The Risks of Desert Hiking

In a society made litigious by an excess of lawyers, the need for various CYA maneuvers is correspondingly great. One such is the disclaimer. I particularly enjoy the disclaimers found in well-written hiking books. Rare is the hiking book that doesn't have one these days. The following is from Ted Tenny, Goldfield Mountain Hikes, p. 4:

The risks of desert hiking include, but are not limited to: heatstroke, heat exhaustion, heat prostration, heat cramps, sunburn, dehydration, flash floods, drowning, freezing, hypothermia, getting lost, getting stranded after dark, falling, tripping, being stung, clawed or bitten by venomous or non-venomous creatures, being scratched or stuck by thorny plants, being struck by lightning, falling rocks, natural or artificial objects falling from the sky, or a comet colliding with the Earth.

Still up for a hike?

Conservative Activism, the Left’s Incomprehension, and the Genetic Fallacy

'Conservative activism' has an oxymoronic ring to it.  Political activism does not come naturally to conservatives, as I point out in The Conservative Disadvantage.  But the times they are a 'changin' and so I concluded that piece by saying that  we now need to become active. "Not in the manner of the leftist who seeks meaning in activism for its own sake, but to defend ourselves and our values so that we can protect the private sphere from the Left's totalitarian encirclement.    The conservative values of liberty and self-reliance and fiscal responsibility are under massive assault by the Obama administration . . . ."

Leftists like to think that they own dissent, a conceit I demolish in Does the Left Own Dissent?  Truth is, they own dissent as little as they own activism.  But libs and leftists simply cannot credit conservative dissent.  They cannot take seriously what conservatives say, but must dismiss and psychologize.

Case in point, Michael Tomasky's Something New on the Mall.  To Tomasky's credit, he does not employ the derisive 'tea-bagger' epithet.  By the way, lefties ought to understand that they don't have proprietary rights in derision any more than they do in dissent.  So I suggest that if a leftist calls you a tea-bagger, return the compliment by calling him a scum-bagger.  A taste of his own medicine may do him some good, if not now, then later after he has grown up.

What struck me about Tomasky's lengthy piece is that there is not a hint of an admission that any of the points brought up by the conservative protesters have any merit.  Nor is there any attempt to rebut these points.  Instead we get a lengthy explanation of "how astroturfing works."  The derisive 'astroturf' is supposed to suggest that the protests are not genuine 'grass roots' expressions of populist  opposition to, among other things, fiscal recklessness, but have been artificially created and orchestrated by powerful 'corporate' interests:

This conservative protest movement, though, has three powerful forces supporting it: bottomless amounts of corporate money; an ideologically dedicated press, radio, and cable television apparatus eager to tout its existence; and elected officials who are willing to embrace it publicly and whose votes in support of the movement's positions can be absolutely relied upon.

But none of that is true of the progressive movement?  Substitute 'progressive movement' for 'conservative protest movement' in the above quotation and the result is actually closer to the truth.  More importantly, attempts by leftists to ferret out the underlying causes and motives of conservative positions border on the genetic fallacy.

The genetic fallacy is committed by those who fail to appreciate that questions about the truth or falsity, or rational acceptability or unacceptability, of a proposition are logically independent of questions about the origin or genesis of someone's believing the proposition.  Whether a proposition is true or false, or posseses some cognate epistemic property, is independent of any role that the believing of said proposition might play in the believer's mental economy. Thus if S's believing that p is comforting to S, it does not follow that p is false, or that S has no good reason for accepting that p. Similarly, if S's believing that p is painful to S, it does not follow that p is true, or that S has a good reason for accepting that p. And if you come to believe that 'Cash for Clunkers' is a policy that is both morally and economically objectionable because of arguments you heard  presented on a conservative talk show, it does not follow from the fact that your believing had that origin that the content of your belief is false or rationally insupportable.

 

From the Mail: On the Truth of Religion

This from a U. K. reader:

In your 'Maverick Philosopher' blog post on Friday 16th October, you address Carlo Strenger's Guardian article 'Atheism: Class is a distraction' and I think you have done the author a disservice.

You rightly point out that the argument "All Religions contradict one another, therefore no religion is correct" is a decidedly poor one. This is not however, what the author is trying to say.

"According to the Pew survey, 85% of humanity is religious in some way, and that's probably a low estimate, since nobody knows the true figures about China. This doesn't mean that religion is true (it can't, because religions contradict each other), but that there are strong cognitive and motivational factors that give religions an evolutionary advantage in the market of ideas. A scientific worldview is cognitively and emotionally more difficult, and hence at a disadvantage."

