Fiction Nation: Can This Be True?

Section 6: Can This Be True?

The Nature of Truth in Fictions

In exploring the concept that nations, economies, money, legal systems, and even sports are fictions, we confront a fundamental question: can this be true? The answer hinges on our understanding of truth and reality. If we define truth as correspondence to an objective, external reality, then fictions, by their nature, are not “true” in a literal sense. However, if we recognize that truth can also be a construct shaped by human perception and social agreements, then fictions hold a different kind of truth.

Fictions are true in the sense that they have real effects on our lives. They shape our behaviours, influence our decisions, and structure our societies. The value of money, the authority of laws, and the significance of national identities are all real because we collectively believe and act as if they are. This shared belief and action give fictions their power and their truth.

Philosophical Perspectives

Philosophers have long grappled with the nature of truth and reality. The concept of social constructs aligns with the ideas of thinkers like Michel Foucault, who argued that knowledge and power are intertwined, and that what we accept as truth is often a product of social and historical processes. Similarly, Jean Baudrillard’s concept of hyperreality suggests that in the postmodern world, the line between reality and simulation becomes blurred, and fictions can become more real than reality itself.

These perspectives challenge the notion of an objective, immutable truth, suggesting instead that truth is often contingent, context-dependent, and constructed through human interactions. In this light, the fictions that structure our world are as true as any other aspect of our lived experience.

Empirical Evidence

Empirical evidence supports the idea that fictions have real effects. For instance, studies in economics and sociology demonstrate how beliefs and narratives shape market behaviours and social norms. The placebo effect in medicine, where patients experience real improvements in health due to their belief in a treatment, exemplifies the power of belief in creating tangible outcomes.

Historical examples further illustrate this point. The Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, which established the modern system of nation-states, was a legal and diplomatic construct that reshaped political boundaries and identities. The creation of fiat currencies, which derive their value from collective trust rather than intrinsic worth, has revolutionized global economies.

Practical Implications

Recognizing the constructed nature of our social realities has practical implications. It empowers us to critically examine and potentially reshape the fictions we live by. This critical awareness fosters adaptability and innovation, allowing us to address contemporary challenges more effectively.

For example, understanding that economic systems are human-made constructs can inspire alternative models that prioritize sustainability and equity. Similarly, recognizing the fictional nature of national identities can promote more inclusive and cosmopolitan forms of belonging.

Ethical Considerations

While fictions can be powerful tools for organizing society, they also carry ethical considerations. The manipulation of fictions for political or economic gain can lead to exploitation and injustice. It is crucial to approach the construction and perpetuation of fictions with a sense of responsibility and a commitment to the common good.

Transparency, inclusivity, and critical engagement are key to ensuring that the fictions we create serve the interests of all members of society. This requires ongoing dialogue and reflection to align our social constructs with our evolving values and aspirations.

Conclusion

The notion that we live in a world of fictions is both profound and practical. It challenges us to rethink our assumptions about truth and reality, and to recognize the power of collective belief and social constructs in shaping our lives. By embracing this perspective, we gain the ability to question, reform, and innovate the fictions that structure our world, fostering a more just and dynamic society.

In acknowledging the constructed nature of our social realities, we affirm the human capacity for imagination and creativity. This recognition opens up possibilities for envisioning and creating new fictions that better reflect our values and aspirations, guiding us toward a more equitable and sustainable future.

PS: Apologies for the AI typo in the thumbnail image. I fixed it once, and it went missing. Perhaps. I’ll mend it later.

References

  1. Graeber, David. Debt: The First 5,000 Years (2011).
  2. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (1975).
  3. Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation (1981).
  4. Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (1983).
  5. Giddens, Anthony. The Consequences of Modernity (1990).
  6. Beck, Ulrich. Cosmopolitan Vision (2006).

Objective Challenges

I’ve just published this video on YouTube, and I want to extend the commentary.

Video: What do Objective, Relative, and Subjective mean in philosophy?

