To Know Our Unknowing
by reichorn
Aphorism of the Day 1:
“Nothing becomes a man, even the most zealous, more perfectly in learning than to be found very learned in ignorance itself, which is his characteristic. The more he knows that he is unknowing, the more learned he will be.”
– Nicholas of Cusa, On Learned Ignorance
Aphorism of the Day 2:
“There are some things we now know too well, we knowing ones: oh, how we nowadays learn as artists to forget well, to be good at not knowing!”
– Nietzsche, preface to The Gay Science
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Welcome to the first post by a guest-blogger here at the TPB! My name’s Roger Eichorn. I’m a friend of Scott’s, an aspiring fantasy novelist, and a Ph.D. student in philosophy at the University of Chicago. My primary area of specialization is ancient skepticism, particularly the Pyrrhonism of Sextus Empiricus.
In this post, I’d like to discuss one of Scott’s favorite themes—human stupidity—in relation to Pyrrhonism.
Scott focuses, and for good reason, on the growing scientific (that is, empirical) evidence to the effect that humans are stupid, stupid creatures. Much of this work is cutting-edge stuff, largely because of recent technological advances that have (as Scott likes to say) broken open the ‘black box’ of the human brain. Even so, there’s a sense in which the findings Scott brings to our attention are merely the latest chapter in a long story, a story that goes all the way back to the ancients.
Sextus Empicirus himself based many of his arguments on empirical evidence. Though, of course, his ‘evidence’ was not the sort of thing that would pass muster in a modern scientific context, I believe there’s every reason to think that, were he alive today, Sextus would be at least as fascinated by the growing body of evidence concerning human cognitive shortcomings as Scott is—and moreover, there’s every reason to think that he would have made potent use of this evidence in his skeptical dialectic.
However, Sextus did not think that we require empirical evidence in order to arrive at the conclusion that we’re all idiots. That conclusion, he thought, can be arrived at purely a priori, that is, while lounging in our armchairs and merely thinking through our knowing. Let’s see how this works.
The question is this: What, if anything, do we know? Knowledge is generally taken to be justified true belief.* (This is a twentieth-century formulation, but the thought goes back at least to Plato.) On the one hand, there are beliefs—all sorts of beliefs, many of them batshit crazy. On the other hand, there is the way things actually are (truth). How do we assure ourselves that a belief reflects how things actually are? We do so, the thought goes, by justifying that belief.
So far, so good. But any step we take from here is going to lead us into trouble, for the question immediately arises: What does and does not count as a genuine justification? Right away, we find ourselves in the grip of what’s called the problem of the criterion, which can be summed up this way: without an already-established criterion of truth/justification, we have no way to establish the truth/justification of a putative criterion of truth/justification. Immediately, in other words, we’ve fallen into the difficulty of needing to justify that which makes justification possible. It is no easy task—putting it mildly—to see our way around this epistemic impasse.
But even if we bracket out the problem of the criterion, our difficulties are hardly over. For the sake of argument, let’s all agree to construe justification in purely rationalistic terms. Let us, in other words, agree to seek justification solely on the basis of the autonomous exercise of our capacity to reason. (Let us, that is, become philosophers.) Straight off, then, we can dismiss any putative justification that relies on appeals to authority (appeals that cannot be independently underwritten by reason alone, that is). Appeals to authority (such as God, sacred texts, or your friendly neighborhood guru) can play a role in justification, but they cannot be its ground. We can also dismiss things like divine revelation. (Again, divine revelation can play a role in justification, but only if the truth of the revelation has been independently justified.)
In short, let’s all agree to be ‘rational.’ Now, there must exist constraints on what counts as rational; otherwise, the concept would be empty, indistinguishable from irrationality. Ancient skeptics suggested the following as non-tendentious rational constraints:
(1) If a person claims to know something, then that person opens herself up to the standing possibility of being asked how she knows, i.e., to being asked for the justification of her belief.
(2) Successful justifications cannot involve:
- Brute assumption
- Infinite regress
- Vicious circularity
(3) If a claim to knowledge cannot be justified, then the claimant is rationally constrained to withdraw it (at least qua knowledge-claim).
The constraints on justification outlined in (2)–called the Agrippan Trilemma–come down simply to this: merely assuming that something is true is not a rational reason to maintain that it’s true; therefore, any putative justifier must itself be justified, from which it follows that an infinite regress of justifications (where x is justified by y, which is justified by z, on and on forever) fails, as do circular justifications (where x is justified by y, which is itself justified by x).
There’s a sense in which the Agrippan Trilemma sums up the problematic of the entire history of epistemology. Foundationalist theories attempt to end the regress by appealing to some privileged class of self-justifying justifiers. Coherence theories, on the other hand, attempt to make a virtue of circularity by claiming, roughly, that we are justified in holding a set of beliefs if those beliefs evince the requisite degree of internal coherence.
Despite centuries–millenia!–of ingenious epistemological tinkering by generations of staggeringly intelligent people, it is hard to see, on the face of it, how any theory can escape the Agrippan Trilemma without giving up on rational justification altogether. The very idea of a self-justifying justifier is, if not incoherent, at least deeply suspicious. Such ‘foundations’ to our knowledge are often said to be ‘self-evident.’ But as the Devil’s Dictionary points out, ‘self-evident’ seems to mean that which is evident to oneself–and no one else. (Making the same point with far more plausibility, and much less humor: ‘self-evident’ seems to mean nothing more than what a particular cultural tradition has taught its members to accept without reasons.)
As for coherence theories, it may be the case that the greater the coherence of a set of beliefs, the more reason we have, ceteris paribus, to think those beliefs true. But the game of truth is not horseshoes or hand-grenades. Given that knowledge means justified true belief, then by claiming knowledge of x, we’re claiming that x is true, not that x is more or less likely to be true by virtue of belonging to a more or less coherent set of beliefs. There might be all sorts of interesting uses for coherence theories, but they are not theories of truth.
Finally, some epistemologists endorse ‘externalism,’ according to which (roughly) knowledge does not require that the knowing subject know that she knows. Here’s one way of putting it: as long as a belief was acquired by means of a reliable mechanism (a mechanism that is known to ‘track the truth’), then the belief is justified regardless of the ‘internal’ state of the subject. Externalists will want to argue that I (and other pesky skeptics) are demanding too much, namely, not just that we know x, but that we know that we know x.
Think about it for a minute, though. What does ‘externalism’ come down to? Just this: “It might very well be the case that many of our beliefs are justified even if we have no way of knowing that they are.” For consider: unless the externalist, or someone, is able to adopt the third-person perspective—the perspective from which it is possible to determine that Beatrice has arrived at belief x by means of a reliable, truth-tracking mechanism, and thus that she knows x (even though she does not know that she knows x)—then externalism amounts to saying, “It might be the case that we know all sorts of stuff.” Fine. I accept that, Sextus accepts that—all ancient skeptics do (at least in the externalist’s sense of having a true belief that is in fact justified in some way that escapes us). But without specifying what we know and how we know it (what justifies it), then externalism simply does not answer the question.
