Iâm edging ever closer to finishing my book on the Language Insufficiency Hypothesis. Itâs now in its third passâa mostly subtractive process of streamlining, consolidating, and hacking away at redundancies. The front matter, of course, demands just as much attention, starting with the Preface.
The opening anecdoteâa true yet apocryphal gemâdates back to 2018, which is evidence of just how long Iâve been chewing on this idea. It involves a divorce court judge, a dose of linguistic ambiguity, and my ongoing scepticism about the utility of language in complex, interpretative domains.
At the time, my ex-wifeâs lawyer was petitioning the court to restrict me from spending any money outside our marriage. This included a demand for recompense for any funds already spent. I was asked, point-blank: Had I given another woman a gift?
Seeking clarity, I asked the judge to define gift. The response was less than amusedâa glare, a sneer, but no definition. Left to my own devices, I answered no, relying on my personal definition: something given with no expectation of return or favour. My reasoning, then as now, stemmed from a deep mistrust of altruism.
The court, however, didnât share my philosophical detours. The injunction came down: I was not to spend any money outside the marital arrangement. Straightforward? Hardly. At the time, I was also in a rock band and often brought meals for the group. Was buying Chipotle for the band now prohibited?
The judgeâs response dripped with disdain. Of course, that wasnât the intent, they said, but the language of the injunction was deliberately broadâambiguous enough to cover whatever they deemed inappropriate. The phrase donât spend money on romantic interests would have sufficed, but clarity seemed to be a liability. Instead, the court opted for what I call the Justice Stewart Doctrine of Legal Ambiguity: I know it when I see it.
Unsurprisingly, the marriage ended. My ex-wife and I, however, remain close; our separation in 2018 was final, but our friendship persists. Discussing my book recently, I mentioned this story, and she told me something new: her lawyer had confided that the judge disliked me, finding me smug.
This little revelation cemented something Iâd already suspected: power relations, in the Foucauldian sense, pervade even our most banal disputes. Itâs why Foucault makes a cameo in the book alongside Nietzsche, Wittgenstein, Saussure, Derrida, Borges, and even Gödel.
This anecdote is just one straw on the poor camelâs back of my linguistic grievances, a life filled with moments where languageâs insufficiency has revealed itself. And yet, I found few others voicing my position. Hence, a book.
I aim to self-publish in early 2025âget it off my chest and into the world. Maybe then I can stop wittering on about it. Or, more likely, I wonât.
I’ve written a lot on the insufficiency of language, and it’s not even an original idea. Language, our primary tool for sharing thoughts and ideas, harbours a fundamental flaw: it’s inherently insufficient for conveying precise meaning. While this observation isn’t novel, recent developments in artificial intelligence provide us with new ways to illuminate and examine this limitation. Through a progression from simple geometry to complex abstractions, we can explore how language both serves and fails us in different contexts.
The Simple Made Complex
Consider what appears to be a straightforward instruction: Draw a 1-millimetre square in the centre of an A4 sheet of paper using an HB pencil and a ruler. Despite the mathematical precision of these specifications, two people following these exact instructions would likely produce different results. The variables are numerous: ruler calibration, pencil sharpness, line thickness, paper texture, applied pressure, interpretation of “centre,” and even ambient conditions affecting the paper.
This example reveals a paradox: the more precisely we attempt to specify requirements, the more variables we introduce, creating additional points of potential divergence. Even in mathematics and formal logicâlanguages specifically designed to eliminate ambiguityâwe cannot escape this fundamental problem.
Precision vs Accuracy: A Useful Lens
The scientific distinction between precision and accuracy provides a valuable framework for understanding these limitations. In measurement, precision refers to the consistency of results (how close repeated measurements are to each other), while accuracy describes how close these measurements are to the true value.
Returning to our square example:
Precision: Two people might consistently reproduce their own squares with exact dimensions
Accuracy: Yet neither might capture the “true” square we intended to convey
As we move from geometric shapes to natural objects, this distinction becomes even more revealing. Consider a maple tree in autumn. We might precisely convey certain categorical aspects (“maple,” “autumn colours”), but accurately describing the exact arrangement of branches and leaves becomes increasingly difficult.
The Target of Meaning: Precision vs. Accuracy in Communication
To understand language’s limitations, we can borrow an illuminating concept from the world of measurement: the distinction between precision and accuracy. Imagine a target with a bullseye, where the bullseye represents perfect communication of meaning. Just as archers might hit different parts of a target, our attempts at communication can vary in both precision and accuracy.
Consider four scenarios:
Low Precision, Low Accuracy When describing our autumn maple tree, we might say “it’s a big tree with colourful leaves.” This description is neither precise (it could apply to many trees) nor accurate (it misses the specific characteristics that make our maple unique). The communication scatters widely and misses the mark entirely.
