Husserl, Knight of Reason

Ich muss meinen Weg gehen so sicher, so fest entschlossen und so ernst wie Duerers Ritter, Tod und Teufel. (Edmund Husserl, "Persoenliche Aufzeichnungen" )  "I must go my way as surely, as seriously, and as resolutely as the knight in Duerer's Knight, Death, and Devil." (tr. MavPhil)  Note the castle on the hill, the hour glass in the devil's hand, the serpents entwined in his headpiece, and the human skull on the road. 

Time is running out, death awaits, and a mighty task wants completion.

Duerer_-_ritter2c_tod_und_teufel_28der_reuther294

The Philosophizing Hiker: The Derivative Intentionality of Trail Markers

IMG_0303 You are out hiking and the trail becomes faint and hard to follow. You peer into the distance and see what appear to be three stacked rocks. Looking a bit farther, you see another such stack. Now you are confident which way the trail goes. Your confidence increases as further cairns come into view. On what does this confidence rest?

Your confidence is based on your taking the rock piles as other than merely natural formations. You take them as providing information about the trail's direction, which is to say that you to take them as trail markers, as meaning something, as about something distinct from themselves, as exhibiting intentionality, to use a philosopher's term of art.

Of course, the rock piles might have come into existence via purely natural causes: a rainstorm might have dislodged some rocks with gravity plus other purely material factors accounting for their placement. Highly unlikely, but nomologically possible. But please note that if you believe that the cairns originated in that way, then you could not take them as embodying information about the direction of the trail. It would be irrational in excelsis to hold both that (i) these rock piles came about randomly; and that (ii) these rock piles inform us of the trail's direction.

So if you take the rock piles as trail markers, then you take them as other than merely natural formations caused to exist by natural causes. You take the stacking and the placement as expressive of the purposes of a trail-blazer or trail-maintainer, an intelligent being who had it in mind to convey information to himself and others concerning the direction of the trail. This shows that any intentionality embodied in the cairns is derivative rather than intrinsic. The rock piles in and of themselves do not inform us of the trail's direction. They provide us this information only if we take them as embodying the purposes of an intelligent being. Of course, my taking of rock piles as embodying the purposes of an intelligent being does not entail that they do in fact embody the purposes of an intelligent being. But in most cases my ascription of a purpose corresponds to a purpose: I ascribe a purpose and the rock piles do in fact embody a purpose.

Thus there are two streams of intrinsic intentionality converging on the same object, one emanating from me, the other from the trail-maintainer.  The latter's embodying of his purpose in the cairn construction is a case of intrinsic intentionality.  And when I take the rock piles as embodying the trail-maintainer's purpose thereby ascribing to the rock piles a purpose, that too is a case of intrinsic intentionality.

The ascribing of a purpose and the embodying of a purpose are usually 'in sync.' There are rock piles that have no meaning and rock piles that have meaning. But no rock pile has intrinsic meaning. And the same goes for any material item or configuration of material items no matter how complex. No such system has intrinsic meaning; any meaning it has is derived. The meaning is derived either from an intelligent being who ascribes meaning to the material system, or from an intelligent being whose purposes are embodied in the material system, or both.

Thus I am rejecting the view that meaning could inhere in material systems apart from relations to minds that are intrinsically intentional, minds who are original Sinn-ers, if you will, original mean-ers. We are all of us Sinn-ers, every man Jack of us, original Sinn-ers,  but our Sinn-ing is not mortal but vital.  Intentionality is our very lifeblood as spiritual beings.

I am rejecting the view that any sort of isomorphism, no matter how abstract, could make the rock piles mean or represent the trail's direction. No doubt there is an isomorphism: the trail goes where the cairns go. No one cairn resembles the trail to any appreciable extent; but the cairns taken collectively do resemble the trail. Unfortunately, the trail also resembles the cairns. But the trail does not represent the cairns.

Representation is most of the time asymmetrical; but resemblance is always symmetrical. I conclude that resemblance cannot constitute representation. Note also that the cairns might resemble things other than the trail. Thus the cairns taken collectively might resemble the path of a subterranean gopher tunnel directly below the trail and following it exactly. But obviously, the cairns do not mark this gopher tunnel. Note also that isomorphism is not sensitive to the difference between rocks whose stacking is artificial, i.e., an artifact of a purposive agent, and rocks whose stacking came about via random purely natural processes. But it is only if the stacking is artificial that the stacks would mean anything. And if the stacking is artificial/artifactual, then there is a purposive agent possessing intrinsic intentionality.

Mind is king.  Naturalists need to wise up.

Auto-Antonyms

An auto-antonym is a word that has two meanings, one the opposite of the other.  'Fearful' is an example.  According to Michael Gilleland, who inspired this copy-cat post,

The Oxford English Dictionary defines fearful as both "causing fear; inspiring terror, reverence, or awe; dreadful, terrible, awful" and "frightened, timorous, timid, apprehensive."

