In the realm of existential contemplation, the notion of the ‘self’ is akin to a fleeting present moment. It flits into existence for a fraction of an attosecond, vanishing before our grasp. Much like the illusory present, the ‘self’ manifests briefly and then fades into the annals of the past, a mere connection of temporal slices.
When we traverse the corridors of time, we effortlessly speak of the ‘past,’ stringing together these slices into a continuous narrative. This amalgamation serves our language and thought processes, aiding idiomatic expression. Yet, it remains a construct, a fiction we collectively weave. It is akin to the frames of a movie, where the illusion of movement and coherence is crafted by arranging individual frames in rapid succession.
The ‘self’ follows a similar illusionary trajectory. It exists only inasmuch as we christen it, attributing a name to a fleeting instance of being. However, this existence is as fleeting and ephemeral as a mirage. We name it, we perceive it, but it dissolves like smoke upon closer inspection.
This existential musing reminds one of the fictional entity – the unicorn. We can name it, describe it, and even envision it, yet its tangible existence eludes us. The ‘self’ aligns itself with this enigmatic unicorn, an abstract concept woven into the fabric of human understanding.
In this dance of philosophical thought, published works echo similar sentiments. Renowned thinkers like Nietzsche, in his exploration of eternal recurrence, or Camus, delving into the absurdity of life, have grappled with the transient nature of the ‘self.’ Their writings form a canvas, painting the portrait of an existence that flits through time, leaving only traces of memory and illusion in its wake.
In conclusion, the ‘self’ is a fleeting enigma, a temporal wisp that vanishes as quickly as it appears. Like a raindrop in the river of time, it merges and dissipates, leaving behind an evanescent trace of what we conceive as ‘I’. The philosophical gaze peers through the mist, challenging the very essence of this ephemeral entity, inviting us to question the very fabric of our perceived reality.
I recently had a discussion with my son about a controversial academic topic. He was struggling to find someone willing to engage in a meaningful dialogue. People on both sides of the issue seemed either emotionally invested without evidentiary support or lacking sufficient background knowledge for substantive debate. Moreover, due to the current political correctness and cancel culture environment, even gathering new data on this unpopular subject is challenging. This exemplifies the failure of the scientific community to uphold impartial inquiry, a key factor underlying my view that scientific consensus is predicated more on rhetorical appeals than dispassionate analysis.
The topic stemmed from The Bell Curve, a 1994 book by psychologist Richard J. Herrnstein and political scientist Charles Murray. The authors argued that intelligence, as measured by IQ tests, has a strong genetic component, with race and ethnicity as statistically significant variables. Specifically, they claimed the average IQ score for whites in the US was one standard deviation higher than for blacks – 102 versus 85, as depicted in the chart below.
While the details are less relevant here, the core issue is the purported gap between racial groups. As shown, there is substantial overlap in the bell curves, but the one representing blacks is notably shifted leftward from the white curve.
As a statistician, I tend to focus more on methodological rigour and meta-analyses than the mathematical computations themselves, which I presume were executed properly.
My first consideration was the validity of IQ tests as a proxy for achievement, given the cultural biases these metrics contain. Even accepting the IQ gap argument, issues around test construction leave open the ‘so what?’ question. However, the study’s findings were largely replicated 15 years later, suggesting some robustness.
My son observed that the current sociopolitical climate would likely preclude similar research from being funded or published today. Accusations of racism would be inevitable, even for a purely academic inquiry on this topic – creating an artificial blind spot in the science.
While understandable given the history of eugenics abuses, refusing to objectively investigate testable hypotheses is antithetical to the scientific method, which relies on falsifiability and replication. Without permitting studies to potentially confirm or refute a claim, we are left guessing. This is how scientific narratives are socially constructed – not by a disinterested search for truth, but through consensus and conformity enforcement.
I am sceptical of social science approaches generally, which often appear pseudoscientific. However constructive criticism should apply equally to so-called hard sciences like physics, where incompatible models of quantum gravity and dark matter proliferate, awaiting the next paradigm shift.
