Some Putative Counterexamples to My Definition of ‘Superstitious Belief’

I hazarded the following definition:

Belief B is superstitious =df (i) B is or entails erroneous beliefs about the causal structure of the natural world; (ii) B makes reference to one or more supernatural agents; (iii) B involves a corruption or distortion of a genuine religious belief.

The conditions are supposed to be individually necessary and jointly sufficient.  Several people wrote in to question whether conditions (ii) and (iii) are necessary.  What about:  blowing on dice; avoiding walking under ladders; carrying a rabbit's foot, etc.

First off, these are not beliefs  but practices, and I had set myself the narrow task of defining 'superstitious belief.'   Second, it is not clear that  the people who engage in the aforementioned practices need have any underlying beliefs about the practices or their efficacy.  The gambler who blows on his dice before throwing them may simply be mimicking what he saw some other gambler do, a gambler he thought 'cool.'  Same goes for a liitle leaguer who crosses himself at the plate just because he saw some big boy do it.  Monkey see, money do.  The kid may have no idea what the gesture signifies.

But suppose our gambler really does believe that blowing on the dice will enhance their likelihood of coming up the way he wants.  Then (ii) and (iii) go unsatisfied.  But is the belief in question a counterexample to my definition?  Not unless it is a superstitious belief, which is what I deny!

"But doesn't the belief in question satisfy the dictionary definition?"  Yes, it does, but so what? I am not trying to give a lexical definition.  A lexical definition, or dictionary definition, aims to describe how a word or phrase is actually used at the present time within some linguistic community.  But if you think philosophical insight can be had by consulting dictionaries, then you commit what I call the Dictionary Fallacy.  People say the damndest things and use and misuse words in all sorts of ways riding roughshod over all sorts of distinctions.  When a misuse becomes widely accepted then it goes into the dictionary since dictionaries are descriptive not prescriptive.

But it occurred to me that there is a problem with my definition.  A belief can be superstitious even if it doesn't involve any erroneous beliefs about nature and her workings.  Consider again the plastic dashboard Jesus.  Suppose the motorist believes, not that the hunk of plastic has causal powers relevant to the prevention of automotive mishap, but that the divine person represented by the icon will be inclined to intervene in the natural world in prevention of mishap because he is being honored by the motorist.  Such a motorist could be a trained physicist who harbors no false beliefs about nature's workings.  (Divine intervention needn't involve any violation of natural laws.)  I want to say that that too is a case of superstition.  If it is, it is not captured by my definition. 

Saturday Night at the Oldies: Superstition

Stevie Ray Vaughan, Superstition
Howlin' Wolf, I Ain't Superstitious.  "Well, I ain't superstitious, but a black cat just crossed my trail."
Elvis Presley, Good Luck Charm
Leon Redbone, When You Wish Upon a Star
Blind Lemon Jefferson, Rabbit Foot Blues, 1926
Screamin' Jay Hawkins, I Put a Spell on You.  Don't miss this one!
Albert King, Born Under a Bad Sign
Eagles, Witchy Woman
Santana, Black Magic Woman
Lovin' Spoonful, Do You Believe in Magic?
Marty Robbins, Devil Woman

Mitch Ryder, Devil with the Blue Dress
Elvis Presley, Devil in Disguise

That makes 13! Time to pack it in.

Defining ‘Superstitious Belief’

Superstition is a form of pseudo-religion, a degenerate or distorted form of religion.  But what exactly is it and how does it differ from genuine religion?  Let's start by asking what sorts of item are called superstitious.  There are (at least) superstitious beliefs, practices, and people.  Perhaps we should say that a person is superstitious if he habitually harbors superstitious beliefs and engages in superstitious practices.  Since practices are underpinned by beliefs, perhaps we can make some progress by trying to define 'superstitious belief.'

Go back to my example of the plastic dashboard Jesus icon.  The hunk of plastic has both physical and representational properties.  But properties of neither sort induce in the hunk any causal powers of the sort that are relevant to the prevention of automotive mishaps.  Now if the motorist  believes to the contrary, then he is superstitious — this seems to be an exceedingly clear paradigm case of superstition — and part of what makes him superstitious is that he harbors erroneous beliefs about the causal workings of nature.  So it seems that part of the definiens of 'superstitious belief' is

1. an erroneous belief about the casual structure of nature.