There is much more on this topic at Dr. Gilleland's site. 

There must be some philosophical terms that exhibit the auto-antonymic property.  How about 'objective reality'?  Suppose someone were to start talking about the objective reality of the God-idea. You would naturally take him to be raising the question whether there exists anything corresponding to this idea.  But if a Descartes scholar were to speak of the objective reality (realitas objectiva) of the God-idea he would mean something nearly the opposite:  he would be speaking of the representative content of the idea itself,  a content that is what it is whether or not anything corresponds to the idea.

Thin (Analytic) and Thick (Continental) Conceptions of Being and the Question of Modes of Being

1. Peter van Inwagen maintains, quite rightly, that "One of the most important divisions between 'continental' and 'analytic' philosophy has to do with the nature of being." (Ontology, Identity, and Modality, Cambridge UP 1981, p. 4) Analysts favor a 'thin' conception while  Continentals favor a 'thick' one. Although van Inwagen's claim is essentially correct, there are broadly analytic philosophers such as myself and Barry Miller who defend a 'thick' conception. In any case, let's set aside the (unprofitable) question of the difference between the two schools the better to focus on the substantive question of the nature of being or existence.

 2. I sometimes refer to the thin conception as the 'Fressellian' conception. 'Fressell' is a cute amalgam of the names 'Frege' and 'Russell.' We can add Quine to the mix and speak of the deflationary account of being (existence) of Frege, Russell, and Quine. This is without a doubt the dominant 20th century analytic approach to existence. (Neo-Meinongians such as Hector-Neri Castaneda and Panayot   Butchvarov suggested a theory of existence in terms of consubstantiation (HNC) and material identity (PB) but these ideas found little resonance.)

So what is the thin conception? "The thin conception of being is this: the concept of being is closely allied with the concept of number: to say that there are Xs is to say that the number of Xs is 1 or more — and to say nothing more profound, nothing more interesting, nothing more." (p. 4) Connoisseurs of this arcana will recognize it as pure Frege:

     . . . existence is analogous to number. Affirmation of existence is
     in fact nothing but denial of the number nought. (Gottlob Frege,
     Foundations of Arithmetic, 65e)

'Cats exist,' then, says that the number of cats is one or more. Equivalently, it says that the concept cat has one or more instances.  Existence, as Frege puts it, is "a property of concepts." It is the property of being instantiated. Since individuals, by definition, cannot be instantiated, it follows that existence cannot be predicated of individuals. This has repercussions for some versions of the ontological argument: "Because existence is a property of concepts, the ontological argument for the existence of God breaks down."  (Frege, 65e)

3. That, in a nutshell, is the 'thin' or deflationary conception of being or existence. Existence is instantiation.  Variations on this theme are Russell's asseveration that existence is a property of propositional functions, and Quine's claim that existence is what existential quantification expresses. Van Inwagen says the following in defense of the thin conception:

     . . . it is possible to distinguish between the being and the
     nature of a thing — any thing; anything — and that the thick
     conception of being is founded on the mistake of transferring what
     belongs properly to the nature of a chair — or of a human being or
     of a universal or of God — to the being of the chair. To endorse
     the thick conception of being is, in fact, to make . . . the very
     mistake of which Kant accused Descartes: the mistake of treating
     being as a 'real predicate.' (pp. 4-5)

What van Inwagen is saying is that, for any x, one can distinguish between the existence of x and the nature of x, but that there is nothing one can say about the existence or being of x beyond what Frege and Co. have said. In particular, one cannot say that individuals of one sort exist in a different way than individuals of a different sort. The thin conception, in other words, allows no room for a plurality of modes of being: God, a chair, a number, a human being, a rattle snake, and a rock all are in the same sense and in the same way (mode).  But it would be better to say that on the thin conception there are no modes of existence than to say that there is exactly one mode common to all.  One cannot make a tripartite distinction among nature, existence, and mode of existence, but only a bipartite distinction between nature and existence. 

If this is right, then Heidegger is wrong: he famously distinguishes among several modes of Being (Seinsweisen) in Being and Time, most prominently among them: Existenz, the Being of those beings that we are; Zuhandenheit, the Being of tools, and Vorhandenheit, the Being of things of nature. J-P Sartre's distinction of being in-itself and being for-itself also falls if there can be no modes of being.

Indeed, much of classical metaphysics from Plato to Bradley bites the dust without a doctrine of modes of being. We have recently observed, for example, how the Thomist theory of intentionality requires a distinction between two modes of being, esse intentionale and esse naturale.  Roughly, a form that exists in a tree, say, with esse naturale also exists in a mind that knows the tree with esse intentionale.