In summary, my son’s concern was that even proposing this controversial thesis as a dissertation topic could lead to professional censure. Personally, I take no position on the veracity of this hypothesis. However, as a matter of scientific integrity and public policy relevance, arbitrarily declaring certain academic questions off limits seems contrary to the principles of an enlightened, post-Enlightenment society. We cannot refuse to ask difficult questions for fear of inconvenient answers.
I’ve been reengaging with philosophy, though my positions haven’t changed recently. My last change was to shift from being a qualified material realist to a qualified idealist in the shape of Analytic Idealism. In most matters I can think of, I am an anti-realist, which is to say concepts like truth and morality are not objective; rather they are mind-dependent.
I’ve long been on record of taking the stance that Capital-T Truth, moral truths, are derived rhetorically. There is no underlying Truth, only what we are aggregately convinced of, by whatever route we’ve taken. As a moral non-cognitivist, I am convinced that morality is derived through emotion and expressed or prescribed after a quick stop through logic gates. Again, there is nothing objective about morality.
Truth and morality are subjective and relative constructs. They resonate with us emotionally, so we adopt them.
Were I a theist — more particularly a monotheist —, I might be inclined to be emotionally invested in some Divine Command theory, where I believe that some god may have dictated these moral truths. Of course, this begs the question of how these so-called “Truths” were conveyed from some spirit world to this mundane world. I have no such conflict.
But let’s ask how an atheist might believe in moral realism. Perhaps, they might adopt a Naturalistic stance: we have some natural intuition or in-built moral mechanism that is not mind-dependent or socially determined. I am not a naturalist and I don’t take a universalist approach to the world, so this doesn’t resonate with me. I can agree that we have an in-built sense of fairness, and this might become a basis for some aspects of morality, but this is still triggered by an emotional response that is mind-dependent.
Another curious thing for me is why non-human animals cannot commit immoral acts. Isn’t this enough to diminish some moral universal? In the end, they are an extension of language by some definition. No language, not even a semblance of morality.
Anyway, there’s nothing new here. I just felt like creating a philosophical post as I’ve been so distracted by my health and writing.
As moral error theorists, we’re accustomed to facing criticism for our perspective. I’m a moral non-cognitivist, but there’s a significant intersection with these theories. When someone asserts that torture is wrong, I might argue that the claim is hollow, as moral wrongness is merely an emotional response masquerading as an objective moral stance. On the other hand, an error theorist would debunk this argument, stating that there’s no absolute position of right or wrong. Pragmatically, we both arrive at the conclusion that the claim cannot hold true.
Video: Is Error Theory Counterintuitive — Kane B
Intuition leads others to a different interpretation. If they believe something is true due to their epistemic certainty, then for them, it is true. Their reality is shaped by experience. Curse the limitations of sense perception and cognitive constraints. “I know what I know,” is their typical retort. Moreover, it’s a matter of practicality. “You know what I mean,” they insist.
They attempt to substitute fact with heuristics, truth with analogue, and terrain with a map. Admittedly, it’s convenient to feign an identity at play, but at best, it’s a near equivalence.
In the linked video, the example of claiming ‘that car is red’ is presented. But can cars truly be red? Not precisely. Cars can possess the property of appearing red to most individuals in specific lighting conditions, but a car cannot inherently be red. Thus, this statement is categorically false. We can assert ‘that the car appears to be red,’ and as a matter of practicality, we might designate the car as such. However, this highlights the inadequacy of language, particularly concerning abstract concepts.
A challenge arises from people’s inclination, driven by the principle of least effort, to seek simplicity and convenience, often at the expense of truth.
A challenge arises from people’s inclination, driven by the principle of least effort, to seek simplicity and convenience, often at the expense of truth. This principle underpins Occam’s Razor: choose the simplest version among competing explanations. It’s a misguided endeavour, akin to living under the notion that opposites attract rather than like attracting like.
I encounter this opposing worldview when I pinpoint certain inconsistencies or issues in the ‘real world,’ emphasizing that language is insufficient to convey adequate meaning, that there exists no objective moral centre, and that democracy is a system that falters even on paper. Almost invariably, the response is, ‘then what?’ I don’t possess the answer to ‘then what.’ I’m merely informing you that your leg is broken. I don’t need to know how to fix it for this to be true, a valid assessment.