If (1) is a necessary condition of a belief's being superstitious, then the mere belief that God exists or that unembodied/disembodied souls exist is not superstitious.  Obviously, the belief that there are entities transcendent of nature needn't involve any false beliefs about nature.  We have to avoid the mistake of identifiying superstitious beliefs with beliefs about the supernatural.  That would be on a par with the mistake of thinking that religion just is superstition.

But (1), though necessary, is not sufficient.  For not every  erroneous belief about nature's workings is a superstitious belief. When I was a young child I got it into my head that my left arm had to be stronger than my right arm because, being right-handed, I used my right arm more and my left arm less with the result that the power of the left arm was preserved while the power of the right arm was reduced.  My childish belief was 'logical' in way, but empirically false.  Flexing a muscle is not like flexing a piece of metal.  The former typically strenghtens, the latter typically weakens.  But there was nothing superstitious about my false belief.    A second example is the gambler's fallacy which, though sometimes classified as a superstition, is not one by my lights.  So it looks as if we need to add a second necessary condition along the lines of

2. That makes reference to a supernatural agent.

Thus in the case of the dashboard Jesus what makes the belief superstitious is not the attribution to a hunk of plastic as a mere hunk of plastic of causal powers it cannot possess; it is the attribution of such powers to a hunk of plastic that is also iconic or representational, the item represented being a supernatural agent.  If the icon were melted down into a non-representational blob, then the superstitious motorist would presumably no longer consider it causally efficacious in warding off danger.

But now it appears that our two necessary conditions are not jointly sufficient.   I am assuming that superstition is a form, but not the only form, of pseudo-religion.  (Idolatry and blasphemy may be other forms.).  As a form of pseudo-religion, superstition is a degenerate or corrupt or distorted form of genuine religion. Now suppose our motorist is a member of a Satanic cult and has on his dashboard an icon that represents some demon or maybe the head honcho of demons, old Mephistopheles himself.    And suppose our satanist believes that the presence of that icon (made of the molded excrement of a sacrificed cat) will protect him from the dangers of the road.  Then both (1) and (2) will be satisfied without the satanist's belief being superstitious.  So I add a third necessary condition:

3. and involves a corruption or distortion of a genuine religious belief.

Example.  A kid makes the sign of the cross as he steps up to the plate in a baseball game.  If the kid believes that the gesture will increase the likelihood of his connecting with the ball, then he has an erroneous belief about natural causation.  But that is not enough to make his belief superstitious.  Nor is it enough if we add the  reference to a supernatural agent.  We need to add the third condition.    The genuine religious belief being distorted here is the belief that one's spiritual salvation depends on right relation to God, a right relation that can be secured only via the mediation of Jesus Christ. This genuine religious belief may be false but it is not superstitious: it does not involve any erroneous beliefs about the causal structure of nature.  The distortion consists in the invocation of Jesus and his self-sacrifice for a paltry mundane self-serving and ego-enhancing purpose having nothing to do with salvation.

This seems to do the trick.   My claim is that my three conditions are individually necessary and jointly sufficient for a belief's being superstitious.  Counterexamples anyone?

The Wild Diversity of Human Types: Zelda Kaplan and Dolores Hart

Zelda lived and died for fashion, collapsing at age 95 in the front row of a fashion show.  Dolores, though starting off in the vain precincts of glitz and glamour, gave it up for God and the soul.  This life is vain whether or not God and the soul are illusions. Should we conclude that to live for fashion is to throw one's life away for the trinkets of phenomenality, the bagatelles of transience? That to die while worshipping idols at the altar of fashion is a frightful way to die?  These mere suggestions will elicit vociferous objection from some, for whom it is self-evident that to retreat to a nunnery is to throw one's life away for an escapist fantasy.  But that is but another indication of the wild diversity of human types.  The case for the vanity of human existence is well made in Ecclesiastes.  See A Philosopher's Notes on Ecclesiastes, Chapters 1-2.

Zelda kaplan

Dolores hart

Dolores hart nun

Wittgenstein and Dreaming: *On Certainty* #383

On Certainty #383: The argument "I may be dreaming" is senseless for this reason: if I am dreaming, this remark is being dreamed as well  and indeed it is also being dreamed that these words have any meaning.

What is senseless (sinnlos) here is not the dream argument, but what Wittgenstein says about it. It is a plain fact that people have dreams in which they know that they are dreaming, and in which they think to themselves, 'I am dreaming.' In those dreams they are not dreaming that they are dreaming, if dreaming that p entails that one does not know that p.