High Precision, Low Accuracy We might describe the tree as “a 47-foot tall maple with exactly 23,487 leaves displaying RGB color values of #FF4500.” This description is precisely specific but entirely misses the meaningful essence of the tree we’re trying to describe. Like arrows clustering tightly in the wrong spot, we’re consistently missing the point.
Low Precision, High Accuracy “It’s sort of spreading out, you know, with those typical maple leaves turning reddish-orange, kind of graceful looking.” While imprecise, this description might actually capture something true about the tree’s essence. The arrows scatter, but their centre mass hits the target.
High Precision, High Accuracy This ideal state is rarely achievable in complex communication. Even in our simple geometric example of drawing a 1mm square, achieving both precise specifications and accurate execution proves challenging. With natural objects and abstract concepts, this challenge compounds exponentially.
The Communication Paradox
This framework reveals a crucial paradox in language: often, our attempts to increase precision (by adding more specific details) can actually decrease accuracy (by moving us further from the essential meaning we’re trying to convey). Consider legal documents: their high precision often comes at the cost of accurately conveying meaning to most readers.
Implications for AI Communication
This precision-accuracy framework helps explain why AI systems like our Midjourney experiment show asymptotic behaviour. The system might achieve high precision (consistently generating similar images based on descriptions) while struggling with accuracy (matching the original intended image), or vice versa. The gap between human intention and machine interpretation often manifests as a trade-off between these two qualities.
Our challenge, both in human-to-human and human-to-AI communication, isn’t to achieve perfect precision and accuracyâa likely impossible goalâbut to find the optimal balance for each context. Sometimes, like in poetry, low precision might better serve accurate meaning. In other contexts, like technical specifications, high precision becomes crucial despite potential sacrifices in broader accuracy.
The Power and Limits of Distinction
This leads us to a crucial insight from Ferdinand de Saussure’s semiotics about the relationship between signifier (the word) and signified (the concept or object). Language proves remarkably effective when its primary task is distinction among a limited set. In a garden containing three treesâa pine, a maple, and a willowâasking someone to “point to the pine” will likely succeed. The shared understanding of these categorical distinctions allows for reliable communication.
However, this effectiveness dramatically diminishes when we move from distinction to description. In a forest of a thousand pines, describing one specific tree becomes nearly impossible. Each additional descriptive detail (“the tall one with a bent branch pointing east”) paradoxically makes precise identification both more specific and less likely to succeed.
An AI Experiment in Description
To explore this phenomenon systematically, I conducted an experiment using Midjourney 6.1, a state-of-the-art image generation AI. The methodology was simple:
Generate an initial image
Describe the generated image in words
Use that description to generate a new image
Repeat the process multiple times
Attempt to refine the description to close the gap
Continue iterations
The results support an asymptotic hypothesis: while subsequent iterations might approach the original image, they never fully converge. This isn’t merely a limitation of the AI system but rather a demonstration of language’s fundamental insufficiency.
A cute woman and her dog stand next to a tree
One can already analyse this for improvements, but let’s parse it together.
a cute woman
With this, we know we are referencing a woman, a female of the human species. There are billions of women in the world. What does she look like? What colour, height, ethnicity, and phenotypical attributes does she embody?
We also know she’s cute â whatever that means to the sender and receiver of these instructions.
I used an indefinite article, a, so there is one cute woman. Is she alone, or is she one from a group?
It should be obvious that we could provide more adjectives (and perhaps adjectives) to better convey our subject. We’ll get there, but let’s move on.
and
We’ve got a conjunction here. Let’s see what it connects to.
her dog
She’s with a dog. In fact, it’s her dog. This possession may not be conveyable or differentiable from some arbitrary dog, but what type of dog is it? Is it large or small? What colour coat? Is it groomed? Is it on a leash? Let’s continue.
stand
It seems that the verb stand refers to the woman, but is the dog also standing, or is she holding it? More words could qualify this statement better.
next to a tree
A tree is referenced. Similar questions arise regarding this tree. At a minimum, there is one tree or some variety. She and her dog are next to it. Is she on the right or left of it?
We think we can refine our statements with precision and accuracy, but can we? Might we just settle for “close enough”?
Let’s see how AI interpreted this statement.
Image: Eight Midjourney renders from the prompt: A cute woman and her dog stand next to a tree. I’ll choose one of these as my source image.
Let’s deconstruct the eight renders above. Compositionally, we can see that each image contains a woman, a dog, and a tree. Do any of these match what you had in mind? First, let’s see how Midjourney describes the first image.
In a bout of hypocrisy, Midjourney refused to /DESCRIBE the image it just generated.
Last Midjourney description for now.
Let’s cycle through them in turn.
