Can you engage with the political while retaining peace of mind? If not, avoid politics.
The monkish virtues are easy to cultivate and practice in the monastery. The trick, however, is to practice them in the world — where they are needed.
Can you engage with the political while retaining peace of mind? If not, avoid politics.
The monkish virtues are easy to cultivate and practice in the monastery. The trick, however, is to practice them in the world — where they are needed.
I regret having to kill you, but one of my thoughts is worth more than your entire life.
"But if the fly could speak, he would most assuredly disagree with your value assessment."
If the fly could speak, then I would consider him a spiritual being and accord him the respect I accord myself.
Conservative: God, guns, grub, gold.
Liberal: government, government, government, government.
At Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus 4.1271 we read: "So one cannot say, for example, 'There are objects', as one might say, 'There are books'."
In endnote 9, p. 194, of "The Number of Things," Peter van Inwagen (Phil. Issues 12, 2002) writes:
Wittgenstein says that one cannot say " 'There are objects', as one might say, 'There are books'." I have no idea what the words 'as one might say' ['wie man etwa sagt'] could mean so I will ignore them.
Is van Inwagen simply feigning incomprehension here? How could he fail to understand what those words mean? Wittgenstein's point is that object is a formal concept, unlike book. One can say, meaningfully, that there are books. One cannot say, meaningfully, that there are objects. Whether Wittgenstein is right is a further question. But what he is saying strikes me as clear enough, clear enough so that one ought to have some idea of what he is saying rather than no idea. By the way, van Inwagen is here engaging in a ploy of too many analytic philosophers. In a situation in which it is tolerably, but not totally, clear what is being said, they say, 'I have no idea what you mean' when, to avoid churlishness, they ought to say, 'Would you please clarify exactly what you mean?'
Be this as it may. Philosophers are a strange, in-bred breed of cat, and they acquire some strange tics. My present topic is not the tics of philosophers, nor formal concepts either.
According to Wittgenstein, one cannot say (meaningfully) that there are objects. Van Inwagen responds:
Why can one not say that there are objects? Why not say it this way: '(Ex)(x = x)'? (p. 180)
Without endorsing Wittgenstein's claim, or trying to determine what exactly it means, my thesis is that van Inwagen's translation of 'There are objects' as 'Something is self-identical' is hopeless.
I do not deny the logical equivalence of the two sentences. I do not claim that there are self-identical items that do not exist. Everything exists. My claim is that to exist is not to be self-identical. They are not the very same 'property.' If they were, then van Inwagen's translation would be unexceptionable. But they are not. Here is a reductio ad absurdum argument to show that existence and self-identity are distinct, that existence cannot be reduced to self-identity.
0. Existence and self-identity are the very same property. (Assumption for reductio)
1. If existence and self-identity are the very same property, then nonexistence and self-diversity are the very same property, and conversely. (Self-evident logical equivalence.)
2. Possibly, I do not exist. (Self-evident premise: I am a contingent being.)
3. Possibly, I am not self-identical. (From 1, 2)
4. What is not self-identical is self-diverse. (True by definition)
5. Possibly, I am self-diverse. (From 3, 4)
6. (5) is necessarily false.
7. (0) is false. Q.E.D.
The thin theory of existence is the theory that existence is exhaustively explicable in terms of the purely logical concepts of standard first-order predicate logic with identity. Identity and quantification are such concepts. Now the only way within this logic to translate 'There are objects' or 'Something exists' is the way van Inwagen suggests. But what I have just shown is that 'Something is self-identical' does not say what 'Something exists' says.
If things exist, then of course they are self-identical. What else would they be? Self-diverse? But their existence is not their self-identity. Their existence is their being there, their not being nothing, their reality — however you want to put it. If something is self-identical, it cannot be such unless it first exists. It astonishes me that there are people, very intelligent people, who cannot see that. What should we call this fallacy? The essentialist fallacy? The fallacy of thinking that being = what-being? Or maybe it is not a fallacy of thinking, but a kind of blindness. Some people are color-blind, some morally blind, some modally blind. And others existence-blind.
