a mind to have conceived them. That recognition is why Dewey thought Darwin would finally put paid to platonism in its many guises. That was over a hundred years ago, I believe, and people have yet to get the message. And so it goes.

You'll never teach the concept of prime to a Caledonian crow — Wayfarer

Hmmmm. You know that sounds a lot like one of those things people say because it's so obviously true, right up until it's proven false. (Heavier than air flight? Are you mad?)

There are simple algorithms for determining whether a number is prime; it's a mechanical process that doesn't require what you call "rational insight". Our intellectual superiority to the crow, in this case, is our greater capacity for purely mechanical, algorithmic thought-work. (In similar fashion, teenagers with essentially zero grasp of the niceties of algebraic geometry can solve quadratic equations for you all day long.)

Ah, but the concept, you'll say -- what extraordinary insight did it take to come up with the concept of primality? Eh. Primality is not subtle or complicated. If you do a lot of arithmetic, you're bound to notice that some numbers are a bit incorrigible in a similar way.

I don't say that a crow would notice. I'm just pointing out that, as with everything, it's practice first then theory, if ever, and that what gets noticed is something about the experience of doing arithemetic -- no portal opens to reveal the crystalline realm of mathematics, with an altar to primality at the center.

Neither am I denying that the noticing is where the action is, and we're damn good noticers. I would just want to be clear about what the noticing is and how it occurs before drawing any conclusions. --- And none of this says anything about whether numbers "exist" or whatever. That's the tail wagging the dog.

I actually find it odd to hear you say that quantifiers do not implicate existence (real or imagined). — Leontiskos

I mean, of course they implicate it, in the exact sense that they presuppose it -- but they don't have anything to say about it. Rather like the status that "truth" has in logic ... (Existence being not a real predicate, and in any given language neither is "... is true" -- need the metalanguage for that.)

What's asserted in an existentially quantified formula is not really, say, "Rabbits exist," but the more mundane "Some of the things (at least one) that exist are rabbits." Or "Not all of the things that exist aren't rabbits," etc.

And then there's all the complications that arise --- sortals and unrestricted quantification, vacuous singular terms, the elimination of singular terms, projectibility, the substitutional interpretation, et bloody cetera.

Also I always think it's worth rememembering that Frege's quantifiers, and the rest of classical logic so many of us know and love, was not designed as an all-purpose logic at all, but was what was needed to formalize mathematics. It's got some very rough edges when applied more broadly, about which there's endless debate, but it runs like a champ on its home turf.

I don't want to get embroiled in this thread — Leontiskos

Me neither. I've already spilled a lot of virtual ink on the forum about quantifiers.

The problem here is that quantification derives from the meaning of 'being' or 'exists', — Leontiskos

But this i disagree with, so here we are.

I don't think quantifiers have much of anything to do with existence or being or any of that. They're entirely about predication -- classification, categories, concepts. Quantifiers are about what things are, not that they are.

It's amusing that Quine is more or less directly responsible for the revival of metaphysics in English-speaking philosophy. By suggesting that there's not quite nothing to say about ontology, and that what little there is to say is covered by logic, he cracked the door open for everyone from Dummett to his own former students (Lewis and Kripke). He tried to build a dam to hold back modal speculation and caused a monumental flood of the stuff. And so it goes.

I just think there is a category error in supposing that numbers must exist or not exist.

Rather, they are something we do. A way of talking about things. A grammar. — Banno

I think there are better answers, to do with how we use words. — Banno

Why words, though? I'm not googling, but isn't there somewhat robust evidence that some non-linguistic animals (crows, isn't it?) and infra-linguistic children have some rudimentary understanding of arithemetic? (With numbers befitting their size, of course.)

What's more, there are, or have been, human languages -- and thus functioning human communities to speak them -- that only have "1, 2, many". So language doesn't directly lead to mathematics more advanced than crows and infants possess, even if it enables it (as it does, you know, everything).

I think the gist of your approach is right -- that numbers are to do with us. I just wonder why you think it's to do with how we talk.