On the other hand, if externalists think that they (or someone) can adopt the justification-identifying third-person perspective, can identify (e.g.) reliable truth-tracking mechanisms, then their account of justification would have to be an account of the justification of those mechanisms—that is, an account of how it’s known that those mechanisms are truth-tracking. Externalism, then, if it is to contribute anything to the conversation, must collapse into internalism.
It is not enough to ‘know’ something in the externalist’s sense. Unless we’re in possession of a justification for a belief we hold, then we do not know that we know it, in which case we have no warrant for crowning it Knowledge.
Where does this leave us? It seems to leave us with the conclusion that, as far as we know, we know nothing.
But that can’t be right, for if we know that we do not know whether we know anything, then we know something.
We’ve run aground on peritropē: self-refutation. I’ll continue the story in a later post…
What I’ve tried to show here is just that, even sitting in our armchairs, reflecting on our epistemic predicament, it’s possible to illuminate for ourselves the cognitive knots in which our thinking entangles itself—to know our unknowing.
We’re all idiots. The more we accept this—the more we become good at not knowing—the more learned we will be.
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* = Those with a philosophical background might at this point protest, “But what of Gettier cases?” I’m going to ignore Gettier here, partly to keep things simple, but also because I think Gettier’s problematization of the standard conception of knowledge fails, that its failure has been demonstrated numerous times, and that epistemologists should just move on already.
Three Pound Brain 
Ya don’t say…
Or maybe you did… I guess we can’t be sure…
Stay tuned.
“Next week on To Know Your Unknowing: What about, like, our *lives* and stuff? Don’t we have to know stuff in order to, like, do all the stuff we do, like reading this blog? Doesn’t that, like, make your whole ‘not knowing anything’ thing look pretty stupid? I mean, we gotta know stuff, right?”
All good questions.
Well, that leaves us with functional operation and how that is related to empirical knowledge, yes?
Empiricism appears to be based on the foundation of knowing what isn’t and thereby forming an assumption of what is. Then we can perform experiments to try and prove that that is also wrong. And so on, until you are reasonably confident that the probably wrong knowledge you are left with is, at least, functionally robust.
So yeh, its the known unkowns that inform functional operations.
Of course, that means you dont really need to know anything in order to “do stuff”. You only need to have a conviction that some things are wrong.
For me, this forms the basis of critical and scientific thought. You can’t learn anything until you are wrong. (cuz otherwise you already ‘knew’ it).
Great post; thanks for taking the time, Mr. Eichorn. I found myself taking an epistemology class one term (I was a hard science major), and Sextus Empiricus really struck a chord with me. With this post, it seems more relevant than ever!
Sometimes I think about logic as a tool for sussing out self-justifying justifiers, as if mathematical truths were somehow “above” any other explanation of the universe and the things in it, and if we could apply these truths to everyday experiences, then we could have knowledge that even the skeptics could not refute.
I also toy with this idea when I want to refute determinism: by following a perfectly mathematical mode of logic, I am sidestepping any deterministic path that my mind would otherwise take, since math is “above” any universal action.
Then I remember I’m speaking nonsense and I return to my tasty sandwich.
Loved your last sentence!
The best place to defend a priori knowledge is within the domain of mathematics, that’s for sure. But the skeptics, who tend to leverage disagreement in order to raise fundamental justificatory questions, would point out that there is widespread disagreement about *what mathematics is*, from which it follows that there’s widespread disagreement about just what its putative ‘indubitability’ consists in.
Sextus would say that the existence of disagreement demonstrates that the matter is not clear in itself. Therefore, it must be backed up by reasons, i.e., it must be justified independently of its own operations. But then you fall back into all the same problems I sketched above.
As for using logic to escape determinism — that sounds interesting, though I admit to not understanding it. I would think that “following a perfectly mathematical mode of logic” would actually function to *determine* your thoughts, rather than freeing them from external determination… I suppose you’re saying that, if you were ‘determined’ to think illogically, then thinking logically would “sidestep” that determinism. But there’s an obvious rejoinder, right? You were ‘determined’ to think logically.
Thanks for the reply. The funny thing about Pyrrhonian skepticism is that the universal suspension of judgment that defines their worldview acts as a sort of “price-of-entry” into that line of thinking, as one would have to do just that in order to avoid getting caught up in analyzing potential exceptions to their rule.
I’ll try to clarify my determinism stream if I can. Everyone is “pushed” along a deterministic path that is rooted in their thought processes. These processes are set by past events, i.e., everything that came before. If one were to analyze this and change their actions accordingly, this would just be a part of their deterministic destiny, etc. However, if there exists a perfect logical or mathematical “truth” to the universe that can be translated to perfect logical choices for sentient beings, then surrendering to such a system would be lead to *something* (I don’t know what) contrary to any deterministic system ruled by past events. Maybe the act of hopping on that path is part of the deterministic destiny, but everything that happens afterwards is not.
It sounds inelegant when I try and explain it. The main point, I suppose, is that such a system would be *different* (I think) from a deterministic path laid out by the mind, because it is *outside* of the mind.
It all depends on what ‘suspension of judgment’ (epoche) *means* (particularly: what its scope is). This is probably the single most contentious question regarding the interpretation of Sextus. But no matter what your view on epoche, it certainly cannot be the case that it’s an entry-point to Pyrrhonism; Sextus is clear that suspension of judgment *follows* from his skeptical practice.
The Pyrrhonians do not avoid analyzing *anything*, as Sextus’s texts make clear. No question is put out of bounds. To be a Pyrrhonian, one must be willing to consider any and all “potential exceptions” to epoche.
As for your thoughts on logic and determinism… I’m still not sure it makes sense. To begin with, you slide between locating the source of determinism in our ‘thought processes’ (which determine our actions) and locating it in ‘past events’ (which determine our thought processes, which determine our actions). For instance, you distinguish between a ‘deterministic path laid out by the mind’ and one that is ‘laid out by a perfect logical or mathematical truth.’ But any deterministic path laid out by the mind is deterministic because the mind is itself determined by outside forces (e.g., past events). (Consider: If our actions were determined by the mind, full stop, then our actions would be free, since — in the relevant sense — we *are* our minds!) Thus, I don’t see the relevant difference between surrendering to outside forces that lead one down an ‘irrational path’ and surrendering to outside forces that lead one down a ‘perfect logical path.’ Either way, one’s ‘thought processes’ — and in turn, one’s actions — are determined by outside forces. How can this lead to freedom?
And all of that assumes that you can even begin to make sense of the notion of “a perfect logical or mathematical ‘truth’ to the universe that can be translated to perfect logical choices for sentient beings.” Frankly, I’m not even sure where one would begin trying to discover such a ‘truth,’ let alone the mechanism by which it ties itself to human action.
Thanks again for the thorough response. I’m still working on expounding these distant inklings that I always seem to have.