Strenger's point is not that 'because religions contradict each other, no religion can be true' but that given these contradictions, one cannot use the fact that 85% of the world's population are religious as support for religion's truth. If 85% of the world's population believe that humans cause global warming, that, at least prima facie, provides support for the theory. If however every one of that 85% has a different and non-compatible version of the theory then the fact is meaningless in this regard. Strenger goes on to use this statistic to support his view that religion has an easier time in the 'market of ideas'.

This is a charitable and creative interpretation of Stenger's meaning, and it may well be what he had in mind, though it is not quite what his words say.  In any case,  let's be charitable and construe Stenger's meaning as my U. K. correspondent does.  Accordingly, the fact (assuming it is one) that 85% of  the world's population is religious  does not support the view that religion is true because the various religions contradict one another.

But what is meant by 'religion is true'?  Religion is an abstraction; in concrete reality there are a large number of religions.  'Religion is true' could mean that (a) every religion is true; that (b) some one particular religion is true ;  that (c) some religion or other is true; or that (d) one or more propositions that capture the essence of all religions are true.

Now it is obvious that the fact that 85% of the world's population is religious does not support the view that every religion is true.  But then no reasonable person would suggest such a thing.  So we can exclude (a).  If this is what Stenger has in mind, then he is beating a dead horse.

It is also clear that the fact in question does not support the view that some one particular religion is true, Theravada Buddhism for example.  But then no reasonable person would take it mean such a thing.  So (b) ought to be excluded as well.

Does the fact that 85% of the world's population is religious support the view that some religion or other is true? Well, it might, especially if we take 'some religion or other' to range over both extant (actual) religions and possible religions.   The fact that religious attitudes, beliefs, and practices are widespread in time and space does lend some inductive support to the thesis that some religion or other, a religion yet to be worked out perhaps, is true. 

My last suggestion is that 'Religion is true' could be taken to mean that one or more propositions that capture the essence of all extant religions are true.  I grant that it is not obvious that religions share a common essence.  It may be that the various religions are related by Wittgensteinian 'family resemblances.'  And so it is not clear that there is a set of propositions that all religions worthy of the name  give expression to.  But it is arguable that there is such a set.   The fact that 85% of the world's population is religious would then provide some support for the truth of the propositions  in this set.

The Seven Deadly Sins of Pasta

One of my dinner partners last night chopped up his pasta with a fork.  I registered my disapprobation, and demonstrated the correct technique, but to no good effect.  He complained that doing it right was too much work.  So I had to write him off as unteachable in this particular despite his manifold excellences in virtually every other particular. The incident did, however, put me in mind of an old post from 7 April 2005 which richly deserves reposting.  One cannot say these things too often.

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The following are the Seven Deadly Sins pertaining to the cooking and eating of pasta. Infractions may incur a visit from my New Joisey cousin Vinnie and his pals Smith and Wesson.

1. Using too small of a pot. A capacious pot is essential for the proper cooking of pasta. For most purposes I use an 8 quart pot. When I make my famous lasagne, however, out comes the monster 16 quart job.

2. Insufficient water. Be sure the pot is filled three-quarters full. With a big pot, there is little chance of a boil-over. But in case of the latter, a little olive oil added to the water will quell any uprising.

3. Adding the pasta before the water is boiling. Wifey once broke this rule. I instructed her to add the pasta when the water boiled. She claims she did, and that led to a discussion of the meaning of ‘boiling.’ I hereby lay it down that water is not boiling unless it is ROILING and JUMPING. To put it a bit more scientifically, pure water at sea-level is not boiling until it is at 212 degrees Fahrenheit. Since our tap water is pretty good, I use it, not wanting to burden my reverse osmosis purification system.

4. Breaking the pasta before putting it in the pot. This criminal act is particularly repellent to the true connoiseur, and a sure sign of a pasta greenhorn. It defeats the whole purpose of the eating of (long) pasta, a tactile experience that requires the twirling of the strands around the fork, and, therefore, unbroken strands. Deadly sin #4 usually follows upon sin # 1, as drinking upon gambling.

5. Overcooking the pasta. Pasta must never be overcooked. It is to be prepared al dente. That’s Italian for to the tooth, meaning that the pasta should put up a bit of resistance to the tooth that bites into it. The pleasure of pasta consumption is largely tactile: the stuff by its lonesome does not have much taste.

6. Failing to properly drain the pasta before the addition of sauce. The result of this is a disgusting dilution of the sauce. Proper drainage requires the proper tool, the collander. Invest in a good one made of stainless steel. Plastic is for wimps. And if you try to drain pasta using the pot top, then you mark yourself as a bonehead of the first magnitude and may scald yourself in the process.

7. Chopping pasta on the plate. When I see people do this, I am tempted to make like al-Zarqawi and engage in an Islamo-fascist act. Let’s say you are eating capellini, ‘angel hair.’ (This is the quickest cooking of the long pastas.) There it is on the large white plate, richly sauced, anointed with a bit of extra virgin olive oil — why buy any other kind? — besprinkled with fresh hand-grated Romano, (not something out of a cardboard cylinder), artistically set off with a small amount of finely chopped parsley, and awaiting your attention. It is a thing of beauty. So what does a bonehead do? He starts chopping it up.