Almost everything that matters happens when you are a child. — Srap Tasmaner

Then there's no point living past puberty, right? — Vera Mont

I only meant, everything that matters for determining what sort of being you are. Your understanding of physics, geometry, numbers, your native language, social bonds and social cues -- etc etc etc.

The point isn't even that you're finished by the time you're seven. Your brain's not even done yet. But you're set on your way and given the wherewithal to develop into something complete. What that will be depends on what happens to you, and of course on the choices you make, but how you make those choices is guided by what happened in those first years.

Do you disagree? Are we born and remain autonomous free agents? Rationally, I suppose, choosing our values and so forth, decade after decade? -- I presume that's a caricature of your view, so what's the real view? We are formed

over time, one observation, idea, judgment and commitment at a time — Vera Mont

certainly, but what's the nature of these? What's their origin? Do you freely choose what you notice? Do you choose what ideas occur to you? If you are moved by something you observe, something that changes your worldview or your values, did you choose to be so moved?

This kind of all-or-nothing decision is made consciously, with a head full of passionately held ideals. — Vera Mont

Do we also consciously decide which ideals to hold, and how passionately?

But are all commitments like that? Just habit or coercive circumstance? — Vera Mont

Ah, is this the issue for you? You're concerned that I'm downplaying if not denying the individual's agency, in favor of habit or circumstance?

Yeah, I expect I am. I don't think you choose who you are or what you believe. You at most become aware of who you are, what you are, what you believe.

When it comes to absolute commitment, dimly understood childhood conditioning is not a major factor. — Vera Mont

"Give me the child till the age of five-- " you know the rest.

I really can't imagine what you have in mind here. Almost everything that matters happens when you are a child.

I see purpose (now) as a settled state of mind beyond ordinary questioning about something significant, that serves to inform action or other beliefs, though flexible, if need be. — tim wood

Yes, I think that's closer. I was thinking similarly of a sort of comportment, a style, a way of doing things.

The usual model boils everything down to decisions and preferences, but those are always open to change. Something no longer in play, if it ever was, isn't much like one of those, but more like a sort of framework for them. It's given. It will shape all the changeable stuff, channel it in a particular direction.

But that's just a model. The question is whether we're really like that, and if so, why?

There's Hume's line in the Treatise about the "belief" in (that is to say, unwavering commitment to) object permanence: he says there are things Nature has deemed too important to leave up to our fallible reason.

What we're talking about looks something like that. (Not the sort of thing Nature left to the rational-agent, decisions & preferences model.) If it does develop over time, over the course of a life, it does so by a process we play little conscious role in. It's practically something that happens to us, like aging itself, not much like something we do. You wake up one day and realize you have a principles (or prejudices), or feel you have a purpose, whatever. Not your doing, exactly, though somehow for that very reason close to the core of your identity -- because it wasn't up to you, anymore than your identity in any other sense is.

Jumping off a tall building would do it. — Vera Mont

Yes, exactly. The idea is to constrain your own agency, even to the point of extinguishing it, if necessary.

It's a point of interest that we often find this sort of irrevocable commitment praiseworthy. I suppose the idea is that it takes a supreme act of agency to so constrain your future agency -- and then whatever praise later acts would normally get, if undertaken freely, is instead heaped upon the original act.

When it's all praiseworthy, anyway. But it's up to us whether to call such stubbornness "principle" or "prejudice". (From the Latin, judging ahead of time.) And that determines how we take this:

For lesser commitments, you don't; there is always the possibility of failing, chickening out or changing your mind. — Vera Mont

We certainly talk that way when we're in the mood to judge the behavior of others, but we know perfectly well it's not that simple. You don't really make choices about your blind spots, for instance. Exactly how to hold people accountable for prejudices they grew up with, and may only dimly be aware of, is rather hotly debated these days. Less so, though analagous, whether anyone should get credit for having been raised to have sterling or at least unobjectionable character.