I’ll play devils advocate…
So far, so good. But any step we take from here is going to lead us into trouble, for the question immediately arises: What does and does not count as a genuine justification?
Justify why that question would arise at all?
“It’s it obvious? Isn’t it clear cut? I don’t understand why your having such a hard time with getting this?” (heh, can’t resist using that line from another poster!)
Is this a plausible roadblock, do you think? Someone is so sure that actually, no, that question does not arise at all. Some things are nailed down, concrete, absolute. To them.
How do you justify that question being raised (on something which is absolute clear cut!), with all the difficulties of justifying you mention latter?
I’m thinking of a circumspect approach of finding something in the persons life they are not certain about and their own justification was questioned by themselves. But that approach has problems with the mental fatigue of going off the main subject.
I’ve a few more like this in regards further points in the post, where I think I can give an example of where the person will zig whereas a philosopher will zag and so the post kind of hits the nail on the head for the zaggers. But not so much ziggers.
Show me your philoso-fu! 🙂
Actually, in this you’re being more of an “angel’s advocate,” I think.
Sextus would respond this way: Look, man, people disagree about what counts as a genuine justification. That’s just how it is, bro. If the matter were clear-cut in itself, then there wouldn’t be disagreement about it. Given that there _is_ disagreement, how do we settle it? Well, we gotta try to justify our justifiers.
Think of the classic example of a justificatory circle: – “It’s true because it says so in the Bible.” – “Why does that make it true?” – “Because the Bible’s the word of God.” – “Why do you think the Bible is the word of God?” – “Because it says so in the Bible!”
The problem, as you can see by taking a close look at real-world disagreements, is that unless the parties to the disagreement agree on what counts as a justification for believing something to be true (or as a reason to believe it, or as genuine evidence for it, etc.), then they have no shared *rational* ground on the basis of which to adjudicate their dispute. Where the two unreconcilable principles meet, reasons simply run out. Why? Because, in such cases, the question of what counts as a genuine justification rears its head — and cannot be answered with reasons. (Ultimately, the debate imagined above would likely end this way: “I know it’s true because I have *faith*.”)
More simply still: The question arises because it’s justification that’s at issue — so what *is* a justification? In cases where everyone agrees (usually implicitly) on some set of background assumptions that ‘frame’ the rational-cum-justificatory ‘space’ of the discussion, then the question won’t arise, true, since (ex hypothesi) everyone shares assumptions about what qualifies as a genuine justification. Once disagreement kicks in, however, the problem becomes pressing.
Still, even in our armchairs, we can come to recognize the problem. Justifying that which makes justification possible seems, on the face of it, impossible — like lifting yourself up by your bootstraps.
Actually, in this you’re being more of an “angel’s advocate,” I think.
Heh, yeah, I think I’ll pay that one!
Given that there _is_ disagreement
“There isn’t a disagreement, you just don’t get that X is Y! It’s perfectly straight forward!”
In other words, they have come to educate you.
It depends on how far you take your post. You could apply it to gravity, even – are you sure it’s there? Could you not just walk off that cliff…and keep walking? You can’t? How do you know?
If you think that’s taking it too far, well I’d pitch the idea that that’s exactly where the other side is keeping their position as well – in the “it’d be going too far to question this!” zone. Thus, like gravity, it becomes a graven fact. One to educate you upon.
To me it feels pretty freaky ass for me to question gravity, particularly the walking off cliff questioning. That’s how it’d feel, perhaps moreso, to the other guy.
Perhaps as an approach vector, is the recognition that we keep our pet beliefs, like gravity – and when we question the other guys beliefs/justifications we also peel back gravity/our pet beliefs along with them in the same paragraph. So both parties squirm together? It might promote a certain emotional exposure on both sides?
Think of the classic example of a justificatory circle: – “It’s true because it says so in the Bible.” – “Why does that make it true?” – “Because the Bible’s the word of God.” – “Why do you think the Bible is the word of God?” – “Because it says so in the Bible!”
Yeah, but think of chess – “Checkmate!” – “How is that true?” – “Because it says so in the rules!” – “But what does that make it true?” – “Because that’s the game were playing!” – “Why do you think that’s the game were playing?” – “Because these are it’s rules!”
I think the issue is not circularity, but one of responsibility. With the chess example, to me the questioner is being silly. The reason is, we (both parties) chose to play chess. That’s why dis shit is goin’ down! That’s why it’s checkmate, etc. Chess is circular logic – but it’s a circle you can decide to step into or not.
In the bible example, to the dude hasn’t chosen to ‘play’ the bible, the bible just ‘is’.
So I’d propose the philoso-fu thumb breaker counter to
“Because it says so in the Bible!”
is
“And that’s good enough for you? You choose that as being good enough for you?”
It’s the first step (perhaps) of them claiming responsibility for their choice.
Of course it’ll probably go through recursion once pressed latter on “Yeah, but this is all because you chose to trust the bible” – “I uh, didn’t choose, the bible is truth!” – “So you choose to trust it as truth?” – “No, it just is!” – “So you choose to believe it just is?”
Ie, as the recursion snakes backwards into the dark, chase after it with the ever dogging shadow of responsibility.
I think we engage in so much circular logic, in playing chess, in our work places, in our social (circles), I don’t think the circular identification works toward much. Except perhaps by removal of competition, to dress up ones own circularity as the real deal? Devils advocate, remember… >:)
First off, it’s important to remember the moral of the story I tell: that, when we reflect on our own reflection, think our own thinking, we get entangled in cognitive knots. About that much, at least, you seem to agree.
I don’t understand your “there’s no disagreement” line. Now, of course some disagreements are illusory (for instance, I had a recent discussion here, about instinct, with kalbear, and I think he eventually saw that we weren’t really disagreeing), but in such cases — that is, cases where there is no genuine first-order disagreement — there is still second-order disagreement (i.e., disagreement over whether there’s genuine disagreement). Even so, there are plenty of cases where there is clear-cut first-order disagreement — and the question of what counts as a genuine justification is often the object of such disagreement.
– “The Bible provides us with solid justificatory grounds, for whatever it says is true.” – “No, the Bible is a work of fiction, containing no truths deserving of the name. It provides no justificatory grounds whatsoever.”
These two views exist. You can suss them out easily enough. Therefore, there exists first-order disagreement about what counts as a genuine justification.
Do I think gravity is real? Sure I do. Do I think I can justify my belief that gravity is real? No. I don’t even think I can justify my belief that I’m currently sitting in my office typing this post. Would I walk off a cliff? No. Why? Because I think I’d fall. So I think I’m *justified* in my belief that I’ll fall? No, I don’t.
(It must be borne in mind here that ‘justify’ can be used in all sorts of ways, to mean all sorts of things. I’m using it in the way indicated in the post: as that which ensures that a belief corresponds with how things actually are.)