Many people I’ve encountered don’t seem to grasp the distinctions between objective, subjective, and relative. Subjective and relative seem to be the biggest culprits of confusion. Let’s focus on morality just because.

There are really two main perspectives to adopt. If one believes in Objective Morality, one believes morality derives from some external source and is bestowed or mandated upon us. The source might be important to the believer, but it’s unimportant for this article. If one believes in Relative Morality then the source is socially dictated and has similar challenges to the notions of Social Contract Theory insomuch as one may not subscribe to the expectations.

For the Objective moralist, there may exist a schism between the expectations of the mandate and the subjective feelings of the individual. In fact, this may occur for Relative moralists as well. The individual will always maintain some subjective perspective on morality and then compare and contrast it with the higher order, whether Objective or Relative. In either case, acting on this subjective impulse risks being at odds with the members of the higher order. If this morality is codified into law – as it often is – then to act on that impulse makes one a criminal.

Take abortion for example. Whether this is an edict from God or just a social construct doesn’t matter. If one is in a society where abortion is seen as ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’, one’s subjective position on the matter is of little value. However, a Relativist society might also adopt a position of tolerance that is less likely to come from Objectivists.

A challenge is that a Subjectivist may only become apparent if one is counter the Relative or Absolute position. If your society is against abortion and you are, too, is this your subjective position or have you been indoctrinated with it and accept it uncritically, whether it’s deemed Objective or Relative.

Perhaps you feel that eating dogs or monkeys is immoral if not disgusting, but if you had been reared in a culture that does this, you might find it immoral to eat pork or beef. The question remains, is this a Subjective position, or did you merely inherit the Objective or Relative stance?

This question is very apparent in which religion one adopts. It is no surprise that the largest factor in which religion you choose is the religion of your family and their family and so on – so not so much a choice.

I was raised in a WASP family in New England among predominately Italian Roman Catholic peers. Despite this, I identified as an atheist early on. In my late teens, I stumbled on Buddhism and identified with it. However, I remain ignostic except when it encroaches on my personal autonomy – for example in the case of laws restricting access to safe abortions.

Capitalism Unmasked: The New Age Slavery?

Fast forward a century. The future’s looking back, not with nostalgia but with a critical eye. Will they see our age of capitalism as we see the era of slavery – a moral misstep, a societal blight?

2023: Here we are, knee-deep in capitalism. It’s everywhere, in every transaction, every ambition. But beneath the veneer of progress and prosperity, there’s a darker narrative unfolding.


Wage Slaves in a Modern World

Wage slavery is the reality for many in a capitalist system where survival hinges on selling labour. The concept? Simple yet brutal. People are chained not by physical shackles but by economic necessity, a cycle of paycheck-to-paycheck existence. It’s freedom, but only in the loosest sense.


The Surplus of Inequality

Wage surplus – the lifeblood of capitalism. The more you squeeze out of workers, the fatter the profits. It’s a game of numbers where human cost rarely figures. The working class toil, and the upper echelons reap the rewards. Sounds familiar? It’s a throwback to the days of slavery, just dressed in modern garb.


Capitalists’ Dark Fantasy

A state of slavery – every capitalist’s secret fantasy? Perhaps not all, but for the ruthless, it’s the ultimate dream. A world where workers are mere cogs in the machine, dispensable and replaceable. No rights, no voice, just endless labour for minimal reward.


The Capitalist Paradox

Here’s the paradox – capitalism, in theory, champions freedom and innovation. But in practice, it often veers towards oppression and exploitation. The gap between the haves and have-nots widens, and social mobility becomes a myth, reserved for fairy tales.


The Future’s Judgment

In 2123, will they shake their heads at our era? Will they wonder how we allowed economic systems to morph into modern-day slavery? How we sold our souls for the illusion of prosperity?


A Glimmer of Hope?

But the tide is turning. Voices of dissent are rising, challenging the status quo. The call for a fairer, more humane economic model grows louder. There’s hope yet that we’ll steer away from the shadow of capitalism’s excesses.