I once had an extremely vivid dream about my dead cat, Maya. There she was: as (apparently) real as can be. I saw her, I touched and petted her, I heard her. It was all astonishingly vivid and coherent. There was an ongoing perceiving in which visual, tactile, and auditory data were well-integrated. And yet I knew within the dream that she was dead, and I knew that I had buried her in April 2001 in the desert behind the house.

And so I began to philosophize within the dream: I know that Maya is dead and that I am dreaming, and so these perceptions, as vivid and coherent as they are, cannot be veridical. Coherence is no guarantee of veridicality. I did not dream that I was dreaming, I knew that I was dreaming; and I did not dream the reasoning in the second-to-last sentence, I validly executed that reasoning. And the meanings of the terms in the reasoning was in no way affected by their being grasped within a dream.

Wittgenstein seems to be assuming that, for any proposition p, if one becomes aware that p while dreaming, then one has dreamt that p in a sense that entails that one does not know that p. But this assumption is false, as Descartes appreciated. Becoming aware that 2 + 3 = 5 while dreaming is consistent with knowing its truth in the way that dreaming that one is sitting before a fire is not consistent with knowing its truth. So there is no reason to deny that one can become aware that one is dreaming while dreaming. To become aware that one is dreaming while dreaming is not to dream that one is dreaming in a sense that implies that one is not in reality dreaming. And to use words within a dream is not to dream the meanings of those words in a sense that implies that they do not in reality have those meanings.

It Passes All the Same

No matter how many times you remind yourself to seize the day, to enjoy the moment, to do what you are doing, to be here now, to live thoughtfully and deliberately, to appreciate what you have; no matter how assiduous the attempts to freeze the flow, fix the flux, stay the surge to dissolution, and contain the dissipation wrought by time's diaspora and the mind's incontinence — it passes all the same.

Superstition: More Examples

A reader comments:

You write that “Superstition in this first sense seems to involve a failure to understand the causal structure of the world or the laws of probability” and that it is a “necessary (but not sufficient) condition of a belief's being superstitious is that it entail one or more erroneous beliefs about the causal structure of nature.” I’m curious about what you think of the following case:

A young Christian claims to be harassed by demons. He experiences the harassment, he claims, only during the late hours of the night in his room. His pastor advises the kid to anoint with oil, in the shape of a cross, the door frame to his room (the idea being that such an anointing will “ward off” the demons). 

Do you think this is superstitious? After all, oil is in the relevant sense “material stuff” just as much as a plastic Jesus is. However, the oil is not intended to have a causal effect in nature, but in “the spiritual realm.” I think examples like this are common among religious people. It may not be hard to find one that intuitively counts as superstitious (as another example, consider how Catholic priests are often asked to bless houses or rooms before a Catholic takes up residence in them). What you think of these kinds of cases?

The more examples the better.  Yours is importantly different from the plastic Jesus example in which a power is imputed to a physical thing that it cannot have, the power to protect the vehicle and its occupants from a natural threat.  (Contrast this with the power a properly fastened seat belt has to prevent the driver from going through the windshield in the event of a crash.)  In your example there is imputed to a physical stuff, oil, the power to protect against a physical or spiritual threat emanating from a purely spiritual being.  Since this is a power that oil cannot have, whether applied in the shape of a cross or not, I would say that this type of practice and the underlying belief are superstitious as well.

It is worth noting, however, that a false belief can have a real effect.  Believing, albeit falsely, that he has done something efficacious to ward off demons, the kid may feel reassured and comforted.  The pastor's belief that the kid's daubing the door frame with oil will have a beneficial psychological effect on him is not superstitious.

I once knew a chess player who always wore the same ridiculous little hat, filthy and tattered, at tournaments.  This was his 'lucky hat.'  Donning it, he geared up for chessic combat.  This may or may not be a superstitious practice depending on the underlying belief.  If he believes that the mere donning of the hat directly influences the outcome of games, then the belief is superstitious, or at least bears one of the marks of a superstitious belief.  But there would be nothing superstitious about the belief that donning the hat puts him in a fighting frame of mind, which in turn does have a real effect on his play.