I think your appeal to games is too quick, and ineffective anyway. It’s too quick because, whereas the rules of a game *constitute* the game as the game it is, it is not the case that the justificatory authority of the Bible *constitutes* the Bible as the book that it is. It’s ineffective because, far from suggesting that the chess example demonstrates that this sort of reasoning isn’t circular, in fact all you’ve done is open the door on the infamous problem of rule-following skepticism. It is in fact a messy problem to figure out what justifies us in claiming that *any* action we take is in accordance with a rule.
In other words, all you’ve done is highlight another epistemically problematic region.
Finally, you seem to want to claim that because circular reasoning is so common, it’s not really a problem (or something like that?). I don’t follow you. A disease doesn’t cease to be a disease just because it’s widespread.
I don’t understand your “there’s no disagreement” line.
Well, as I said they have come to tutor you. I’m proposing the idea that their POV is that they are the teacher and you are the student. Students don’t argue with teachers – they merely don’t understand the lesson yet. Every time you think you argue, what they hear is you merely fumbling for the wonderous truth they happen to know. Thus there is no argument. Your trying to talk as someone as a peer when its actually more of a patronising arrangement.
You can say no, you think that in the bulk of the occurances they don’t adopt a teacher/student POV and you may be right. I’m just pitching that it may be the case (and in such a case, there is no argument) and where I place my bet (though I’ve run no scientific survey, granted).
“The Bible provides us with solid justificatory grounds, for whatever it says is true.” – “No, the Bible is a work of fiction, containing no truths deserving of the name. It provides no justificatory grounds whatsoever.”
These two views exist. You can suss them out easily enough. Therefore, there exists first-order disagreement about what counts as a genuine justification.
“That’s not an argument – those people are just wrong and need education!”
“Just like the climate change deniers are just wrong and need education!”
Cards on table time – my bet is climate change is occuring from man made sources. But for devils advocate purposes it’s great to use because how many intelligent people actually just full on believe in climate change! And so, to those intelligent people, those climate change deniers are just plain wrong and need to learn ‘the truth’ about climate change. They aren’t looking to argue, they are looking to teach. Teacher and student.
Given your stance on gravity though, maybe it wont work as a goose getting devils advocate. But surely you remember believing stuff just full on – that feelin’? I mean, isn’t that who your post is aimed at – surely not the TPB ingroup? That’d seem to much a preaching to the choir thing as I atleast can’t really argue any of your points much. What I’m arguing is how you’d pitch it to someone who would argue – or atleast appear to argue as they attempt to teach you. Again, the techer/student POV is my hypothesis; that I’m pimping alot, of course! >:)
Would I walk off a cliff? No. Why? Because I think I’d fall. So I think I’m *justified* in my belief that I’ll fall? No, I don’t.
What’s the use of arguing this justification thing if you say you’re not justified, yet you keep doing the physical act (of not walking off a cliff) anyway?
I know walking off a cliff seems ludicrous, but for someone else not multilating a young girls genitals seems ludicrous as well. What’s the point of them maybe saying they aren’t justified but they continue to multiate as much as they did before?
And yet the other side, I totally empathise, is the insanity of considering the walk off a cliff seriously. Because maybe that’s the real act of not feeling justified? Or atleast, less justified.
Ponder the cliffs edge, the step you believe is death, and know the strength of other mens beliefs.
it is not the case that the justificatory authority of the Bible *constitutes* the Bible as the book that it is.
And what better way to demonstrate it, but to make explicit the person is merely choosing to use it as their authority?
It’s like you want to dismantle it as an authority. Me, I just flag who chose to make it an authority for themselves. Then it unravels itself.
Anyway I merely raise the chess example to argue with you about trying the ‘it’s circular logic’ identification approach. I wasn’t recommending to use it to argue with the target audience. Indeed…
It’s ineffective because, far from suggesting that the chess example demonstrates that this sort of reasoning isn’t circular
You may be reading me incorrectly – I’m not trying to argue the bible sequence you described was not circular logic. No, it looks like circular logic to me. I’m aguing that pointing that circularity out might not be the best way of breaking thumbs, so to speak. Anyway, I agree it’s circular – with all the perverse beauty such circles have!
Finally, you seem to want to claim that because circular reasoning is so common, it’s not really a problem (or something like that?). I don’t follow you. A disease doesn’t cease to be a disease just because it’s widespread.
When you find something that isn’t a game, a circular logic that one can choose to step into (or not), put in a good word for me.
Anyway, there’s a difference between a circular logic that traps (and ‘owns’, to use a certain authors phrase) and a circular logic that one may step in or out of by choice (chess).
Students don’t disagree with teachers where you come from? I want to teach there! (Actually, no, I don’t.)
You think that just because someone believes they know the truth about x, then they won’t view disagreement about x as constituting disagreement?!
I don’t understand. It’s not necessary to take a ‘disagreer’ seriously — or to doubt the truth of one’s own beliefs — to recognize the existence of disagreement.
Well, think of climate change deniers. They aren’t called climate change disagree-ers, are they? How did that naming enter into popular culture? Once someone knows the truth, disagreement with it becomes all sorts of other things.
I think that’s what’s occuring, because your post tends to sit well with me in reasoning and the apparent absence of foundation to justification – I just imagine other people with whom it will not even register with them on the matters they feel justified on. And I’m hypothesizing as to why; They disagree with you on a matter you identify as disagreement. Surely you recognise their disagreement on that? >:)
No? You’d say they have to be recognising the prior disagreement, so of course they don’t disagree with you that there was a prior disagreement? To say as much seems to be enacting the behaviour I’m describing?
Or maybe the people/the POV I’m imagining doesn’t exist. I’d prefer that and to be wrong about it, really.
Students don’t disagree with teachers where you come from? I want to teach there!
Well, my main point is someone appointing themselves as teacher when you think you speak with them as a peer. On top of that, as said, it doesn’t matter if a ‘student’ argues, if the ‘teacher’ does not see it as an argument. Instead it’s a denial or a quant/cute expression of them being ignorant – when a baby shits itself, do you see it arguing with you against using a toilet, or do you see ignorance/reflexive spasm/etc?
Just adding problems on top of already difficult problems, I know…
It’s not necessary to take a ‘disagreer’ seriously — or to doubt the truth of one’s own beliefs — to recognize the existence of disagreement.
That it is not necessary to do X or Y in order to do Z does not mean one will do Z.
Well, you’ve got alot of posts to reply to, Roger, but I think it’s worth wrapping up with something like a ‘maybe, but being only able to focus on so much at a time (like everyone else), I’ve got other areas I’m looking at for the time being’.
First of all, nice guest post, and I agree with Mr. Empiricus to some degree.
You begin to address self-refutation, but I’d like to preempt that somewhat:
When we start examining how we know, we “take mental steps” in the same way that someone using reason to justify a belief might. That is, there are rules in the construction of these Skeptical thoughts… so how can you know the rules that led you to the construction of the Aggripan Trillema in the first place?