Obama showed his true colors quite unmistakably in his 'You didn't build that" speech. Yuval Steinitz has his number:
The president simply equates doing things together with doing things through government. He sees the citizen and the state, and nothing in between — and thus sees every political question as a choice between radical individualism and a federal program.
As I said before, it is a classic false alternative fallacy: either you pull yourself up by your own bootstraps or government helps you. This goes together with a straw man fallacy: Obama imputes to his opponents an absurd 'rugged individualism' that they do not espouse.
But most of life is lived somewhere between those two extremes, and American life in particular has given rise to unprecedented human flourishing because we have allowed the institutions that occupy the middle ground — the family, civil society, and the private economy — to thrive in relative freedom. Obama’s remarks in Virginia shed a bright light on his attitude toward that middle ground, and in that light a great deal of what his administration has done in this three and a half years suddenly grows clearer and more coherent, and even more disconcerting.
Disconcerting is right. It's an all-out, totalitarian assault on the institutions of civil society. The Left is totalitarian by its very nature and it can brook no competitors: not religion, not the family, not private charities and associations.
This intolerance of nonconformity is even more powerfully evident in the administration’s attitude toward the institutions of civil society, especially religious institutions involved in the crucial work of helping the needy and vulnerable. In a number of instances, but most notably in the controversy surrounding the Department of Health and Human Services rule requiring religious employers to provide free abortive and contraceptive drugs to their employees under Obamacare, the administration has shown an appalling contempt for the basic right of religious institutions to pursue their ends in accordance with their convictions.
It is important to recall just what the administration did in that instance. The HHS rule did not assert that people should have the freedom to use contraceptive or abortive drugs — which of course they do have in our country. It did not even say that the government facilitate people’s access to these drugs — which it does today and has done for decades. Rather, the rule required that the Catholic Church and other religious entities should facilitate people’s access to contraceptive and abortive drugs. It aimed to turn the institutions of civil society into active agents of the government’s ends, even in violation of their fundamental religious convictions.
The idea is to hollow out the space between the individual and the State, to clear it of the institutions of civil society that mediate between individual and state:
Indeed, the president and his administration don’t seem to have much use for that space at all. Even the family, which naturally stands between the individual and the community, is not essential. In May, the Obama campaign produced a Web slideshow called “The Life of Julia,” which follows a woman through the different stages of life and shows the many ways in which she benefits from public policies that the president advocates. It was an extraordinarily revealing work of propaganda, and what it revealed was just what the president showed us in Roanoke: a vision of society consisting entirely of the individual and the state. Julia’s life is the product of her individual choices enabled by public policies. She has an exceptional amount of direct contact with the federal government, yet we never meet her family. At the age of 31, we are told, “Julia decides to have a child” and “benefits from maternal checkups, prenatal care, and free screenings under health care reform.” She later benefits from all manner of educational, economic, and social programs, and seems to require and depend upon no one but the president.
[. . .]
The Left’s disdain for civil society is thus driven above all not by a desire to empower the state without limit, but by a deeply held concern that the mediating institutions in society — emphatically including the family, the church, and private enterprise — are instruments of prejudice, selfishness, backwardness, and resistance to change, and that in order to establish our national life on more rational grounds, the government needs to weaken and counteract them.
The Right’s high regard for civil society, meanwhile, is driven above all not by a disdain for government but by a deeply held belief in the importance of our diverse and evolved societal forms, without which we could not hope to secure our liberty. Conservatives seek mechanisms and institutions to bring implicit social knowledge to bear on our troubles, while progressives seek the authority and power to bring explicit technical knowledge to bear on them.
[. . .]
To ignore what stands between the state and the citizen is to disregard the essence of American life. To clear away what stands between the state and the citizen is to extinguish the sources of American freedom. The president is right to insist that America works best when Americans work together, but government is just one of the many things we do together, and it is only rarely the most important of them.
One of the problems with Romney is that he has no clue as to what the battle is really about. He thinks solely in economic terms. Paul Ryan or somebody should force the affable milque-toast to study Steinitz's piece and then give him a test on it.