While I’m on a roll, let’s talk about charity in philosophical argumentation, which, in my view, is another misguided concept. Why should I favour the notion that a person genuinely believes in the position they hold? It’s another heuristic rule set up to lend credence to otherwise weak arguments. We need not adhere to these boundaries—they’re nonexistent.
BONUS: I ran this content through ANTHROP/C’s Claude 2 for analysis and evaluation. I include it as an example of the bias inherent in generative AI. Whilst I realise that I am taking a polemic position—nothing new here—, Claude apes canned responses. Ironically, the same responses I am arguing against. I do agree that I could have ‘steel-manned’ my argument, but this is a blog post, not a dissertation. Perhaps another day.
Here are some thoughts on evaluating the blog post:
The author takes a strong moral non-cognitivist stance, arguing that moral claims like “torture is wrong” are not objective facts but expressions of emotion. This view aligns with moral error theory in debunking moral realism.
However, the dismissive attitude towards those who believe moral claims have truth value shows a lack of philosophical charity. The author could strengthen their position by steelmanning the opposing view before critiquing it.
The analogy between moral claims and claims like “the car is red” makes an interesting point about the inadequacy of language for capturing nuanced truth. However, more nuance could be applied in acknowledging the usefulness of simplifying language and heuristics in everyday life.
The author’s critique of Occam’s Razor and preference for complex explanations is thought-provoking but could benefit from addressing the pragmatic value of simpler models. Outright dismissing this philosophical principle seems extreme.
The call to abandon charity in argumentation in the name of absolute truth risks throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Some level of mutual understanding between interlocutors is needed for productive discourse.
Overall, while the post raises thoughtful challenges to moral realism, heuristics, and other commonly held views, the dismissive tone and lack of nuance weaken the arguments. More charity towards opposing views and addressing pragmatic concerns could strengthen the critique.
In summary, the post puts forward some provocative arguments but could benefit from greater philosophical charity, nuance, and balancing pragmatism with pursuing absolute truth. A more measured tone discussing pros and cons of different perspectives would likely lend more persuasive force.
Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could have, but I see now that it was meant to destroy me. Today I am proud to say that I am inhuman, that I belong not to men and governments, that I have nothing to do with creeds and principles. I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity – I belong to the earth! ~Henry Miller
I’ve been recovering from physical challenges that affect my mobility and ability to interface with a computer, diminishing my productivity in such matters to about 10 or 20 per cent.
I’ve been focusing my energy (besides that on recovery) on writing fiction under my Ridley Park pseudonym.
As for my physical concerns, I won’t bore you. I’d rather discuss my side project, which in the absence of employment turns out to be my primary focus. Currently, I am world-building, so I can explore philosophical and sociological issues in a safe space.
This world is contemporary Earth and the near future—at least for now, as I am leaving a lot of room to explore. Check out my Ridley Park blog if you are interested in specifics. Here, I just want to focus on the philosophical aspects and ramifications, using this story world as a reference, so I’ll provide a brief setup upon which to build.
In this world, a scientist has genetically engineered an embryo (for reasons) and ends up with quasi-vampires, a subspecies of humans—or is it? This cohort is human for all intents and purposes, except they need to ‘drink’ blood to survive. They’ve got fangs and an internal organ used to process and metabolise the blood. He decides to clone these and create a new population. In time, he improves on the genetics in the manner described here. The first short story (flash fiction) I’ve shared is Hemo Sapiens: The Unidentified, but let’s get onto the philosophical aspects.
Podcast: Audio rendtion of Hemo Sapiens: The Unidentified (Runtime: 5:25).
In this world, I shed light on what makes humans human. What happens when we need to coexist with a similar species? What if we treat them as second-class citizens? What if they become physically and intellectually superior?
Are these people a new species or a new race? Or are they just transhumans? What rights do they have? As a new race, perhaps it’s earier to fathom them and grant them human rights, but what if they are a new species? We haven’t had a great track record of granting rights to other species.