The Skeptic has trusted himself initially to be able to apriori examine epistemology using the crap that’s going on in his head, and so he undercuts his final argument before he even assembles it.
Long story short, I Know that A=A is true. And that if A=B and B=C then A=C. This isn’t socially constructed, it’s an apriori rule of cognition that follows from the definitions of the symbols inasmuch as anything can follow anything. If someone could apriori show that we have Good Reason to distrust Reason, then shit man… divide by zero, end of game.
I agree with the Skeptics, however, that there are Good Reasons to distrust our senses, our intuitions, and our external commitments, and that just comes from Cartesian Evil Demon scenarios, which are a natural extension of the skeptic whittling what we can come to Know with a capital K.
This is why the current “no mind” vein in philosophy of mind is so disturbing… because when Descartes was done whittling Mind was all he had left.
Lots to say here…
Yes, we have good reason to distrust reason! That’s what this post is all about, I thought. And there is, of course, mounting empirical evidence bearing out the hypothesis that a great deal of our ‘reasons’ are merely ‘rationalizations,’ that our ‘reasons’ are totally disconnected from reality (esp. when explaining our own actions), etc., etc.
I’m reminded of this famous line from Descartes (which, in fact, echoes Montaigne so strongly that the arch-rationalist almost certainly stole it from the modern Pyrrhonian himself!): “Good sense [i.e., reason] must be the best distributed thing in the world: for everyone thinks himself so well endowed with it that even those who are the hardest to please in everything else do not usually desire more of it than they possess.”
Also, don’t be too complacent about the ‘indubitablility’ of logic. You mention Descartes’s evil demon in connection with doubting “our senses, our intuitions, and our external commitments,” but in fact, all of that was brought into doubt _prior to_ the introduction of the Evil Demon. (The dreaming argument took care of the external world.) The Evil Demon was introduced to call into question logic and mathematics — pure reason itself. After all, couldn’t it be the case that there exists an Evil Demon who makes it so that we’re systematically mistaken about, e.g., logical operations?
For this reason, Descartes denied that the Cogito (I think, therefore I am) is an inference.
And Sextus has plenty of withering remarks about logic, mainly located around its inability to _add_ to our knowledge. Either it deals in tautologies (which tell us nothing), or it merely spells out what we must _already know_ if we are to know the truth of the inference. (But how do we ‘already know’ it? Logic doesn’t tell us.)
Ah, see, here’s my sophomoric knowledge of philosophy showing. I didn’t know the Evil Demon was an argument against mathematics and logic.
Still, I feel my initial point still stands. To construct the Skeptical argument, you still have to take certain ‘mental steps’ which are then undercut by the result of Skepticism itself.
I think it’s fair to remind you that I am in full agreement that most ‘reasons’ are Rationalizations, including my own. It’s just that there are cases (in science for example) where a logical process is applied to data and it leads to a new discovery. If Reason is imperfect, it’s nonetheless a powerful tool in the arsenal of science.
Yes, your initial point stands — as I say in the post itself. The apparent result of the skeptical arguments undermine themselves.
Thus, this is *not* the end of the story — though some set out to dismiss skepticism by claiming otherwise.
It’s worth pointing out that people only leverage the existence of an apparently unresolvable paradox to dismiss a position (or whatever) if that position is one they don’t like (such as skepticism). But if there’s an apparently unresolvable paradox concerning a position (or whatever) that they *do* like, then they’re content to shrug their shoulders and say, “But *still*…” (For example: the paradoxes concerning induction don’t stop philosophers from using inductive arguments.)
Nice post, Enjoyable to read, felt my brain open up a bit, look forward to reading more!
Great post!
I’ve just read your post – the comments not yet – and I’m quite new to this and philosophy in any way, so I’m trying to make sense of this in my own words. Please correct me if I’m wrong and comment on what I’m saying (and note I’m not a native English speaker, hope you won’t notice):
So you could, in short, say, to solve the problem of knowledge – the Agrippan Trilemma – there is ‘externalism’, which solves it by refusing the problem at all, and there are ‘coherence theories’ and ‘foundationalists theories’.
‘Foundationalists theories’
[A > A > B > C > …]
Let’s put all the deductions in one variable called ‘V’:
[A > A > V]
So, [A > A]&[A > V]
‘Coherence theories’
[A > B > C > … > A]
Let’s put all the deductions in one variable called ‘V’:
[A > V > A]
So, [A > V]&[V > A]
So, [A > A]&[V > A]
So, [A > A > V]
Now, after having rewritten the same statements, the theories seem the same! It looks like the ‘coherence theories’ do the same as the ‘foundationalists theories’, they both state, the latter already at the beginning but the former at the end as well, that A is self-justifying. But you can take it further:
As I said: [A > A]&[V > A]
So, [A > A]
Now it looks the other way around, like the ‘foundationalists theories’ do the same as the ‘coherence theories’. And I think this is the case. You could say the former is a deduction with a loop at the beginning, while the latter is a loop in its entity. But, if I am right both come down to the same thing at the end anyway, namely:
[A > A]
So, [A]
This is what I believe both theories state. It works, but only if all variables are true. In any other case, the loop, puzzle, as whatever you want to see it, fails.
The problem:
Back to the main problem, now, you could say there are only two solutions: externalism and a theory containing a loop. And neither of them offer a satisfying explanation.
Hello, Sven!
I’m not entirely sure that I understand everything you say here. But it strikes me that your schematizations of the theories aren’t quite right. Foundationalism would run something like this:
A > B > C > D (self-justified justifer)
That is, foundationalism ends in a justifier that it is _not_ inferred from anything else, but which is nonetheless justified and capable of transmitting positive epistemic status to other claims.
Coherence theories might be schematized this way:
X [a, b, c, d…]
where X is a set of claims (a, b, c, d) that are all mutually consistent. The justification for any individual claim within the set will call upon its relation to all the other claims in the set — including itself — none of which is self-justifying.
Given that foundationalism ends in a self-justifying justifer, it tries to avoid “brute assumption” by claiming that it’s ‘end point’ is not merely *assumed* but is self-justifying.
Coherence theories try to say that circular justifications — where there is no final self-justifying ground, and where the claims we’re trying to justify show up in the justification themselves — avoid *vicious* circularity because the circularity is fine given the presence of the requisite degree of internal coherence.
Hope that helps.
I think I understand it a bit more now – thanks. But as usually with philosophy it yields only more questions…
To reassure I get the theories (just on their on, not going to compare) right: Coherence theories are a bit like a puzzle. With every piece that fits, it gets more and more certain they are on their right place, because all fitting pieces are mutually consistent. By putting it this way, coherence theories avoid avoid “brute assumption” because there simply is no beginning/end. Foundationalism does have a beginning/end, but is avoids “brute assumption” by using a justifier that, apart from justifying something else, justifies itself.
Some questions:
Can you give an example of a self-justifying justifer or a foundationalistic theory? Because in theory it sounds okay, but I have no idea of how this would work practically.