A woman is standing to the left of an old-growth tree â twice identified as an oak tree. She’s wearing faded blue jeans and a loose light-coloured T-shirt. She’s got medium-length (maybe) red-brown hair in a small ponytail. A dog â her black and white dog identified as a pitbull, an American Foxhound, and an American Bulldog â is also standing on his hind legs. I won’t even discuss the implied intent projected on the animal â happy, playful, wants attention⊠In two of the descriptions, she’s said to be training it. They appear to be in a somewhat residential area given the automobiles in the background. We see descriptions of season, time of day, lighting, angle, quality,
A woman is standing to the right of an old-growth tree. She’s wearing short summer attire. Her dog is perched on the tree.
An older woman and her dog closer up.
A read view of both a woman and her dog near an oak tree.
As it turned out, I wasn’t thrilled with any of these images, so I rendered a different one. Its description follows.
The consensus is that ‘a beautiful girl in a white dress and black boots stands next to a tree’ with a Jack Russell Terrier dog. I see birch trees and snow. It’s overcast. Let’s spend some time trying to reproduce it. To start, I’m consolidating the above descriptions. I notice some elements are missing, but we’ll add them as we try to triangulate to the original image.
A beautiful girl in a white dress and black boots stands next to a tree in a winter forest with birch trees. A Jack Russell Terrier dog is nearby, and the weather is cloudy. The photo has a cinematic style. --ar 128:71
This is pretty far off the mark. We need to account for the overall setting and composition, relative positioning, clothing, hair, camera, perspective â even lighting and film emulsion.
Let’s see how we can refine it with some adjectives. Before this, I asked Anthropic’s Claude 3.5 to describe the image. Perhaps we’ll get more details.
An atmospheric winter photograph was taken in what appears to be a birch and pine forest. The ground is partially covered with snow, creating a patchy pattern of white snow and brown leaves or soil. In the image, there's a person wearing winter attire consisting of a white knit turtleneck sweater, a white skirt, dark knee-high socks, and grey lace-up boots. They're standing against a large tree trunk with their arms crossed. Next to them is a Jack Russell Terrier mix dog with distinctive brown and white colouring. The dog appears to be well-behaved, sitting attentively beside the tree. The composition is quite striking, with the massive dark tree trunk serving as a central focal point against the misty, winter forest background. The white clothing of the person creates a visual echo with the white bark of birch trees visible in the background, as well as with the patches of snow on the ground. The overall mood of the photo is somewhat moody and contemplative, enhanced by what appears to be overcast lighting and the misty quality of the forest in the background. The colour palette is largely monochromatic, dominated by whites, greys, and browns, which adds to the winter atmosphere of the scene.
We don’t seem to be moving in a good direction. Let’s modify the initial prompt.
A beautiful girl in a white dress and tall laced black boots stands facing the camera to the right of large oak tree centred in the foreground of a winter forest with birch trees in the background. To the left of the tree is a Jack Russell Terrier dog looking at the camera, and the weather is cloudy. The photo has a cinematic style. --ar 128:71
I’ll allow the results to speak for themselves. Let’s see if we can’t get her out of the wedding gown and into a white jumper and skirt. I’ll bold the amends.
A beautiful girl in a white jumper and skirt wearing black leggings and tall laced black boots stands facing the camera to the right of large oak tree centred in the foreground of a winter forest with birch trees in the background. To the left of the tree is a Jack Russell Terrier dog looking at the camera, and the weather is cloudy. The photo has a cinematic style. --ar 128:71
s
A beautiful young woman with long brown hair pulled to the side of her face in a white jumper and white skirt wearing black leggings under tall laced black boots stands facing the camera to the right of large oak tree centred in the foreground of a winter forest with birch trees in the background. Patchy snow is on the ground. To the left of the tree is a Jack Russell Terrier dog looking at the camera, and the weather is overcast. The photo has a cinematic style. --ar 128:71
What gives?
I think my point has been reinforced. I’m getting nowhere fast. Let’s give it one more go and see where we end up. I’ve not got a good feeling about this.
A single large oak tree centred in the foreground of a winter forest with birch trees in the background. Patches of snow is on the ground. To the right of the oak tree stands a beautiful young woman with long brown hair pulled to the side of her face in a white jumper and white skirt wearing black boots over tall laced black boots. She stands facing the camera. To the left of the tree is a Jack Russell Terrier dog looking at the camera, and the weather is overcast. The photo has a cinematic style. --ar 128:71
With this last one, I re-uploaded the original render along with this text prompt. Notice that the girl now looks the same and the scene (mostly) appears to be in the same location, but there are still challenges.
After several more divergent attempts, I decided to focus on one element â the girl.