We know more too. We know that it can be terribly difficult actually to put into effect a choice we've made. We may firmly believe that some course of action would be "the right thing to do" and still not do it. Why? Who knows.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

Anyhow, it's a known fact. So what appears to be principle or prejudice may be neither, but merely an inability to act otherwise, whether accompanied by an ability to think or choose otherwise or not.

And all of this suggests, I think, that choice is just the wrong model here, or less helpful than it might seem; if there is a way of making a choice you can't unchoose, it's whatever enables that, that's really doing the work. Hence people reach for lots of things that aren't up to you: God, human nature, your individual nature, whatever.

Bonus: some dialogue from an episode of Firefly I'm so fond of I may have posted it on here before.

There's social contact stuff that comes readily to mind. Schelling's credible deterrent scenario is a surprise application of that. -- That was meant more as a "structural" analogy, because while the social value of predictability on your part is obvious, what good is it to you?

It's the sort of temporary move you make all the time, just to be able to think: you hold some variables as fixed, just for the moment, so you can see what the others do. But why fix them forever? And how?

One of the talking heads in the Heidegger film, Being in the World, attributes to Kierkegaard the idea that we can't be the source of all the meaning in the world, because if we were we could also take it all away.

I think we're kind of in that territory. It's easy enough to see why you'd want someone else to believe you'll hold up your end, keep your promises, honor your contacts, and all that, but how do you convince yourself and why would you?

It looks like it has to be a slightly different mechanism, and in fact that's the point of Schelling's scenario: removing the wheel is a move which *changes* the game. The game is built on each side swearing they won't turn but the other side knowing they still might anyway, even if they honestly believe they won't.

For an individual, how do you make a commitment to yourself you can't back out of?

(I'm passing over a lot of interesting stuff.)

I recognize I have a standing purpose of never being in a position of not having clean clothes. Call it rule. — tim wood

Thomas Schelling gives the example of two drivers playing chicken, and one of them pulls his steering wheel off and holds it up so the other driver can see it.

You seem to be talking about something near here, something that in some ways looks like a choice, but a choice that's no longer in play, one you can't go back on. (Maybe in some cases that's only relative, or temporary.) Such a commitment, that's beyond our reach to go back on it, is what you're reaching for with "purpose". Is that close?

If that's the right analysis, that might explain why people are inclined to say that purpose comes from outside (from God, Nature, Aristotle, Darwin, whatever): either way you experience it as not up to you.

But it does raise a question: what is this capacity to remove the steering wheel? How is this kind of commitment different from other choices we make and why do we do it? To what end?

A pipe-fitter can have intelligent children. — Vera Mont

in an unskewed sample of pipe-fitters, most of them will not have intelligent children. — Lionino

My father was a member of Plumbers & Pipe-fitters Local No. 5 for 35 years, though he spent most of that standing at a drafting table, cigarettes burning in three different ashtrays because every time he stopped to think he'd light a new one, then put it aside when he got back to it. He made beautiful drawings the men (and occasionally women) at the job site could actually use, full of thought.

I can string thoughts together pretty well. My brother, on the other hand ... Well, there's your sample.

if our world is so familiar that we treat it as an unchanging given, then we achieve no freedom — Joshs

Absolutely, and one reason I squeezed in the word "variable" up there somewhere.

I think much of the challenge of freedom for us comes from our culture. We all swim in a sea of inherited ideas. It's all too easy to grab an off-the-shelf interpretation of anything, and that's not freedom.

But "going it alone" or "starting from scratch" is just not an option, so your inheritance, and a certain ambivalence about it, is something else you have to be, well, both comfortable and uncomfortable with. I don't imagine feeling at home in the world as static, but taking it all as it comes, including your own occasional feeling of alienation.

Something like that is what I think of as largeness of soul. Keats was a terribly unusual young man, who got here remarkably quickly. (The "negative capability" letter and the "vale of soul-making" letter are both earlyish, if I recall correctly, and probably only a few months apart.) And of course then there's his real hero, Shakespeare, who had an extraordinarily capacious soul.