Can a coherence theory actually proof something, aside from making it more plausible? I guess it is possible if you know everything, but then you would also know why the coherence theory is right and that fact seems to me as something you cannot put in the puzzle. Doesn’t logic describe why all those things are mutually consistent and therefore stands outside these mutually consistent things?
I’m beginning to wonder why there should be a way for us to determine whether something is right or wrong. Perhaps things simply are and thats it, though that wouldn’t be really satisfying either. This is called nihilism, right (ironic, asking whether is is right…)?
By the way, what do you personally think about this stuff? “We’re all idiots”?
A classic example of a self-justifying justifier is what the Stoics called a “catacleptic impression.” ‘Catacleptic’ gives us our word ‘cognitive.’ It literally means something like “closing one’s fist around.” A catacleptic or cognitive impression is an impression (on the mind, by the world) in which we literally *grasp* the thing itself. The Stoics argued that catacleptic impressions cannot be mistaken, since they are a direct grasping of the thing itself; therefore, they can serve as the foundation of our knowledge.
Sense-data is a mid-twentieth-century version of the catacleptic impression, after it’s been run through the Cartesian mill: we can be mistaken about the world, but we cannot be mistaken about our sense-data (the ‘impressions’ that are, presumably, put in our minds by the world). For much modern epistemology, the problem has been to find a way to ‘bridge the gap’ separating the ‘indubitable’ contents of our minds from the world as it is independent of our minds.
Why justify?
What stumps me about all of this is not the questions raised, but why you would waste your time trying to answer the question in the first place. Seems kinda pointless.
Let me explain:
From my impressions, it seems like you are saying there are two ‘points’ in justification, namely concensus and verification.
On the first point, justification doesn’t seem like a very effective means of achieving consensus. Rather, experience would indicate that there are many other better ways of achieving this, like for instance coercion, emotional or physical bribery, indoctrination. All the great concensus builders – politicians, authorities, law-makers, capitalists, etc. – seem to reiterate this conclusion.
(And on a related point, does concensus even matter? Who cares what other folks think?!)
On the second point, agreeing about something isn’t going to make it true. The proof is in the pudding, so to speak. Reality is going to decide what is real, no matter how hard we try to convince ourselves otherwise.
All this might sound offensive, but I am really getting a strong impression that I’m missing something here. None of it makes sense to me.
Please enlighten me.
Why attempt to justify our beliefs? Out of an interest in, or respect for, the truth, of course.
If you don’t care about truth — if you don’t care to know whether any of your beliefs are actually true — then there’s no reason I or anyone else can given you that would convince you to care. But if you do care, and I think most people do (humans, I think, are hardwired not just to believe things, but to believe things with certainty), then the question seems a perfectly natural one: “Which of my beliefs are true?” or (perhaps more likely) “What makes my beliefs true”/”Why is it that I’m so totally right about everything and everyone else is so totally wrong?”
Furthermore, you say that justification seems to (attempt to) serve two purposes: verification, and the establishment of consensus. Let me say a few words about this.
I can’t say much about consensus. It’s too big a topic. I agree that, unfortunately, argument is rarely an effective means of convincing someone of something. (This problem is part of what skepticism diagnoses.) Recall, though, that most of my post was given over to discussing ‘rational’ people. The ‘rational’ person as I’ve described her is bound by what I call the philosophical epistemic norm, according to which one ought to believe (ought to assent to) only that which philosophy (reason) has certified as true (has justified). My point is that even such ‘rational’ people are going to end up tying themselves in cognitive knots.
Now, as to verification, it’s interesting that you collapse verification into consensus, by suggesting that the only way to verify something is to achieve consensus regarding it. Now, this is a view some philosophers hold (in fact, it’s rather in vogue among epistemologists influenced by Hegel, who, on one interpretation, held an ‘enduring communal consensus’ theory of truth). But it’s hardly obvious that this is the case. As you point out, just because everyone believes something doesn’t — on the face of it, anyway — mean that it’s true. But we’re not constrained to hold a consensus theory of truth.
Sorry. I’m kinda new to this. This is the first time in years that I’ve participated in any kind of philosophical debate. Obviously I’m very rusty at this.
What I meant by agreeing (in the second point) was the agreement between belief/knowledge/etc. and justification. Stupid me for not clarifying.
Firstly, the Callan thread seemed to suggest that concensus is significant. If not so sorry for my mistake.
Concerning your reply, I don’t care about truth, as a matter of fact. I gave up on it years ago. It just seems like if there was anything to it, someone would have found the fundamental incontestible truth ages ago.
I don’t agree that life without truth is impossible
Instead, my philosophical journey has taken me closer to the existential idea of authenticity. My own take on this is that the ideal belief is that which provides the greatest internal consistency between experiences in any given situation. The ultimate aim then is not certainty, but unity in purpose.
In layman’s terms, rather than trying my best to be sure of my beliefs, I accept that I must act in the midst of uncertainty (and consequently the uncertainty of success) and instead focus my efforts on not undermining my own actions through unknowingly pursuing conflicting ends. In short, I seek certainty in my self rather than certainty in the world.
Obviously its more complicated than this, but I’m not here to preach my own views. I’m just pointing out that I think there is a credible alternative to truth. I don’t agree that we need it.
What my real question was is whether truth is necessary. Why can’t we act in ignorance? After all, experience suggests that this is what we do all the time, and the world hasn’t ended yet. We would want to be certain, but this doesn’t seem likely to happen any time soon.
Isn’t this similar to the conclusion which you also reach? Why then bugger around with questions of truth?
Yet at the same time, you seem to imply that uncertainty is an important question to pursue.
But if certainty is a failure, isn’t uncertainty as well? Shouldn’t you be looking for a completely new tack?
Hence, why the concern with justification?
I hope I’ve made my point clearer.
Long time lurker, first time poster. First of all, I apologize for my english but I’m not a native speaker. I learned my english trying to translate Metallica’s and Bob Dylan’s lyrics :)… so be patient with me, I’ll do the best that I can and I hope you’ll understand.
I studied Philosophy at the university and I allways loved epistemology. It’s strange to realize that so many persons who are interested in philosophy like myself share the passion for fantasy. Maybe Scott is right when he talks about the links between the philosophical and “fantastical” views of the word. But sadly, maybe that speaks even about the pretense of contemporary philosophy :).
Btw, I never finished my study unfortunately and I’m not exptert as you off course, but I had nearly finished an interesting piece about Popper’s epistemology… and I shared the same arguments of your piece there (especially about the Trilemma… even if in my paper it was called the Munchausen trilemma).
Long way short, even if I agree that human are stupid (I would add that I’m probably the greatest stupid of them), I have a very pragmatic question for the skeptic in you: If all you say is true, if we are all just like Jon Snow in that we do not know nothing :), how can airplanes fly? How can we reach Mars with a wireless robot? How can we make satellites fly over the earth and trasmits data between different receivers in the most remote places of our little planet at the fringe of the milky way?