As I regard the image, I’m thinking of a police sketch artist. They get sort of close, don’t they? They’re experts. I’m not confident that I even have the vocabulary to convey accurately what I see. How do I describe her jumper? Is that a turtleneck or a high collar? It appears to be knit. Is is wool or some blend? does that matter for an image? Does this pleated skirt have a particular name or shade of white? It looks as though she’s wearing black leggings â perhaps polyester. And those boots â how to describe them. I’m rerunning just the image above through a describe function to see if I can get any closer.
These descriptions are particularly interesting and telling. First, I’ll point out that AI attempts to identify the subject. I couldn’t find Noa Levin by a Google search, so I’m not sure how prominent she might be if she even exists at all in this capacity. More interesting still, the AI has placed her in a scenario where the pose was taken after a match. Evidently, this image reflects the style of photographer Guy Bourdin. Perhaps the jumper mystery is solved. It identified a turtleneck. I’ll ignore the tree and see if I can capture her with an amalgamation of these descriptions. Let’s see where this goes.
A photo-realistic portrait of Israeli female soccer player Noa Levin wearing a white turtleneck sweater, arms crossed, black boots, and a short skirt, with long brown hair, standing near a tree in a winter park. The image captured a full-length shot taken in a studio setting, using a Canon EOS R5 camera with a Canon L-series 80mm f/2 lens. The image has been professionally color-graded, with soft shadows, low contrast, and a clean, sharp focus. --ar 9:16
Close-ish. Let’s zoom in to get better descriptions of various elements starting with her face and hair.
Now, she’s a sad and angry Russian woman with (very) pale skin; large, sad, grey eyes; long, straight brown hair. Filmed in the style of either David LaChapelle or Alini Aenami (apparently misspelt from Alena Aenami). One thinks it was a SnapChat post. I was focusing on her face and hair, but it notices her wearing a white (oversized yet form-fitting) jumper sweater and crossed arms .
I’ll drop the angry bit â and then the sad.
Stick a fork in it. I’m done. Perhaps it’s not that language is insufficient; it that my language skills are insufficient. If you can get closer to the original image, please forward the image, the prompt, and the seed, so I can post it.
The Complexity Gradient
A clear pattern emerges when we examine how language performs across different levels of complexity:
Categorical Distinction (High Success)
Identifying shapes among limited options
Distinguishing between tree species
Basic color categorization
Simple Description (Moderate Success)
Basic geometric specifications
General object characteristics
Broad emotional states
Complex Description (Low Success)
Specific natural objects
Precise emotional experiences
Unique instances within categories
Abstract Concepts (Lowest Success)
Philosophical ideas
Personal experiences
Qualia
As we move up this complexity gradient, the gap between intended meaning and received understanding widens exponentially.
The Tolerance Problem
Understanding these limitations leads us to a practical question: what level of communicative tolerance is acceptable for different contexts? Just as engineering embraces acceptable tolerances rather than seeking perfect measurements, perhaps effective communication requires:
Acknowledging the gap between intended and received meaning
Establishing context-appropriate tolerance levels
Developing better frameworks for managing these tolerances
Recognizing when precision matters more than accuracy (or vice versa)
Implications for Human-AI Communication
These insights have particular relevance as we develop more sophisticated AI systems. The limitations we’ve explored suggest that:
Some communication problems might be fundamental rather than technical
AI systems may face similar boundaries as human communication
The gap between intended and received meaning might be unbridgeable
Future development should focus on managing rather than eliminating these limitations
Conclusion
Perhaps this is a simple exercise in mental masturbation. Language’s insufficiency isn’t a flaw to be fixed but a fundamental characteristic to be understood and accommodated. By definition, it can’t be fixed. The gap between intended and received meaning may be unbridgeable, but acknowledging this limitation is the first step toward more effective communication. As we continue to develop AI systems and push the boundaries of human-machine interaction, this understanding becomes increasingly critical.
Rather than seeking perfect precision in language, we might instead focus on:
Developing new forms of multimodal communication
Creating better frameworks for establishing shared context
Accepting and accounting for interpretative variance
Building systems that can operate effectively within these constraints
Understanding language’s limitations doesn’t diminish its value; rather, it helps us use it more effectively by working within its natural constraints.
This is my take on the fifth chapter of The Matter with Things. I suggest reviewing the previous chapters before you delve into this one, but I won’t stop you from jumping queue.
Podcast: Audio rendition of this page content
Intro
Chapter five of The Matter with Things is titled Apprehension, following the previous chapters, Attention, Perception, and Judgment. From the start, letâs clarify that apprehension is not meant in the manner of being nervous or apprehensive. Itâs meant to pair with comprehension. More on this presently.
Whilst the previous chapters have been heavily focused on the importance of the right hemisphere, this chapter is focused on the left, which may be given the chance to redeem itself. Not surprisingly perhaps, given the relative function of the right hemisphere versus the left, this chapter is much shorter than prior chapters.