Conclusion

As the world spins on, we’re at a pivotal moment. Will we continue down this path, or will we pivot towards a more equitable future? The choices we make today will echo through the annals of history.


Call to Action

What’s your stance? Is capitalism veering too close to a modern form of slavery? Drop your thoughts below. Let’s ignite a dialogue.

Unwitting Carnivores?

Children are ethically indisposed to think it’s wrong to eat animals. This article from the Journal of Environmental Psychology published a year ago looks into the schism and cognitive dissonance assuaging mechanisms in play.

This study relied on a small sample size (n=176), between the ages of 4 and 7 years living in a metropolitan area located in the southeastern region of the United States. The sample was otherwise diverse.

As this study was limited in geographic scope (see WIERD on a tangential note), it noted that eating habits vary by culture. For example, eating horse (or dog) meat is not condoned in the United States, but it is acceptable in many other places.

In summary, the childer were shown cards each with a picture of an item, whether a French fry, a horse, a cat, a fish, a tomato, and so on. At the start, they were asked to identify the item represented on the card. Next, they were asked to put the card into one of two bins, each decorated to approximate an animal or vegetation. Finally, they were asked to sort the cards into two areas, one represented by false teeth indicating edible products and a rubbish bin representing inedible items.

The subjects did a fair job of identifying the card items. They had very high image recognition of these particular animals. On the lower end of recognition were hamburger (ground beef patty), almonds, and shrimp. There was a difference between the older children and the younger children, but this may relate to the added acculturation their age would bring.

Without delving deeply into details, in this study, most 6- and 7-year-olds classified chicken, cows, and pigs as not OK to eat. The interesting cognitive trick is that these children also classified these derivative food items as non-animals thus removing the cognitive dissonance. No longer classified as an animal, their ethical framework remained internally coherent.

In discussing the results, many children were ill-informed about the source of various food products. Language games obscured the source. No one should eat a cow, but beef is fine—a hamburger is fine. Hot dogs grow on trees, don’t they?

This reminds me of the story wherein a chicken and a pig are conversing, and the chicken suggests that it and the pig go into the restaurant business. The pig considers the proposition and declines by the rationale that it would be committed but the chicken would only be involved. Children may believe that hot dogs are a by-product like eggs, fur, or feathers—don’t get me started on the down used in pillows, jackets, and comforters—rather than grasping that the animals yield these products at the expense of their lives.

Some people grow up and realise the inconsistency of their ethics and actions, but they find any number of ways to reconcile their actions, noting that the activity is normal and natural.

FULL: DISCLOSURE: For the record, I eat chicken, turkey (on festive holidays in lieu of chicken), and I eat beef (that’s cows, for the uninformed). I also consume some animal byproducts, i.e., chicken eggs and cheese. I also wear leather. I was a vegetarian for about three years until I opted to become a chickenatarian. My life partners goaded me into eating beef, and so I’ve since added that. In all cases, I feel bad for eating defenceless, sentient beings. I’m not sure it serves as any consolation that I limit my consumption to these three animals—or even if it were only one. For the record, I don’t particularly like the taste of turkey or beef, but it’s not offensive like pork, coffee, or alcohol. Chicken, I like. Sorry chickens.

Video: Homer Simpson’s (not so) ethical dilemma

For the record, this is post number 500 on Philosophics. Perhaps I should write a post about it.

Moral Binaries

At heart, I’m an Emotivist. Following Ayer, I don’t believe that morals (and their brethren ethics) convey more than, “I like this, and I don’t like that.” Stevenson’s Prescriptivist extension makes sense, too: “I think this is good, and so should you.”

It seems that Hilary Lawson and I share this perspective. He makes the further point, one I’ll surely adopt, that morals and ethics are effectively ‘designed’ to shut down argument and discussion. It’s akin to the parent telling the kid, “Because I said so”—or “because it’s the right thing to do”.