To take another example, how are we to make sense of Aristotle's distinction between primary   substances and their accidents if there are no modes of being? Substances exist in themselves while accidents exist in another, namely, in substances. These are distinct modes of being. Substances and accidents both exist, but they exist in different ways. To take yet another example, for Aquinas, essence and existence are diverse in creatures but not in God. This is a difference in mode of being. God  exists a se, while creatures exist ab alio. God exists from himself  while creatures exist from another, namely, God.  Many other examples could be given.

4. Van Inwagen  uses 'mistake' twice in the above quotation. Having made a hard-and-fast distiction between the existence of a thing and its nature, van Inwagen  proclaims it to be a mistake to think that there are ways of existing. Having decided that existence is devoid of content, he asserts that it is a mistake to import any content into it. Well sure!  — but that blatantly begs the question. 

One should be very skeptical when one philosopher accuses another of making a 'mistake' given how easily the tables can be turned.  For a defender of the thick conception could just as easily accuse   Fressellians of making a mistake, the mistake of confusing general existence and singular existence.  

Compare 'Philosophers exist' and 'Socrates exists.' The former makes a claim of general existence or instantiation: it is plausibly construed as expressing the instantiation of the concept philosopher, as saying that the number of philosophers is one or more. But if this is all there is to existence, if existence if just a concept's being instantiated, then existence cannot be predicated of individuals, and 'Socrates exists' becomes meaningless. This is a conclusion Frege and Russell both explicitly draw. But obviously 'Socrates exists' is not  meaningless. We can and do predicate existence of individuals. When I say 'I exist,' I predicate existence of myself. If Frege's view were correct, then not only would the ontological argument "break down," the Cartesian cogito would also "break down." So there has to be something wrong with the Fresselian analysis.

There are many complicated issues here which I discuss in A Paradigm Theory of Existence (Kluwer, 2002), but at the moment I am suggesting that there is something superficial and unphilosophical about taxing the thick conception with 'mistakes' — the mistakes of importing content into being and of thinking that being can be predicated of individuals — when the thin conception can just as easily be accused of resting on 'mistakes.' Dealing as we are with two radically opposed approaches to being, it is is very strange to think  that either could rest on simple 'mistakes.' "How stupid of me not to notice that existence cannot be predicated of individuals! What was I thinking?"

Note also that if a first-level concept is instantiated, then it is instantiated by an individual, and indeed by one that exists — assuming you do not want to go the route of Meinong. So we are brought right back to singular existence, the existence of individuals. How then can existence be identified with the instantiation of concepts?

And once you see that existence does belong to individuals, contra the Fressellians, the way is clear to ask how an individual is related to its existence and to distinguish between different ways of existing.

5. Now what exactly is that 'mistake' that van Inwagen accuses the modes-of-being theorists of making?   It is the mistake of transferring what properly belongs to the  nature of an F to the existence of an F.  (See quotation above.) Compare a felt pain (of the sort caused by a stubbing of a bare toe on a large rock) and a rock.  The esse of the pain is its percipi.  But the esse of the rock, pace the good bishop,  is not.  So I say: the mode of being of the pain is different from the mode of being of the rock.  Van Inwagen would have to say that I illicitly transferred what properly belongs to the nature of a particular pain to its existence.  But I fail to see how it is part of the nature or qualitative character of that pain that its esse be percipi.  A pleasure quale has a totally different nature and yet its mode of being is the same. 

If any mistakes are being made here, they are being made by van Inwagen.  There is first of all the mistake of confusing general existence (existence as instantiation) with singular existence.  You could call this the mistake of failing to grasp that the Frege-Russell-Quine theory of existence is untenable.  There is also the mistake of thinking that the two putative mistakes he mentions  in the passage quoted are the same mistake.  If it is a mistake to think that existence belongs to individuals, then surely that is a different mistake from the mistake of thinking that there are modes of existence.  For one could hold that existence belongs to individuals without holding that there are different modes of singular existence.

But talk of  'mistakes' in philosophy is best avoided except in a few really clear cases which are usually of a logical sort.

BonJour on Intentionality and Materialism

Questions about intentionality can be divided into two groups. In logically first place there are questions about what it is, how it is possible, and what ontological resources are required to render it intelligible. And then there are more specific questions about what implications intentionality has for the mind-body problem.  Does it, for example, rule out materialism?  In What is it Like to be  Human (Instead of a Bat)?  Laurence BonJour mounts an argument from intentionality against materialism. I will quote just the bare bones of his argument, leaving aside many of the supporting considerations:

      Suppose then that on a particular occasion I am thinking about a
     certain species of animal, say dogs  — not some specific dog, just
     dogs in general (but I mean domestic dogs, specifically, not dogs
     in the generic sense that includes wolves and coyotes). The Martian
     scientist is present and has his usual complete knowledge of my
     neurophysiological state. Can he tell on that basis alone what I am
     thinking about? Can he tell that I am thinking about dogs rather
     than about cats or radishes or typewriters or free will or nothing
     at all? It is surely far from obvious how he might do this. My
     suggestion is that he cannot, that no knowledge of the complexities
     of my neurophysiological state will enable him to pick out that
     specific content in the logically tight way required, and hence
     that physicalism is once again clearly shown to be false.