ButI'll give Mitt this: his pick of Ryan as running mate was courageous and intelligent.
I've been watching old Alfred Hitchcock re-runs from '63 and '64. I must have seen some of these as a kid, but I've forgotten them all. On the night of 10 August I saw "The Magic Shop." What struck me was how similar in theme this is to the Twilight Zone episode, "It's a Good Life."
The very next morning I checked to see if a Twilight Zone episode was airing on the Sci Fi channel. There was, and it happened to be "It's a Good Life." So that is the coincidence, and you can make of it what you will.
Hitchcock is good, but he can't hold a candle to Serling. Rod Serling's 1959-1964 series was and is TV at its very best. The best of the episodes are inexhaustibly rich especially 50 years later. They provide an insight into the speech patterns, the mores, the sartorial habits, the politics, and the cinematography of the day. More importantly, many of them are morality tales that convey important moral truths and life lessons. Serling was above all a moral teacher. We have nothing like this on TV today. What we have are endless quantities of degrading garbage.
Old age for some is a sort of afterlife in a foreign country. One has lived beyond one's own time and now finds oneself among strangers.
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
That we could sit simply in that room again
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat
I'd give it all gladly
If our lives could be like that.
Wishing and hoping are both intentional attitudes: they take an object. One cannot just wish, or just hope, in the way one can just feel miserable or elated. If I wish, I wish for something. The same holds for hoping. How then do the two attitudes differ? They differ in terms of time, modality, and justification.
1. The object of hope lies in the future, of necessity. One cannot hope for what was or what is. In his dream, Dylan wished to be together again with his long lost friends. But he didn't hope to be together with them again. Coherent: 'I wish I had never been born.' Incoherent: 'I hope I had never been born.' Coherent: 'I wish I was with her right now.' Incoherent: 'I hope I was with her right now.'
Although hope is always and of necessity future-directed, wishing is not temporally restricted. 'I wish I were 30 again.' 'I wish I were in Hawaii now.' 'I wish to live to be a hundred.' I cannot hope to be 30 again or hope to be in Hawaii now. But I can both wish and hope to live to be a hundred.
Can I hope to be young again? That's ambiguous. I could hope for a medical breakthrough that would rejuvenate a person in the sense of making him physiologically young and I could hope to undergo such a rejuvenation. But I cannot hope to be calendrically young again.
2. One can hope only for what one considers to be possible. (What one considers to be possible may or may be possible.) But one can wish for both what one considers to be the possible and what one consider to be impossible. I can hope for a stay of execution, but not that I should continue to exist as a live animal after being hanged. ('Hanged' not 'hung'!) I can hope to survive my bodily death, but only if I consider it possible that I survive my bodily death. But I can wish for what I know to be impossible such as being young again, being able to run a 2:30 marathon, visiting Mars next year.
3. There is no sense in demanding of one who wishes to be cured of cancer that he supply his grounds or justification for so wishing. "Are you justified in wishing to be cancer-free?" But if he hopes to beat his cancer, then one can appropriately request the grounds of the hope.
If I both wish and hope for something I consider possible that lies in the future, then the difference between wishing and hoping rests on the fact that one can appropriately request grounds for hoping but not grounds for wishing.
I'll end with my favorite counterfactual conditional: 'If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.'
4/4 is the most common time signature, and 3/4 is fairly common. James Ray's If You Gotta Make a Fool Of Somebody (1961) is a good example of 3/4 time. Another beautiful example is Dylan's "Farewell Angelina," here sung by Joan Baez.
Dylan's Mr Tambourine Man is in 2/4 time — 1-2, 1-2, 1-2 — but the Byrds cast it into a danceable 4/4.
The Beatles' A Little Help From My Friends is in 4/4 time, but Joe Cocker covered it in 3/4.
Probably the most popular tune in 5/4 time is Dave Bruebeck's aptronymic Take Five from 1959. Jethro Tull's Living in the Past (1969) is also in 5/4 time.
You can guess the time signature of Cannonball Adderley's 74 Miles Away. I like McCoy Tyner's version of this even better, but couldn't find it.
Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill is also mainly in 7/4 time.
Suppose we acquiesce for the space of this post in QuineSpeak.
Then 'Horses exist' says no more and no less than that 'Something is a horse.' And 'Harry exists' says no more and no less than that 'Something is Harry.' But the 'is' does not have the same sense in both translations. The first is the 'is' of predication while the second is the 'is' of identity. The difference is reflected in the standard notation. The propositional function in the first case is Hx. The propositional function in the second case is x = h. Immediate juxtaposition of predicate constant and free variable is the sign for predication. '=' is the sign for identity. Different signs for different concepts. Identity is irreducible to predication which is presumably why first-order predicate logic with identity is so-called.
Those heir to the Fressellian position, such as Quine and his epigoni, dare not fudge the distinction between the two senses of 'is' lately noted. That, surely, is a cardinal tenet of their brand of analysis.
So even along Quinean lines, the strict univocity of 'exist(s)' across all its uses cannot be upheld. It cannot be upheld across the divide that separates general from singular existentials.
Or have I gone wrong somewhere?
One of the fruits of civilization is that it allows some of us to reflect upon civilization and its fruits — and its discontents.
Krauthammer 'nails it' brilliantly (emphasis added):
To say that all individuals are embedded in and the product of society is banal. Obama rises above banality by means of fallacy: equating society with government, the collectivity with the state. Of course we are shaped by our milieu. But the most formative, most important influence on the individual is not government. It is civil society, those elements of the collectivity that lie outside government: family, neighborhood, church, Rotary club, PTA, the voluntary associations that Tocqueville understood to be the genius of America and source of its energy and freedom.
Moreover, the greatest threat to a robust, autonomous civil society is the ever-growing Leviathan state and those like Obama who see it as the ultimate expression of the collective.
(One quibble: Krauthammer's "product of society" is too strong. But even the great stumble on occasion.)
How can Obama be so stupid that he doesn't understand the above? And how could we be so(collectively) stupid as to have elected the incompetent? (Don't blame me: I held my nose and voted for the effete and superannuated McCain.)
Obama commits a grotesque straw man fallacy when he imputes to conservatives and libertarians the view that each of us pulled himself up by his own bootstraps ex nihilo. That goes hand-in-glove with a fallacy of false alternative: either you did it all on your own, or government did it for you. As Krauthammer in effect points out, the institutions of civil society are neither the creation of the individual nor government agencies.
Should we be surprised?
President Barack Obama is backing a controversial campaign by progressives to regulate schools’ disciplinary actions so that members of major racial and ethnic groups are penalized at equal rates, regardless of individuals’ behavior.
"Regardless of individuals' behavior." Think about that.
There is no need to play the 'numbers game.' The photo ID requirement is a matter of principle.
Anyone with common sense ought to be able to appreciate that voting must be conducted in an orderly manner, a manner to inspire confidence in the citizenry, and that only citizens who have registered to vote and have satisfied the minimal requirements of age, etc., are to be allowed into the voting booth. Given the possibility of fraud, it is therefore necessary to verify the identities of those who present themselves at the polling place. To do this, voters must be required to present a government-issued photo ID card, a driver's license being only one example of such. It is a reasonable requirement and any reasonable person should be able to see it as one.
But if you want to play the 'numbers game' voter fraud does occur often enough to be a serious problem.
Death says, "I too am in Arcadia."
The contemplation of death, one's own in particular, cures one of the conceit that this life has a meaning absolute and self-contained. Only those who live naively in this world, hiding from themselves the fact of death, flirting with transhumanist arcadian and other utopian fantasies, can accord to this life the ultimate in reality and importance.
If you deny a life beyond the grave, I won't consider you foolish or even unreasonable. But if you anticipate a paradise on earth, I will consider you both. And if you work to attain such a state in defiance of morality, then I will consider you evil, as evil as the Communists of the 20th century who murdered 100 million to realize their impossible fantasies.
Guercino – Et in Arcadia Ego – 1618-22 – Roma, Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica di Palazzo Barberini