Podcast: Audio rendition of this page content

I’m a moral non-cognitivist, but people have difficulty enough grasping relativism and subjectivism, so I’m only going to reference moral relativism here. As a moral relativist, right and wrong were both subjective and contextual. One person’s freedom fighter is another person’s terrorist. I won’t derail this with obvious examples. Once one adopts a position, they enjoy the luxury of turning off any critical thinking.

I’ll presume that morals predate religion and deities, but now that the thinking world has abandoned the notion of gods, they’ve replaced it with morals and ethics—and nature, but that’s a topic for another day. The faith-based world retains a notion of gods, but that is fraught with the same relativism of my god is right, and your god is wrong.

As Hilary notes, we’ve transferred the authority, per Nietzsche, from gods to morals in and of themselves, so it again becomes a device for the unengaged. He notes, as I do, that some absolute Truth is a fool’s errand. Echoing Donald Hoffman, what we need is fitness—what Lawson calls usefulness—, not Truth, which is inaccessible anyway—even if it did exist, which of course it doesn’t.

He cites the position Wittgenstein arrives at in his Tractatus. There is and can never be a place where language—words and symbols—intersect with ‘reality’, so the best we can do is to talk about it in a third-person sort of way.

As I consider the works of McGilchrist, it feels like Lawson is establishing moral simplicity as a left hemisphere function. Seeing beyond this is a right hemisphere activity, so that’s not promising. There seem to be few right-brain thinkers and then it comes to convincing the left-brain crowd. In a poor metaphor, the challenge is rather like trying to convey the maths of special relativity to the same crowd. They are going to tune out before they hear enough of the story. The left-brain is good at saying, ”la la la la, la la, la”.  

Without getting too far off track, a major challenge is that systems of government and laws are facile left hemisphere-dominant activities. These are people in power and influential. Rhetoricians have right hemisphere dominance, but they understand that their power depends on defending the status quo that has elevated them to where they are. As Upton Sinclair said, “’It is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it.” This holds true for women and non-binary others.

In closing, Lawson asserts that apart from comic book supervillains, people tend to do what they believe to be good, and yet all goods are not created equally, nor all bads. And in the manner that one person’s trash is another’s treasure, one person’s good is another’s bad.

This moral discourse is not benign. It’s dangerous. I don’t want to steep this in contemporary politics, but this is being propagandised in things like the Ukraine conflict or the Covid response. If you’re not with us, you’re against us. This is divisive and creates a rift. That governments are propagating this divide is even more disconcerting, especially when they unapologetically backtrack only a few months later in the wake of people suffering economic impacts, including getting fired, for opposing a position that has turned out to be wrong and that was being asserted in the name of science and yet with little empirical support. These people are politicians and not scientists but attempting to hide behind science like a human shield, it serves to erode trust in science. Trust in science is a separate topic, so I’ll leave it there.

I recommend watching the complete video of Hilary Lawson to gain his perspective and nuance. My point is only to underscore his positions and to say that I agree. What do you think about morals? Are they a device to assert power over others, or is there something more to it than this? If not moral, then what? Leave a comment.

Quarantine and Social Justice

Gregg Caruso is interested in the notion of Agency from the perspective of justice, desert, and sentencing. This is applied philosophy.

My main argument against the possibility of free will is Nietzsche-Strawson’s causa sui argument, which I’ve touched on a few times by now, but I haven’t yet fully articulated my position. I’ll get to that another day. I’d also like to create another video, as I would like to do for this as I explore in more detail.

Ostensibly, this is a compatibilist view that leaves a modicum of free will, even with causa sui in place. I hope this illustration will be helpful.

In the centre of the illustration is you, the self of some arbitrary person who shall act as our subject. Let’s assume a couple of basic premises:

  1. We either live in a relaxed causal, deterministic or indeterministic universe.
  2. Causa sui is in full force and effect: one cannot cause any aspect of one’s self.

I include the term relaxed in the first premise, so I don’t have to deal with a fully deterministic universe governed entirely by the notion captured by Schrödinger’s equation. The second premise is in place to serve as a limitation: even if consciousness is an emergent property, its emergence doesn’t grant some insuperable metaphysical powers. One cannot reach outside of one’s self.