Content
This chapter opens by asking what happens to a person who experiences left hemisphere damage. But letâs return to the chapter title. Apprehension is retaken etymologically and means to hold onto or to grasp. This is the function of the left hemisphere. The right hemisphere is about comprehension. The root âprehensionâ is Latin for hold; the added ap prefix suggests holding on, whilst the com prefix suggests holding together.
Whilst conceptualising and abstract language is a right hemisphere function, spoken words are a left-brain function. It turns out that so is pointing and other gesticulation, reminding me of some ethnic stereotypes of people who speak with their hands. We need to keep in mind that the right hemisphere controls the left part of the body whilst the left hemisphere controls the right. What this means is that the right hand, being guided by the left hemisphere is marching to a different drummer.
Also, keep in mind from the previous chapters that the right hemisphere is holistic whilst the left is atomistic. Where right hemisphere damage is evident, a person has difficulty viewing the parts of a whole, whilst if the damage is on the left, a person has difficulty constructing a whole from its constituent parts. Namely, it may recognise that a body is constructed from an inventory of piecesâhead and shoulders, knees, and toesâ, but it canât seem to grasp the cohesive orchestrated picture.
Apart from body continuity, when the left hemisphere is damaged, it might know all of the steps of a given processâMcGilchrist shares the example of a person trying to light a smoking pipeâ, but there may be difficulty in some of the instrumentation along the way. He cites an example by Czech neurologist, Arnold Pick, which I share here intact:
The patient is given a pipe and brings it correctly to his mouth, then expertly reaches for the tobacco pouch and takes a match from the box but when asked to light it, sticks the head of the match into the mouthpiece and puts the other end in his mouth as if to smoke it. Then he takes it out of his mouth, draws it out of the mouthpiece and sticks the other end of the match in the mouthpiece of the pipe, pulls it out again, holds it for a while in his hand apparently thinking, and then puts it away.
a person when encountering a pencil would feel compelled to grab it and start writing nothing in particular
To underscore the apprehension, where there is damage evident in the right hemisphere, the right hand (under control of the left hemisphere) may just grasp at things for no reason, perhaps reaching arbitrarily out to doorknobs. In one case, a person when encountering a pencil would feel compelled to grab it and start writing nothing in particular. In each case, the right hemisphere was not available to contextualise the experience. This right hemisphere is opening and exploratory whilst the left is closing and instrumental. It seems one might tend to meander without the left to provide a certain will and direction.
McGilchrist makes some correlations between humans and other great apes, but Iâll just mention this in passing.
I am going to pause to editorialise on McGilchristâs next claim. He argues that Saussure’s claim that language signs are arbitrary is false and gives some examplesâsun, bread, and spaghettiâbut I am not ready to accept this stance. For now, I am remaining in the camp with Saussure and Wittgenstein that language is both arbitrary and self-referential. Getting down off my soapbox.
Recall again that whilst the right hemisphere takes the world as presented, the left hemisphere can only re-present. This is why language symbols are handled by the left hemisphere. Coming back to Saussure, the right-brain experiences a âcatâ whilst the left-brain names that object a âcatâ and classifies it as a mammal, feline, quadruped, and whatever else.
The right hemisphere is about metaphor, prosody, and pragmatics whilst the left hemisphere, though not exclusively, is about syntax and semantics.
The right hemisphere is about metaphor, prosody, and pragmatics whilst the left hemisphere, though not exclusively, is about syntax and semantics. The left hemisphere is about symbols. As such, lipreading and interpreting sign language are both left-brain activities.
An interesting conveyance is a case study of a person with left hemisphere damage reading a book who recites the elephant in place of the written word India, so making an association by not recognising the word itself. And there may be a naming problem, so if there was a problem related to an ankle, they would point to an ankle but substitute the name of the part.
Finally, to reiterate the holistic versus atomistic divide, some people with left hemisphere damage can articulate the parts of the body or a bicycle, but when queried canât relate that the mouth is beneath the nose or some such.
Perspective
To summarise, McGilchrist leaves with a comment, âThe fabric of reality typically goes for the most part unaltered when the left hemisphere is suppressed.â
As Iâve been editorialising a bit throughout, I donât have much to add at this point. Aside from my Saussure nit, I am still very interested in the concept that the right hemisphere constructs reality. I feel that I interpret this construction differently to Iain.
I believe that we agree that there is a world out there, and we interpret this world by interacting with it. Where I feel we differ is that he feels there is a world of objects that we interact with and perceive whilst I believe that we construct this world of objects by means of constructing the underlying material, from particles to fields. I think heâll discuss this more in later chapters and I could be off base. Time will tell.