And what’s their immigration status? A common reaction to ‘immigrants’ is to ‘send them back to where they came from’. But what if they came from here? What if they were raised here and speak our language? In this case, they are raised near Manchester in the UK. They speak English. They are not only sentient beings at the start, they have above average IQs and have general cultural awareness. Some speak a second language. Save for the fangs, all outward appearances show them as human.
Until they are discovered by authorities, they are raised in a greenhouse environment. By the time they are discovered, there are five versions of them—alpha through epsilon—, and some have started reproducing, so we get to explore these dynamics, too. Some have tagged these people—are they people?—as homo sapiens sanguinius—bloodsucking intelligent man. Affectionately, I call them hemo sapiens.
I’ll return here as I produce more content there. I prefer not to create spoilers. Although I am working on several stories in different formats (short story, novella, novel, and so on), I’ll publish them (somewhere), provide literary analysis on my Ridley Park blog and provide philosophical commentary here. I hope you’ll join me and participate in the discussion.
Identity is a fiction; it doesn’t exist. It’s a contrivance, a makeshift construct, a label slapped on to an entity with some blurry amalgam of shared experiences. But this isn’t just street wisdom; some of history’s sharpest minds have said as much.
“There are no facts, only interpretations.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche
Think about Hume, who saw identity as nothing more than a bundle of perceptions, devoid of any central core. Or Nietzsche, who embraced the chaos and contradictions within us, rejecting any fixed notion of self.
Edmund Dantes chose to become the Count of Monte Cristo, but what choice do we have? We all have control over our performative identities, a concept that Judith Butler would argue isn’t limited to gender but applies to the very essence of who we are.
“I don’t feel that it is necessary to know exactly what I am. The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning.”
— Michel Foucault
But here’s the kicker, identities are a paradox. Just ask Michel Foucault, who’d say our sense of self is shaped not by who we are but by power, society, and external forces.
You think you know who you are? Well, Erik Erikson might say your identity’s still evolving, shifting through different stages of life. And what’s “normal” anyway? Try to define it, and you’ll end up chasing shadows, much like Derrida’s deconstruction of stable identities.
“No such things as selves exist in the world: Nobody ever was or had a self.”
— Thomas Metzinger
“He seemed like a nice man,” how many times have we heard that line after someone’s accused of a crime? It’s a mystery, but Thomas Metzinger might tell you that the self is just an illusion, a by-product of the brain.
Nations, they’re the same mess. Like Heraclitus’s ever-changing river, a nation is never the same thing twice. So what the hell is a nation, anyway? What are you defending as a nationalist? It’s a riddle that echoes through history, resonating with the philosophical challenges to identity itself.
“I never can catch myself at any time without a perception, and never can observe anything but the perception.”
— David Hume
If identity and nations are just made-up stories, what’s all the fuss about? Why do people get so worked up, even ready to die, for these fictions? Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s pride, or maybe it’s because, as Kierkegaard warned, rationality itself can seem mad in a world gone astray.
In a world where everything’s shifting and nothing’s set in stone, these fictions offer some solid ground. But next time you’re ready to go to the mat for your identity or your nation, take a minute and ask yourself: what the hell am I really fighting for? What am I clinging to?
Language insufficiency or the inability of language to facilitate accurate or precise communication has been a notion I’ve stressed for years. In fact, I have another post with a similar title,
Conceptual language is likely to have been formed for a purpose different to social communication. It may have been formed to facilitate internal dialogue. This language was not written and may not have even been words as we know them, but we could parse and reflect upon our experiences in this world. Eventually, we developed speech and then writing systems to share communication. We went on to develop speculative and conditional language, visions of possible futures and answers to ‘what-if’ queries.
My intent is not to create a piece with academic rigour, though I might wish to. I may not even deign to link to references I’ve accumulated over the years. They are in memory, but it takes time and effort,especially when one isn’t purposefully accumulating citations.
I was prompted to write at 4am when I read in a story that Google CEO Sundar Pichai was taking “full responsibility for the decisions that led us” to twelve-thousand-odd layoffs at the company he helms. But what is the responsibility he cites? It’s meaningless. What can it mean—that he’s sorry? Responsibility is a weasel word. That and a dollar won’t buy you a cup of coffee at Starbucks. And on one hand, he can say that at least these people were employed with income in the first place, but thqat is little consolation for the expectation of longevity. Here’s a lesson in impermenance and trust. We tend to trust companies, but the trust is rather hope. We hope they don’t let us down. Hope is another weasel word, as is trust. Trust me.