Or consider an airline pilot who suits up prior to a flight.  Donning his uniform, he steps into his role.  'Looking the part' he inspires confidence in himself and in his passengers.  This confidence has a slight but real effect on his performance in the cockpit.  So far, nothing superstitious.  Superstition would come into the picture if the pilot thought that the mere donning of the uniform enhances his skill set, that the insignia, say, have the power to confer upon him good judgment or motor control.

 This is a difficult topic.  Surprisingly little has been written on it by philosophers.  In the JSTOR database I found only four articles, three from the 1930s.  If we don't know what superstition is, then we won't know what genuine religion is either.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

"Remember, man, thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return." Memento, homo, quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris. This warning, from the Catholic liturgy for Ash Wednesday, is based on Genesis 3, 19: In sudore vultus tui vesceris pane, donec revertaris in terram de qua sumptus es: quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris.

How real can we and this world be if in a little while we all will be nothing but dust and ashes ?

Our plesance here is all vain glory,
This fals world is but transitory,
The flesche is brukle, the Feynd is slee;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

No stait in Erd here standis sicker;
As with the wynd wavis the wicker,
Wavis this wardlis vanitie;
Timor mortis conturbat me.

(William Dunbar c. 1460 — c. 1520, from "Lament for the Makers.")

Here lie I by the chancel door;
They put me here because I was poor.
The further in, the more you pay,
But here lie I as snug as they.

(Devon tombstone.)

Here lies Piron, a complete nullibiety,
Not even a Fellow of a Learned Society.

Alexis Piron, 1689-1773, "My Epitaph"

Why hoard your maidenhead? There'll not be found
A lad to love you, girl, under the ground.
Love's joys are for the quick; but when we're dead
It's dust and ashes, girl, will go to bed.

(Asclepiades, fl. 290 B.C., tr. R. A. Furness)

The world, perhaps, does not see that those who rightly engage in
philosophy study only death and dying. And, if this be true, it
would surely be strange for a man all through his life to desire
only death, and then, when death comes to him, to be vexed at it,
when it has been his study and his desire for so long.

Plato, Phaedo, St. 64, tr. F. J. Church

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread: What Sort of Petition?

One question that arises in connection with an attempt to distinguish superstition from genuine religion is the question whether petitionary prayer is superstitious.  The answer will depend not only on what we take superstition to be but also on the type of petitionary prayer.

In an earlier installment I suggested that there are three grades of prayer:

Grade I: The lowest grade is that of petitionary prayer for material benefits. One asks for mundane benefits whether for oneself, or, as in the case of intercessory prayer, for another. In its crassest forms it borders on idolatry and superstition. A skier who prays for snow, for example, makes of God a supplier of mundane benefits, as does the nimrod who prays to win the lottery.  Worse still is the one who prays for the death of a business rival.  Such prayer involves both  idolatry, the worshipping of a false god, and superstition.  A god reduced to the status of a cosmic sugardaddy is an idol.  It is the sort of god that atheists say does not exist.  I am pleased to agree with them.

Grade II: The next grade up is petitionary prayer for spiritual benefits. At this level one is not asking for one's daily physical bread, but for acceptance, equanimity, patience, courage, and the like  in the face of the fact that one lacks bread or has cancer. "Thy Will be done." One asks for forgiveness and for the ability to forgive  others. One prays for a lively sense of one's own manifold  shortcomings, for self-knowledge and freedom from self-deception. One prays, not to be cured of the cancer, but to bear it with courage. One prays for the ability to see one's tribulations under the aspect of eternity or with the sort of detachment with which one contemplates the sufferings of others.

Grade III: Higher still, I should think, is prayer that is wholly non-petitionary. At this level one asks neither for material nor for  spiritual benefits. One form of this wholly non-petitionary  prayer is sheer gratitude for  what one has. Prayer as thanskgiving. Beyond this there is prayer as  pure aspiration, as a straining of the soul upwards. A pure spiritual  seeking, ascending, soaring. One seeks to elevate oneself above one's  perceived infirmity and wretchedness. One seeks to rise above the paltriness, crudity, baseness of one's usual thoughts and emotions.   Not a petitioning, but a self-elevating and a leaving of oneself   behind. Prayer as aspiration may then lead on to forms of meditation proper and perhaps infused contemplation. At the stage of meditation the soul enters mental silence and rests there having abandoned all  petitioning and aspiring. A"Waiting for God" to borrow a Simone Weil title.One is no longer working but resting in mental silence, listening. Within this silence one perhaps receives mystical grace which comes from without the mind.