Having put Apprehension to bed, next up is a chapter on Emotional Support and Intelligence. I hope youâll join me.
What are your thoughts? What did you think of this chapter? Were there any surprises? Anything of particular interest?
That language is arbitrary is tautological, an analytic claim. It’s true by definition. Structuralists, i.e. Saussure, had known this even before the postmoderns, e.g. Derrida, came into the picture.
Trigger Warning If sexist perspectives offend your sensibilities, continue at your own risk. This is not meant to offend, rather just to illustrate, but you’ve been forewarned.
Where it might be most apparent is in aesthetics. So, when describing the appearance of a woman in a positive lightâI’m a guy, so indulge me, pleaseâ, one might describe her by one or more of these descriptors:
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Margaret Wolfe Hungerford
Adorable
Beautiful
Cute (or Kawaii, if you’re into the Anime culture)
Gorgeous
Handsome
Hot
Lovely
Pretty
Sexy
A 10 (or something along an otherwise arbitrary if not capricious scale)
Each of these is a term to indicate some aesthetic quality. Each capturing a connotative notion, and of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Givenchy – Ugly Beauty
Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them.
David Hume
I am not going to attempt to illustrate the nuances between these terms. As with any preference-oriented terms, the relationship between and within a given term. What I think is beautiful may not be to you.
What I think is beautiful today, I may not feel is beautiful tomorrow. Speaking in terms of music, there are plenty of songs I thought were ‘good’ when I was growing up, but I don’t like them anymore. Take a look at fashion in the past and how silly it might look now. If you are older, take a look at some pictures of how you dressed in your teens or twenties. You may have felt like quite the chick magnet in the day, and now you cringe and no longer wonder why you spent as many nights alone as you might have.
As a test, gather 100 images of different, say, womenâI’m staying with the trendâand rank them from 1 to 100; rate them cute, sexy, whatever. Record your choices. Do this each day for a month and see how steady your choices are. It will be extremely unlikely that there will be no variation no matter how carefully you try to define your classification to remain consistentâand this is just communicating with yourself. Now imagine if you have to consistently convey this to other people.
If everything is just ârhetoricâ or âpowerâ or âlanguage,â there is no real way to judge anything.Â
Somehow, I happened across a blog post, Postmodernisms: What does *that* mean? Of course, this is right up my street, I skimmed a couple other posts on the site and followed some links to establish some contextual frame.
My by-now standard (read: autonomic) reaction to this line of questioning is that this is a correct assessment of the conditional statement.
If everything is just X, Y, or Z, there is no real way to judge anything.
Before evaluating the entirety of the content, let’s look at the lexical choices, in particular:
everything: Realising that this is hyperbole. I am going to assume that the author did not mean that everything is X, Y, or Z. I believe he means everything within some imagined yet undefined domain. I’ll guess that this domain relates to some moral or social sphere. Anything employs the same hyperbole, so I’ll ignore it.
just:Â This rhetorically modifies X, Y, and Z, in order to diminish them for the reader, to make them appear petty.
real: I believe the term he was looking for is objective or perhaps ontological. Otherwise, we’ll need to discern what he considers to be real versus not real.
Also, notice the use of or as a conjunction. This seems odd, as the listed items do not have equal weight or effect. Rhetoric does not exist without language, and power really feels out of place, Michel Foucault’s law of the instrument complicity notwithstanding. To him, power was his litmus.
Constructionism
Firstly, all social perception is the result of the construct of human language. Of course, there is the physical world that exists independently of humans and perceptionâperhaps this is the real world where real judgments occur. Let’s label this real world the terrain. The earth and the larger universe would exist absent of humans. In fact, it had for aeons and will persist for many aeons beyond the last semblance of humanity. Humans are also real, if ephemeral, on a grander scale.
If this independent, objective, real world is the terrain, language is the map. We use language to communicate and make sense of the terrain, but it is only a representation based on our imperfect sense faculties.
Image: Symbolic language mapping of terrain
So when one makes a claim that everything [sic] is, say, language, they are making a claim similar to that of Saussure. Saussure was a structuralist. In fact, post-structuralism (or its expanded form labelled post-modernism) was a reaction against structuralists. Within the context of this post, Saussure believed that if one could fully qualify the structure of language, one could achieve a one-to-one fidelity relationship of the map to the terrain.
Post-structuralists pointed out all of the reasons why this was a fool’s errand. Like a geographical map, it is only a representation of the underlying terrain. Language serves the purpose of communication including expression and phatic aspects. One form of communication is rhetoric, which is a form employed for the purpose of persuasion. One possibility of this persuasion is to gain and retain powerâor to at least win the upper hand in your argument. I suppose this is where the original statement starts to coalesce: rhetoric, power, and language.