Welcome!
First off, your questions are good ones, and very natural ones to have at this juncture. Recall, though, that the ‘conclusion’ I reached in this post was clearly unsatisfactory as it stands: if, as far as we know, we know nothing, then we know that we don’t know that we know anything (if you follow me) — which means that we know something after all!
This is a version of the ‘cognitive knot’ that reflecting on our reflection ties us into. But it’s not the end of the story. The second half of the story will address the sort of pragmatic concerns you raise.
Even so, we can ask the following questions: Do airplanes fly? Have we put wireless robots on Mars, or launched satellites into space? You seem to think so. How do you know? If you’re ‘rational’ in the way I describe in my post, then you’ll agree that (1) if you claim to know these things, then you have a standing epistemic responsibility to justify those beliefs if they are challenged, (2) there are constraints on what can count as a valid justification, and (3) if you cannot come up with a valid justification, then you’re rationally constrained to give up your knowledge-claim.
Now, consider the following. All of the things you claim to know (airplanes, Mars, satellites) are situated in the world. But what is the world? The only way for me to properly understand what you mean by claiming that ‘airplanes fly’ is to understand what you take the world to be. I assume you’re a ‘commonsense realist,’ i.e., that you believe there exists a world independent of our (or any beings’) perception of it. Airplanes, Mars, etc., exist in this way, in which case you’re claiming knowledge of things in a mind-independent world.
But how do you know that the world is mind-independent? How do you justify your conception of airplanes, Mars, etc. — all these things you claim to know about — over against the conceptions of, say, Tantric Hindus, who believe that all the world is the Dream of Shiva and that we are all Shiva, in which case the ‘world’ is just our dream? Airplanes ‘exist’ qua ‘Shiva-dream’ airplanes, but — in the sense I assume you’re talking about — they do not exist, they do not fly, etc.
I invite you to try to justify your commonsense beliefs. I think you’ll find it’s difficult to avoid what I’ve called “brute assumption,” which tends to manifest itself in the form of — from weak to strong — amusement at disagreement, scoffing at blatant irrationality, insistence that things just are a certain way, and finally foot-stomping dogmatism.
Roger wrote:
“How do you know the world is mind independent?”
There is only one honest answer and that is to admit one doesn’t know, but assumes it anyhow. This simplifying assumption is helpful for navigating whatever “this” is. It’s also a very parsimonious assumption that jives well with what science has discovered (although I admit that’s very circular given that science assumes the conformity of the laws of physics).
If you catch me drunk, or in a particularly artsy mood I might start spouting nonsense about how this view actually makes no sense given the Explanatory Gap blahblahblah… but later I’d insist I was just trolling.
The goal of Pyrrhonism as I understand it is to demonstrate our apparent ignorance of even the most seemingly obvious things — our inability to (fully) justify anything — in order to transform our second-order doxastic attitude, that is, our attitude toward our beliefs.
Pyrrhonism has a therapeutic intent, in other words. The thought is that being forced to reach the “honest” conclusion that “one doesn’t know” can have a transformative effect on us, one that — by the skeptic’s lights — makes us better people.
My favorite, melodramatic example is this: a Pyrrhonian might very well believe in God (Montaigne was a Pyrrhonian and a Catholic), but he’s unlikely to burn another person at the stake for failing to share his belief. (There’s much more to be said about this, of course, but I hope you can see where I’m coming from — and where I’m going — with this.)
“…if, as far as we know, we know nothing, then we know that we don’t know that we know anything (if you follow me) — which means that we know something after all!”
But that statement, or perhaps deduction should be a better word, you reach by using logic, taking you back to the beginning of the story – how do you know that logic is right?
To many philosophers the believe “we know nothing” seems very important, but I’d argue the believe that that might also be wrong is also very important, maybe just as important. It’s because of two reasons:
1) As I said: “you reach that knowledge by using logic, yet you also reasoned that logic might be wrong”.
2) And as you said “humans, I think, are hardwired not just to believe things, but to believe things with certainty”. I think this is also what you (not referring to you, delavagus, or anyone in particular now) do when you say “I know nothing”. You unawarely state your conclusion as something that sounds like a truth, because otherwise you would have this unsatisfactorily feeling of doubt even more.
Ancient skeptical arguments are ad hominem, not in the sense of attacking the person instead of the argument, but in the sense of basing the argument on premises accepted by the skeptic’s interlocutor. If the interlocutor is someone who ‘believes in the power of logic and reason’ (or however you want to put it), then the skeptic will use reason and logic to force their interlocutor into a contradiction or unresolvable paradox. In this case (putting it crudely): “If logic/reason is right, then logic/reason is wrong.”
Your last point is very perceptive, I think. The goal of Pyrrhonism is suspension of judgment — neither to deny nor assert — unlike modern skepticism, which is a negative position (a ‘positively negative’ position, as it were: positively stating that, e.g., ‘nothing is/can be known’). I think it’s clear — Sextus certainly thought so — that suspension of judgment is more difficult to maintain (psychologically, not logically) than epistemic nihilism, since even epistemic nihilism is a covertly positive position — it has a definite view.
I really don’t get the nuanced difference between “suspension of judgment” and “nothing is/can be known”. Seems to me one is the consequence of the other.
Or at least the only difference is that one is waiting for something that may or not happen, while the other is done waiting.
It’s like the difference between being an atheist and being agnostic.
Well, right. But I’d side with the agnostic. “I don’t have the means to say so”.
But then “nothing can be known” IS agnostic.
Nothing can be known because we lack the tools. Nihilism is not absolute. It’s relative to the human condition.
You may enjoy indulging in philosophy, but you eventually need to come down to the earth level. You are a human being.
So, as a human being: nothing can be known. So says the agnostic.
I think your “suspension of judgment” is a luxury about not needing to make a choice. It’s wishful thinking. It’s a philosophical idea not grounded in reality.
Compare: “God doesn’t exist,” and “I don’t know whether God exists.”
These are not equivalent statements.
Neither are the following statements: “Nothing can be known,” and “I don’t know if anything can be known.”
An atheist must say: “I know that God does not exist.”
An agnostic is allowed to say: “I don’t think God exists, but I don’t know that he doesn’t exist.”
In the same way, a negative dogmatist (i.e., a modern skeptic) says: “I know that nothing can be known.”
But a Pyrrhonian, who suspends judgment, says, “It seems to me that, given the standards of rationality with which I’m acquainted, nothing can be known, but I don’t know whether that’s true or not.”
The Pyrrhonian suspends judgment not in order to avoid making a choice, but because he *cannot* make a choice — there are no grounds for choosing.
But all of this merely leads to issues I’ll address in my next post, concerning the practical side of Pyrrhonism. Like all Hellenistic philosophical schools, Pyrrhonism is above all a way of life, grounded in reality, not a mere ‘philosophical idea.’