     [. . .]

     Suppose then, as seems undeniable, that when I am thinking about
     dogs, my state of mind has a definite internal or intrinsic albeit
     somewhat indeterminate content, perhaps roughly the idea of a
     medium-sized hairy animal of a distinctive shape, behaving in
     characteristic ways. Is there any plausible way in which, contrary
     to my earlier suggestion, the Martian scientist might come to know
     this content on the basis of his neurophysiological knowledge of
     me? As with the earlier instance of the argument, we may set aside
     issues that are here irrelevant (though they may well have an
     independent significance of their own) by supposing that the
     Martian scientist has an independent grasp of a conception of dogs
     that is essentially the same as mine, so that he is able to
     formulate to himself, as one possibility among many, that I am
     thinking about dogs, thus conceived. We may also suppose that he
     has isolated the particular neurophysiological state that either is
     or is correlated with my thought about dogs. Is there any way that
     he can get further than this?

     The problem is essentially the same as before. The Martian will
     know a lot of structural facts about the state in question,
     together with causal and structural facts about its relations to
     other such states. But it is clear that the various ingredients of
     my conception of dogs (such as the ideas of hairiness, of barking,
     and so on) will not be explicitly present in the neurophysiological
     account, and extremely implausible to think that they will be
     definable on the basis of neurophysiological concepts. Thus, it
     would seem, there is no way that the neurophysiological account can
     logically compel the conclusion that I am thinking about dogs to
     the exclusion of other alternatives.

     [. . .]

     Thus the idea that the Martian scientist would be able to determine
     the intrinsic or internal contents of my thought on the basis of
     the structural relations between my neurophysiological states is
     extremely implausible, and I can think of no other approach to this
     issue that does any better. The indicated conclusion, once again,
     is that the physical account leaves out a fundamental aspect of our
< span style="font-family: georgia,palatino;">     mental lives, and hence that physicalism is false.

I will now sum up BonJour's reasoning in my own way.

BonJour is thinking about dogs. He needn't be thinking about any particular dog; he might just be thinking about getting a dog, which of course does  not entail that there is some particular dog, Kramer say, that he is thinking about getting.   Indeed, one can think about getting a dog that is distinct from every dog presently in existence!  How?  By thinking about having a dog breeder do his thing.  If a woman tells her husband that she wants a baby, more likely than not, she is not telling him that she wants to kidnap or adopt some existing baby, but that she wants the two of them it engage in the sorts of conjugal activities that can be expected to cause a baby to exist.

BonJour's thinking has intentional content. It exhibits that aboutness or of-ness that recent posts have been hammering away at.  The question is whether the Martian scientist can determine what that   content is by monitoring BonJour's neural states during the period of time he is thinking about dogs. The content before BonJour's mind has various subcontents: hairy critter, mammal, barking animal, man's best  friend . . . . But none of this content will be discernible to the neuroscientist on the basis of complete knowledge of  the neural states, their relations to each other and to sensory input and behavioral output. Therefore, there is more to the mind than what can be known by even a completed neuroscience. Physicalism (materialism)  is false.

I of course agree. 

George Shearing Dead at 91

Kerouac aficionados will  recall the "Old God Shearing" passage in On the Road devoted to the late pianist George Shearing.  Here is a taste of his playing.  And another.

You will have noticed, astute reader that you are, that my opening sentence is ambiguous.  'The late pianist George Shearing' must be read de re for the sentence to be true, while my formulation suggests a de dicto reading.  Compare:

a. The late George Shearing is such that that there is a passage in OTR about him.

b. There is a passage in OTR about the late George Shearing.

(a) is plainly true and wholly unproblematic.  (b), however, is false in that there is no passage in OTR about George Shearing under the description 'late' or 'deceased.'  On the contrary, the passage in question depicts him as so exuberantly alive as to drive Dean Moriarty 'mad.'  But is (b) plainly false?

I suppose it depends on whether 'about' is ambiguous in (b).  Can a passage that depicts x as F be about x even if x is not F? Or must x be F if a passage that depicts x as F is correctly describable as about x? My tentative view is that there are both uses in ordinary English.  Consequently, (b) is not plainly false.

Is the definite description 'the man in the corner with champagne in his glass'  about a man in the corner even if he does not have champagne in his glass but sparkling water  instead?  If you say 'yes,' then you should agree that (b) is not plainly false, but ambiguous.