About 40% of words employed…are phatic or filler words with little objective communication value
About forty per cent of words employed in a typical day are phatic or filler words with little objective communication value, though some provide a social function. This may be superfluous, this is not insufficiency. Insufficiency stems from not being to articulate what one wants to say or the expectation to understand what is being conveyed to you. In fact, people tend to overvalue what they hear or read.
In most cases, this may not matter. As long as the content of a transmitted idea contains enough value to convey a message, this is good enough for everyday communication. “Look out! There’s a car turning into your lane.” “I’m hungry. There’s a restaurant.” “That was a good movie.” “Let’s meet at four o’clock.” In fact, much can be communicated without words—in gestures and facial expressions. It might even be argued that these vectors carry as much if not more communication content than the words we use.
IMAGE: Communication without words
“There.” I point to a drive-through restaurant ahead on the road. “I’m hungry.”
I could probably omit the there exclamation and just point. Here, words are sufficient, even if they may be redundant. There are challenges even at the fundamental level. Notably, aesthetic concepts are often nebulous.
“That restaurant is good.”
What does this statement mean to convey? Essentially, it means that I, the speaker, has been to the referenced restaurant and liked at least some of the food they tasted: “[The food at] that restaurant is good.” Perhaps, they are referring to the staff or the atmosphere. It depends on what good is qualifying. It also depends on a shared definiton of good. This is a insufficiency.
Of course, this insufficiency can be mitigated fairly quickly. Once you understand the ‘tastes’ of your interlocutor, you can parse whether the goodness also applies to you. If you don’t happen to like, say, Indian food and that is the restaurant being referenced, then you can dismiss the comment as phatic. If you don’t prefer satire, you might want to chalk up a statement like ‘M3GAN was a good movie’ to a sharing of personal information rather than a recommendation.”
Perhaps the biggest insufficiency is in the communication of abstract concepts, a category where aesthetics also sits. These are concepts such as God, love, and justice. Iain McGilchrist seems to feel that although these words may be insufficient, we all know what they mean. These are right brain notions that the left hemisphere just can’t rightly categorise. Though this might be a left brain argument, I am going to disagree by degrees.
My (hopefully not strawman) argument is that we do have subjective notions of what these things are, but the communication value is still diminished and in some cases insufficient. If my statement means to convey justice as {A, C, D, X} and the receiver understands justice to mean {A, B, C, Y, Z}, then the only shared aspect is {A,C}. If that is the only portion contextual to the conversation at hand, that’s fine. Communication has been sucessful. But is the message was meant to emphasise {Z}, then the communication is insufficient.
It could be that further conversation reveals this, but often times, a shared definition is assumed. When I say “I want justice” or “I take responsibility”, I have a notion of went denotative and connotative elements I have in mind. I expect the the receiver of my statement shares these elements.
In the case of the statement by Pichai, his notion of responsibility is clearly divergent from mine. This might fall back on some notion of blame, but he has no real repurcussions for his action. Perhaps reputationally, but like politicians, CEOs of large companies are already expected to be sociopaths with empty words, so he’s appologised with no weight, and for most people that’s good enough. The people who have been affected are just as unemployed as before. He may have arranged for a severance package, but in the case of the family referenced in the article, this means nothing because they have 60-days to become employed or they will be forced to leave the United States as a conditiopn of their H1B visa.
On a personal level, I was recently chatting with an Indian mate with an H1B visa who had just been hired after having been layed off by another company. He was racing against this 60-day clock. He had received a verbal offer, but once the company discovered that he needed sponsorship for his via, they offered him $30,000 less per year because they knew he had no bargaining power. This is just an editorial aside, so I won’t go down the rabbit hole of wage slavery, but know that I recognise the relationship and the exploitation in it.
When I have time, perhaps I’ll flesh out this notion and provide additional support. Of course, I also know that I am shovelling against the tide owing to the insufficiency of language. I won’t even start on the related topic of the rhetoric of truth.
Philosophics 