All models are wrong, but some are useful.My point, then, is that our language map is always disconnected from the terrain. Moreover, it can be a pretty low fidelity map indeed. So when one says that everything is language, they are making a claim that we can not acquire this real knowledge. We can make sensory observations and construct narratives about it.
If you’ve ever taken a basic communications class, you’ve probably experienced the telephone game. Perception works in a similar manner. There are many things of which we have little or no experience save for conveyance through language. But as with the telephone game, fidelity can be lost. This is less likely to be a problem when interfacing with the so-called real world of rock and trees and of lions and tigers and bears.
Image: Symbolic language mapping of nebulous concept
It is more likely to become a problem when dealing with non-ontic concepts, these ‘things’ that would not exist without humans or, more critically, without language. These artificial (in contrast to real) concepts are things like goodness, justice, democracy, liberty, sovereignty, nations, and on and on, ad nauseum. Humans have constructed narratives about all of these, but if the last human were to die tomorrow, these concepts would die, too. Whether some new lifeform would eventually evolve to develop language and further develop these concepts is debatable.
Judging
All of this aside, let’s look at the perceived intent of this statement, which is the same sentiment behind Nietzsche’s ‘God is dead’ quip.
As has been discussed, the Enlightenment replaced God with Nature and Nietzsche realised that if this worldview were universally adopted, the tyrannic role that God and gods had played could not be leveraged to maintain control or power, much in the same way that the divine rights or kings had withered and died. God played a vital role in this narrative. Nature, particularly human nature, was a weak substitute. This said, moral and natural realists, quickly (and relatively successfully) filled the void with cognitive filler, a perfect pairing for budding Enlightenment thinkers.
Given that even if there were some objective morality (terrain), there is no reason to believe that a human could gain access to it. Previously, priests and pharaohs claimed to possess this ability, but this vector was no longer extant or accessible. Even if a person did have this power through some miracle of some sort or another (or another or another), what reason (other than convincing rhetoric) would one have to believe him (or herâbut let’s be honest; it’s pretty much all hims).
Without access to this objective morality, we are left with creating some subjective morality. I fully admit that trying to gain consensus and compliance to a known-to-be constructed moral code would be akin to herding cats. It is no doubt that society would operate more efficiently if all constituents follow the same code.
If wouldn’t matter if this society adopted, say, monogamy over polygamy, so long as everyone accepted this as the rules of engagement. Cultural subjectivism would provide a moral framework for this situation, We have many examples of social arrangements where this is the mode of operation.
Sports are an example. There are rules. Players agree on the rules, protocols, and procedures, and they operate within this socially constructed framework. There is no objective sportsball deity on high that conveyed the commandments, and yet it works.
Locke and Rousseau each wrote about social contracts. Granted, they believed in a supernatural Nature with a capital N, but they still felt that people could operate as a society based on some sort compact or accord.
This missing element would be power because those in power could not use some higher power to justify their actions especially in regard to retributive justice and so on.
Commentary
What I still don’t understand after all these years is how this logic works. It is eerily similar to Pascale’s Wager.
If notSOME CONDITION, then not DESIRED OUTCOME therefore FABRICATE SOME CONDITION
If not [belief in God], then not [eternity of bliss in Heaven; instead eternal suffering in Hell, so double down] therefore [convince yourself of or feign belief in God]
If not [objective means of judgment], then not [real judgment] therefore [delude yourself into the belief that an objective means of judgment exists]
OK, so this isn’t at all about Foucault’s rhetoric. My main riff this year is the assertion that there is no Truth, only rhetoricâor should I rather say Rhetoric. I created a Reddit post asking for references to other philosophers (or whomever) who had made a similar claim, to which I was offered Vico and Rorty. Unfortunately, there were only two responders, and their assistance was superficial.
What I did encounter by one of the responders was a criticism similar to that levelled at Foucault, hence the inspired title of this post. This critique at its essence is that having proposed no positive solutions to the issues I point to, I cannot defend my position. In fact, as with Habermas‘ fault with Foucault, evidently, I have disarmed myself.
I find this line of argumentation weak tea at best. To argue that one has no claim to declare something incorrect if they don’t have a correct replacement for it is absurd. For example, I don’t know what 13,297 Ă· 1,492 equals arithmetically; but I can assert with confidence that it does not equal 2. Moreover, to criticise, one doesn’t need the ‘ability to generate positive alternatives’.
“There is no truth but rhetoric.”
So when I say there is no Truth but rhetoric (for non-ontic concepts), I am making a Truth statement. As such, this assertionâby my own admissionâis only as strong as the rhetoric I can muster to its defence. Alas, my defences are weak, and so the argument fails. Were I to make a stronger argumentâa more convincing argumentâ, it might be accepted as Truth.