Grade I, I would argue, has nothing to do with religion properly understood. But if I were to make this argument, I would run smack into the "Our Father," which, in the fourth of its six petitions, appears precisely to endorse Grade I, petitionary prayer for material  benefits. The other five petitions are either clearly or arguably Grade II. The fourth petition, "Give us this day our daily bread," translates the Biblia Vulgata's Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie which occurs at Luke 11:3.

At Matthew 6:11, however, we find Panem nostrum supersubstantialem da nobis hodie, "Give us this day our supersubstantial bread." 'Supersubstantial' suggests a bread that is supernatural. To ask for   this bread is to ask for a 'food' that will keeps us spiritually alive. For Simone Weil, "Christ is our bread." We can have physical bread without eating it; we cannot have spiritual bread without  'eating' it: the having is the 'eating' and being nourished by it. This nourishing is the "union of Christ with the eternal part of the  soul." (Waiting for God, p. 146) The fourth petition of the Pater Noster, then, is the request for the union of Christ with the eternal part of the soul. It has nothing to do with a crass and infantile demand to be supplied with physical food via a supernatural means.

The Greek word translated as quotidianum in the Luke passage and as supersubstantialem in the Matthew passage is epiousios. I am not competent to discuss the philology of this Greek word, which may be a hapax legomenon. (Nor am I competent to assess the correctness of the two Wikipedia entries to which I have just linked; so Caveat lector!) But if any philologist or Biblical exegete were to tell me that epiousios cannot be understood in terms of 'supersubstantial,' (with the latter implying 'supernatural'), then I would say that that person is either wrong, or the text is corrupt, or the original sources do not record what Jesus actually said.

Philosophically, the fourth petition, if it is to fit with the others, and is not to represent a crass and infantile and quite absurd demand, must be interpreted spiritually, not physically. Otherwise, you play into the hands of the 'Dawkins Gang.' If it is physical bread you want, go to the store and buy some, or learn the art of the baker.

Would You Want Your Murderer Executed?

Excerpt:

Americans should be able to declare what they want the state to do on their behalf if they are murdered. Those who wish the state to keep their murderer alive for all of his natural years should wear, let us say, a green bracelet and/or place a green dot on their driver's license or license plate. And those who want their convicted murderer put to death can wear a red bracelet and/or have a red dot on their license.

An Example of a Religion Without Superstition

John Pepple has written an excellent post in which he sketches a religion free of superstitious elements, thereby showing that there is nothing in the nature of religion — assuming that religion has a nature — that requires that every religion be wholly or even in part superstitious.  Here is his sketch:

1. God exists.
2. Upon creating, God placed all sentient beings in heaven.
3. Some of us sinned and were sent to our universe for punishment.
4. There is no intervention by God in our universe, because that would interfere with the punishment.
5. After we die, we either regain heaven or are reincarnated.
6. We regain heaven not through worship of God but by good behavior, by treating other sentient beings right. In other words, we regain heaven by merit and not by grace.

As I suggested  in Religion and Superstition, the bare belief that there are supernatural beings is not superstitious.  Without essaying a logically impeccable definition of 'superstitious belief' (very difficult if not impossible), I would say that a necessary (but not sufficient) condition of a belief's being superstitious is that it entail one or more erroneous beliefs about the causal structure of nature.  I have seen Catholic baseball players  make the sign of the cross before stepping up to the plate.  That bit of (disgusting) behavior is evidence of a superstitious belief:  clearly the gesture in question has no tendency to raise the probability of connecting with the ball.  Or consider the plastic dashboard Jesus that I mentioned before.    The belief that the presence of this hunk of plastic will ward off automotive mishap is superstitious, and a person who occurrently or dispositionally has many beliefs like this is a superstitious person.

But what if the person believes, not that the piece of plastic will protect him, but that the purely spiritual person represented will protect him by intervening in nature?  That too is arguably superstitious, though not as egreuiously superstitious as the first belief.  One might argue like this:

a. The physical domain is causally closed.
b. The belief that Jesus will intervene in the workings of nature should one, say, have a blow-out is an erroneous belief about the physical domain.
Ergo
c. The belief in question is superstitious.