The scenario plays out as follows. You have been apprehended for violating some statute. Let’s say that you’ve taken an item from a retail store. As you are leaving the store, the police stop you. When asked if you took the item, you answer in the affirmative. This is a very efficient municipality, so you are taken immediately to a magistrate to make a plea.

In this scenario, Caruso is your attorney at law. His argument is that, given causa sui, you cannot be responsible for who you are. We’ve been here before. Since you can’t be responsible for who you are, any sentence to punish you would be unethical, as you’ve done nothing to deserve it. This is the notion of desert in the realm of retributive justice.

The judge buys this argument, but s/he counters with three possible courses of action. You may not be responsible for who you are, but we are a community of laws. You are a victim of your circumstances, so we cannot look backwards. For whatever reason—and through no fault of your own, by definition—, you were broken relative to complying with community norms.

Social Justice

Firstly, we may wish to make an example of you, to signal the community that we will incarcerate people who break the laws. This is more a public service purpose than a punishment.

Secondly, if you had contracted a communicable disease—we’re looking at you Covid—, you can be quarantined under the consideration of the common good. Framed this way, it is not a punishment, we just don’t want it to happen again.

Lastly, we may also be justified on the grounds of rehabilitation. I highlight the ‘re‘ in rehabilitation because some people may not have been ‘habilitated’ in the first place. Perhaps think of them as feral. In any case, a computer programming analogy might make sense here.

So what’s this all about? Remember, causa sui says that you cannot be held responsible for creating yourself. The claim is that you are a product of your nature and nurture. Genetically speaking, perhaps there was some reason that you could not incorporate inputs into factors that allowed you to appropriately interpret this law—or any law, more generally. Or maybe, you were never exposed to this law or category of law before.

In the preventative vein, we could be signalling, ‘We caught You taking an item from a shop without paying. Now you know this, and we may make an example of you since you are caught as well’.

Quarantine may be a bit of a stretch in this scenario, so feel free to substitute a more serious offence if it helps you to remember this. Perhaps You killed someone. Even without punishment, we may want to get You off the streets before another killing is perpetrated. I’ll come back to this one.

Rehabilitation makes sense even if one is not responsible for one’s self. Presuming that you are a product of programming—family, culture, peers, and so on—, perhaps you just need to be rewired. Perhaps a particular subroutine was not implemented or activated correctly. This rationality could be used as a non-punitive justification.

Counterarguments

The public prevention case may be why offenders were pilloried in by-gone days. Display in a public square may inform some who may have missed the lesson the first time around, hence dissuading taking similar actions. But unless this ‘public service message’ reached enough people, it would probably not be the best rationale.

Quarantine may sound OK on the surface, but it’s actually rather specious. Firstly, that You knicked a trinket. What exactly is the risk of contagion? Petty theft is not known to be particularly communicable. Secondly, just because you’ve done something once is little measure of whether you’ll do it again. In fact, if this were true, then one might have assumed that you could never have committed the offence because of your history.

Rehabilitation may likely be the best option among these. If you missed that particular lesson or had forgotten or diminished the calculus, remediation may do just the trick. However, if your ‘operating system’ is not up to snuff, it’s not a matter of inputs. It’s a matter of processing capability.

Psychological intervention is in its infancy, so the probability of remediating this is low, if not a crap shoot. And not all such processes can be remediated. This could lead one to fall back on the quarantine option, but who is the competent assessor in this case?

It’s easy enough to assess if You is Hannibal Lecter or tells you straight out that s/he intends to repeat the offence. Some cognitive deficiencies are simple enough to recognise. But what about the grey areas—all of that space in between?

And who is making sure that the judges are not being punitive simply because they haven’t yet eaten lunch?