Evidently, my first mistake was to separate ontic and non-ontic, which is to say things existing apart from their given names and those whose existence is entirely fabricated. An ontic thing might be a stone, a tree, a planet, a star, or the sensation of pain. These things exist even without language, a label, or an observer. As Saussure and other structuralists have noted, in semiotics, there is the signified (or referent) and the signifierâthe object and the identifier. In the context of language, these are tautological.
There is no spoon.Non-ontic things are conceptual, freedom, truth, justice, rights, gods, and so on. I may opt to replace non-ontic with language-contextual or some such to sidestep the taxonomical quagmire. Or perhaps I’ll adopt the dichotomy of concrete versus abstract. These concepts do not exist outside of language. They are wholly constructed in a complex system created by humansâand humans whilst humans have done OK with complicated systems, they have an abysmal track record when it comes to complex systems. By analogue to the physics of solids, there is more space than atoms, and the atoms and their constituent particles are in constant motionâzero-degrees Kelvin, be damned. Our senses perceive something to be there, but as in that scene in The Matrix, ‘there is no spoon‘.
In my mind, leveraging Saussure’s ideas are useful to depict the differences in the concrete versus the abstract.
The famous painting depicted above illustrates explains the difference between a signifier and a referent. In this image, there is only the signifier. Magritte makes clear the distinction with the text, Ceci, n’est pas une pipe: This is not a pipe. It is merely a depiction of one. To be even more arcane, the image is a signifier to another signifier that in turn refers to the referent.
A sign is the device that encapsulates the concept. It may be visualâan icon (an illustration of photograph) or a written word or even Brailleâor it can be spoken or signed, as with American Sign Language. These are all signs.
Notice when one considers a sign that a concrete cat (or in French, chat), it is pretty clear to what one is referring. Above the line, we see the signified, the idea conveyed by the sign. This doesn’t mean that everyone sees the silhouette depicted above, but it is a catlike thing, a feline animal, a mammal, normally with four legs and a tail. Perhaps you are thinking of a particular cat. But to someone with a grasp of the language in which you are communicating, when you say cat, there is little room for ambiguity. In fact, if you are trying to teach someone a different language, say, French, you could show them the cat with the chat signifier, and they would grasp your meaning almost instantaneously.
All language is arbitrary and socially constructed, so there is no connection between the wordsâsay, the spelling or shape of a wordâand its referent. The words cat and chat do not look like cats.
There are concrete things that cannot be so readily translated into an icon; for example, the wind. However, one could fairly quickly be able to articulate or gesticulate, as the case might be, the notion of wind. The same cannot be said for the abstract concept of justice.
As I’ve mentioned before, justice, especially one of the restorative or retributive varieties, is a euphemism for vengeance. The distinction is supposed to be found in the intent, but intent cannot be known; it can only be inferred. And, speaking of Foucault, justice can only be delivered from a power position.
But the notion of justice relies heavily on social construct; it has geo-spacial dependencies. What is considered to be just in ancient times may not be considered just now. What is considered just in one country might not be considered to be just in another. And this is more than a difference in instantiation. It is due to the arbitrary if not capricious articulation of a nebulous concept.
Returning to Foucault, (Christian apologist) Nancy Pearcey declares his stance paradoxical: “[when someone] states that it is impossible to attain objectivity, is that an objective statement? The theory undercuts its own claims.”
First, Pearcey merely asks a question about objectivity, but it doesn’t matter. The answer is: this may as well be an objective statement, but it’s just another language game. Wittgenstein (and Russell and Heidegger and Rorty…) was on the right path when he pointed out that the ambiguity inherent in language provide cover for all sorts of mischief. I’m only pretty sure that Derrida might yield paydirt as well. Besides, let’s pretend for a moment that there exists some objective truth, there is no reason (language game; except in accepting the broadest definition, reason is a capability elusive to many if not most humans) to expect that this truth is either accessible or verifiable anyway. The best one can do is to pose a more convincing rhetorical argument.
Reason /ËrÄzÉn/ (noun) the power of the mind to think, understand, and form judgments by a process of logic
A similar critique has been advanced by (another Christian apologist) Diana Taylor, and by Nancy Fraser who argues that “Foucault’s critique encompasses traditional moral systems, he denies himself recourse to concepts such as ‘freedom’ and ‘justice’, and therefore lacks the ability to generate positive alternatives.”
So whilst I’ve just managed to stream-of-consciousness my contention, I am not in a position to resolve anything. For now, I’ll settle for documenting my position as I continue to search for other supporters and formulate a more cogent response, a more robust rhetorical presentment.
If anyone can direct me to resources relevant to my position, let me know in the comments. I’ll appreciate it. If you don’t agreeâwhich would be expected, as this is the accepted orthodoxyâfeel free to comment as well.Â
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