To make things hard for the religionist  suppose we just assume the causal closure of the physical domain:  every event in the physical universe that has a cause has a physical cause, and every effect of a physical cause is a physical event.  The idea is that no causal influence can enter or exit the physical domain.  That the physical domain is causally closed is neither obvious nor a principle of physics.  It is a philosophical thesis with all the rights, privileges, and debilities pertaining thereunto.

But even if causal closure is true, it doesn't rule out the existence of a wholly immaterial God who sustains the universe at every instant but never intervenes in its law-governed workings.  As far as Pepple and I can see there is nothing superstitious in the belief that such a God exists.  So there is nothing supersitious about Pepple's (1).

I read his (2) as the claim that God creates purely spiritual beings who exist in a purely spiritual domain.  Please note that sentience does not entail having physical sense organs.  For example literal visual seeing does not require the existence of physical eyes. In out-of-body experiences, subjects typically have visual experiences that are not routed through the standard-issue optical transducers in their heads.  And yet they literally (and arguably veridically) see physical things, e.g., the little bald spot on the top of a surgeon's head. 

Ad (3).  How do we get sent into this penal colony of a world?  We are born into it: the preexistent soul begins to inhabit an animal organism.  Soul in this sense is of course not an Aristotleian animating principle or a Thomistic anima forma corporis, but a Platonic soul.  But wouldn't the attaching of a pre-existent soul to an already living organism involve some violation of causal closure?  Not obviously.  But this is a deep question. (I now invoke the blogospheric privilege entailed by the 'Brevity is the soul of blog.')

Pepple's is a rather 'thin' religion but I think it illustrates nicely how religion and superstition can be decoupled.  For his is a belief system that counts as a religion but is clearly not superstitious.

What we need to make this really clear are definitions of 'religion' and 'superstition' ('pseudo-religion').  But definitions in this area are very difficult to come by.  And it may be that religion and superstition are both family-resemblance concepts that are insusceptible of rigorous definition in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions of application.

Morning Star and Evening Star

London Ed of Beyond Necessity does a good job patiently explaining the 'morning star' – 'evening star' example to one of his uncomprehending readers.  But I don't think Ed gets it exactly right.  I quibble with the following:

Summarising:
(1) The sentence “the morning star is the evening star” has informational content.
(2) The sentence “the morning star is the morning star” does not have informational content.
(3) Therefore, the term “the morning star” does not have the same informational content as “the evening star”.

One quibble is this.  Granted, the two sentences differ in cognitive value, Erkenntniswert.  (See "On Sense and Reference" first paragraph.) The one sentence expresses a truth of logic, and thus a truth knowable a priori.  The other sentence expresses a factual truth of astronomy, one knowable only a posteriori.  But note  that Frege says that they differ in cognitive value, not that the one has it while the other doesn't.  Ed says that the one has it while the other doesn't — assuming Ed is using 'informational content' to translate Erkenntniswert.  There is some annoying slippage here.

More importantly, I don't see how cognitive value/informational content can be had by such subsentential items as 'morning star' and 'evening star.'  Thus I question the validity of the inference from (1) & (2) to (3). Neither term gives us any information.  So it cannot be that they differ in the information they give.  Nor can they be contrasted in point of giving or not giving information.  Information is conveyable only by sentences or propositions.

I say this:  neither of the names Morgenstern (Phosphorus) or Abendstern (Hesperus) have cognitive value or informational content.  (The same holds, I think, if they are not proper names but definite descriptions.)  Only indicative sentences (Saetze) and the propositions (Gedanken) they express have such value or content.  As I see it, for Frege, names have sense (Sinn) and reference (Bedeutung), and they may conjure up  subjective ideas (Vorstellungen) in the minds of their  users.  But no name has cognitive value.  Sentences and propositions, however, have sense, reference, and cognitive value.  Interestingly, concept-words (Begriffswoerter)  or predicates also have sense and reference, but no cognitive value.

I also think Ed misrepresents the Compositionality Principle.  Frege is committed to compositionality of sense (Sinn),  not compositionality of informational content/cognitive value.  So adding the C. P. to his premise set will not validate the  above inference.

Idle Talk

Time was when I felt superior to those who lose themselves for hours in idle talk,  the endless yap, yap, yap, about noth, noth, nothing.  But superior to that superiority is benign indifference to the idlers, an indifference so indifferent that it permits a bit of engagement with them, not condescendingly, but in acknowledgement of our common humanity.