Enfin

Bringing this to a close, if we have no free will, it makes no sense to punish. Sadly, most justice systems promote retributive justice and punishment in sentencing. I’ll spare you my diatribe on how I believe most people attracted to jurisprudence, law, and law enforcement have been conditioned. And whilst Caruso feels justified in foreword action, I am more sceptical. This said, I’ll take what I can get.

This post is pretty much a stream of consciousness. I hope to give it better treatment in a future video.

Trolly Dilemma

Tom Guald wants us to imagine a different trolly dilemma but with a different pair of options. Or is that the telephone game?

This image speaks for itself, so I won’t editorialise at the moment, save to mention that I find the scenario to be hilarious. If you like eating cooked lobster, I suppose that the elephant path makes the most sense—and of course, the elephant is already on fire.

What would you do?

Vantage

A runner helps a competing runner to complete and win a race. The competitor had been confused, as signage was in a language foreign to him, so the other helped him out.

Iván Fernández Anaya and Adel Mutai Race

Although the debate in the comments thread on LinkedIn of whether the rules of the event supersede the overarching human condition leans heavily toward cooperation over competition, some are vehemently opposed to the thought of ‘breaking the rules’ of the contest.

I suggest that this is an issue of framing. Sporting events are a wholly contained subset of the human condition. If you visualise this as a Venn diagramme envisaged as camera lenses, you’ll see that the event is a deliberate tight shot. One with the broader human experience cropped out. But the viewer has the ability to pull back and capture a wider shot. This shot recognises factors other than winning a petty sporting event. It emphasises cooperation over competition.

There is no moral imperative here. One may adopt either lens without shame. As for me—and apparently most—, the wider shot is preferred. But a wider lens is not always the default view for humans.

Humanism

When it comes to how, as people, we fit into the larger universe, we tend to adopt a human-centric view. And one doesn’t need to be a Humanist to take this position. Most religions do this by proxy, where the gods have appointed humans as the Ones.

How can one not be a racist?

This is the same choice as whether to adopt a tight or a wide shot. And some people take an even tighter shot, where the focus is on nationality or race or colour or sex or gender or affluence or whatever. But the wide shot captures all species on the same plane. Peter Singer is the leading Western philosopher in this space. In his world, Humanism, this human-centred view, is Speciesism.

The most common responses to this charge are to dismiss it on the grounds that ‘humans are superior for reasons’ or that ‘as long as we consider the biosphere as a system, we can still take an elevated position’. I don’t truly accept either of these positions. The first is, frankly, narcissistic, as is the second, but humans have an abysmal track record when systems thinking and complexity are involved.

How can one not be a Speciesist?

The obvious question, then, akin to, ‘How can one not be a racist?’ in these #BlackLivesMatter times, is ‘How can one not be a Speciesist?’ But there are still wider lenses as we pull back to capture the entire taxonomy. We can elevate species to genus to family, order, class, phylum, kingdom, domain, or life. And why stop there except for moral convenience?

Ask yourself: What lens are you using? What is your frame? Where is your focus? What is your depth of field?

Character Arc

The US government are a crime syndicate, a veritable mafioso family. The current Don, quite literally, Donald Trump, The Don, is a conman at all levels. Some forget that conman is short for confidence man. About a quarter of the eligible voters had confidence in him–or at the least had more confidence in him than in his rival.

The US don’t have a vote of no confidence, but the impeachment process may serve as a worst case proxy. Watching the news, much f the political theatre and grandstanding revolves around the issue of character. It all sounds so tidy. A particular legal defence tactic is to impugn character. He’s got character; she doesn’t. One can’t trust that bloke even though he’s in a position presumably predicated on this character thing.

Character is a quaint notion, remnant of specious Virtue Ethics. The warring families–let’s call them Republicans and Democrats–attempt to secure the moral high ground by making a claim on the impeccability of their character pedigree. But what is character?

Character is another weasel word mired in cultural relativism. Essentially, it’s an asymptotic function wherein a person approaches some archetypal ‘good life’, as in eudaimonia. In the end, it suffers the fate of a no true Scotsman logical fallacy.