First of all, thanks a lot for the in-depth reply. I would have never thought that my questions could deserve such attention. I had to explain my position a little bit more if I have to reply to your points. I don’t know if I’m able to do justice to your points and if my following post will make any kind of sense, but I’ll try. Again, apology in advance.
It’s hard to define ourselves, isn’t it? The moment you brand yourself, the moment you “loose” an argument. You suppose that I’m a commonsense realist and it’s my “fault” since my questions are clearly based on that kind of tradition. I try to avoid definition for my view of the world, but if I had to use a term to explain it in very broad strokes I would say that I’m a nihilist who at the end believes that “only death is real”.
To explain a little bit further, I believe that the universe is hostile and that it’s a pretty nasty place with all those black holes and dirty stuff. Like every being caught in that struggle against the laws of the universe we call evolution, the human need some artificial or natural tool to overcome the competition in the control of his potential natural niche.
Knowledge is a tool, it’s our final weapon in the war against the universe’s hostility. Thus, knowledge is an historical and biological result as much as a work of rationality and logic. In that sense the foundation of our knowledge do not matters a lot. What matters are the pratical result of our attempts to control our niche, at least as a species.
I seem to recall that the sumerian were able to calculate the position of each and every planets and stars in the sky with the same precision of a modern calculator even if their astronomy was completely screwed up and their epistemology was completely dogmatic. Still, their crops were planted fine because of it and no one questioned the common knowledge or the foundation of it.
I suppose that in a best case scenario, we start to question the foundations of our knowledge only when tecnology/society comes to bottlenecks. But sometimes we start to question the content and the foundation of our knowledge even because of fashion and such as prooved by Kuhn (ie: relation between heliocentrism and the predominance of the sun in classical astrology, wich was “the cool thing” in the european courts at the time of Keplero).
My point is: I agree, there is no way to avoid the implication of the trilemma and to express a rational foundation of our knowledge in pure formal terms. Maybe I’m a reductionist or an irrationalist but there is no escape: the foundation of our knowledge will allways be based upon irralitional and dogmatic claims. I accept rational discourse but I think that it’s impossible to reach a foundation of knowledge.
As individuals we are doomed to be really stupid and to know only what we do not know (as a species maybe we are smarter than pigs and chickens). So, what’s the point acting like we’re any kind of smart? As sad as it is, we can only avoid the question about foundation using arbitrary and dogmatic claims to evidence. We have just to look at our knowledge in historic terms and thinking at the history of the earth, it’s a laughably short story. Thus, maybe our knowledge does not even deserve more than irrational and dogmatic foundations, at least when it works with planes, satellite and robots.
That’s where my nihilism meet commonsense realism. How do I know that history, evolution and the hostile universe I live in are not the dreams of Shiva? I do not know. But I know that if I hit a wall with my car going at full speed, my bones will be crushed and mixed like a milkshake (I hope you see the nihilistic nuance of my realism there 🙂 ). Shiva or not I would feel a lot of (almost) real pain if someone do not drug me or play with my brain.
Since I’m not ever going to know if I’m leaving in the dream of Shiva or not, I have not a lot of alternatives to accept reality as it looks like, taking for granted that planes, robots and satellites are real. At least if I want to avoid feeling a lot of pain.
Sorry, I screwed up with the reply function! Hope you can pardon me for making a mess.
Mr. Eichorn, thanks so much for posting this.
The timing of this post couldn’t be better. I found it to be well written (easy to understand for a novice like me), informative and helps me to better understand some of the arguments presented in a couple of essays that I am currently reading from the work
Moonshadows: Conventional Truth in Buddhist Philosophy. The first essay is Can a Madhyamika Be a Skeptic? by George Dreyfus and the second essay is Madhyamaka & Classical Greek Skepticism by George Dreyfus and Jay L. Garfield. Both of these essays discuss attempts at understanding Madhymaka philosophy in the context of Pyrrhonian skepticism.
God I love TPB!
Thanks for mentioning the new book. I hadn’t come across it before. I’ll have to pick up a copy.
I’ve met Garfield before (he went to grad school with one of my undergraduate professors). He’s very, very sharp. I highly recommend his Empty Words, a collection of essays. I’ve been drawing on his paper, reprinted there, on Pyrrhonism and Mahdyamika since I first read it years ago.
I have added Empty Words to my Amazon wishist.
I first started reading Buddhist philosophical literature a few years ago and the very first thing I read was Jay Garfield’s translation of Nagarjuna’s Mūlamadhyamakakārikā (Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way). I have since read his translation of Tsong Khapa’s Ocean of Reasoning. I look forward to reading more of his work.
Thank you!
Sorry for the offtopic. Anasûrimbor Kellhus is fighting at suvudu cagematch 2012. You can support him by voting at http://sf-fantasy.suvudu.com/2012/03/cage-match-2012-round-1-anasurimbor-kellhus-versus-ray-lilly.html.
You might like to mention the Suvudu Cage Match that is currently occurring. Kellhus is up against Ray Lilly and the votes are very close!
http://sf-fantasy.suvudu.com/2012/03/cage-match-2012-round-1-anasurimbor-kellhus-versus-ray-lilly.html
I have to say that I’m pretty embarrassed to be a fan of the series after seeing the comments over on suvudu. Yikes.
Following up on that: Scott, you’d be proud to know that your fans proved one of your adages correct: that overzealousness and rudeness towards one side causes the other side to mobilize and work against that first side even more.
Pity that it was Kellhus losing, but I thought it was pretty funny that the primary reason that Kellhus lost the contest was because a couple of PoN fans started insulting other fans and the author and the author decided to start talking about it and pointing out the rudeness. If it wasn’t for that guy chances are Kellhus would have won easily.
“Sense-data is a mid-twentieth-century version of the catacleptic impression, after it’s been run through the Cartesian mill: we can be mistaken about the world, but we cannot be mistaken about our sense-data (the ‘impressions’ that are, presumably, put in our minds by the world).”
I am blue-yellow color blind. Does this imply that I could be mistaken about sense data?
No, not according to sense-data theory. Being mistaken about your sense-data in this case would amount to your being mistaken about the fact that you’re (what we call) ‘blue-yellow color blind’ (more precisely: being mistaken about the impressions that give rise to the characterization of you as being blue-yellow color blind).
If your worry is about the disconnect between reality (in all its blue-and-yellow glory) and your impressions, that’s not what’s at issue. Sense-data theories invariably depend on, or give rise to, a ‘Cartesian gap,’ that is, a gap between mind and world. You can be mistaken about the world, but you cannot be mistaken about (certain of the) contents of your mind.
Moreover, it has been argued that the world is not actually colored at all, that colors are not ‘primary qualities’ of the world, but only ‘secondary qualities,’ dependent for their existence on a perceiver. If this is right, then there is no ‘color-gap’ between mind and world, since the world is not colored. In this case, your ‘blue-yellow color blind’ sense-data is just as valid as anyone else’s. But regardless, it’s certainly valid qua sense-data.