Learn how to do it right. Take some strands in the fork tines, twirl, and you should end up with a ball of pasta at the end of your fork. Practice makes perfect. Now enjoy the tactile delight along with a glass of Dago red.

If Religions Contradict Each Other, Does it Follow that No Religion is True?

This from a piece in guardian.co.uk:

According to the Pew survey, 85% of humanity is religious in some way, and that's probably a low estimate, since nobody knows the true figures about China. This doesn't mean that religion is true (it can't, because religions contradict each other), but that there are strong cognitive and motivational factors that give religions an evolutionary advantage in the market of ideas. A scientific worldview is cognitively and emotionally more difficult, and hence at a disadvantage.

This passage cries out for logico-philosophical analysis.  One of the claims that the author is making is that religion cannot be true because religions contradict each other.  What this presumably means is that no religion can be true because every religion contradicts every other religion.  If so, we are being offered the following argument:  (1) Every  religion contradicts every other other religion; therefore, (2) no religion is true.  I grant the premise arguendo.    In any case, it is plausible.  To supply an example, Christians affirm what both Jews and Muslims deny, namely, that Jesus of Nazareth is God incarnate.  So there is no question but that some religions contradict other religions in respect of some doctrinal propositions.  (But it is also true that some religions agree with other religions in respect of some doctrinal propositions.  For example, the three Abrahamic religions all agree on the proposition that God exists, and on plenty of others.) 

Generalizing, we can say that every religion  contradicts every other religion in the sense that no two religions share all the same central doctrinal commitments.  (I will refine this in a moment.) So even though Christianity  and Islam agree that there is but one God, they disagree on whether this one God is triune. And although Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Christians agree on much, they disagree on the filioque.  To make this a bit more precise, I suggest the following definition:

Religion R contradicts religion R* =df there is some central doctrinal proposition p which is affirmed by the adherents of R but denied by the adherents of R* or vice versa.

If this is what we mean by one religion contradicting another, then most religions contradict most other religions.  But consider a religion that affirms the existence of an immortal soul and another that takes no position on this question — neither affirming nor denying an immortal soul — on the ground that worrying about this doctrinal point merely distracts one from the unum necessarium, namely, working out one's salvation with diligence.  Assume further that these two religions are otherwise completely alike as to doctrine.  These two religions do not contradict each other by the above definition.

So one may wonder about the truth of (1).  For the sake of argument, however, let's grant it. Our main question is whether (2) follows from (1).  It obviously does not.  Consider Christianity and Islam.  They contradict each other by the definition I just gave.   But it doesn't follow that both are false.  For it could be that one is true and the other false.

Our author has committed an egregious logical blunder.  The logical mistake is not confined to the context of religon.  Suppose you and I disagree on any sort of point at all.  Suppose you affirm that anthropogenic global warming is taking place and I deny it.  It does not follow from our disagreement that we are both wrong.  What follows is that one of us is right and the other wrong.  This follows from the Law of Non-Contradiction according to which, necessarily, one member of a pair of contradictory propositions is true and the other not true.

The rest of the article is equally pisspoor as you may discover for yourself.

Richard Gaskin on the Unity of the Proposition

The following is my contribution to a symposium on Richard Gaskin's The Unity of the Proposition. The symposium, together with Gaskin's replies, is scheduled to  appear in the December 2009 issue of Dialectica.

GASKIN ON THE UNITY OF THE PROPOSITION

William F. Vallicella

While studying Richard Gaskin’s The Unity of the Proposition (Oxford 2008), the word ‘magisterial’came repeatedly to mind. Gaskin’s mastery of the history, literature, and dialectical intricacies of the problem of the unity of the proposition in all its ramifications is in evidence on every page. More than a treatment of a particular problem, Gaskin’s book is a systematic treatise in the philosophy of language organized around a particular but centrally important problem. To my knowledge, it is the most thorough and penetrating discussion of the unity of the proposition ever to appear. The fact that Gaskin’s solution to the unity problem is set within a systematic philosophy of language contributes to the book’s depth and richness, but also makes the task of the critic difficult. In a few pages, the critic cannot properly convey the systematic underpinnings of Gaskin’s formulation of the problem and his solution to it. And when the critic evaluates, he is forced to acknowledge that he is evaluating a solution embedded in a far-flung system whose ideas are mutually reinforcing. His critical points may then appear as ‘dialectical potshots’ if he cannot, as he cannot in a few pages, bring a competing system of mutually reinforcing ideas onto the field. These caveats having been registered, I proceed to sketch Gaskin’s project and raise some questions about his formulation of the unity problem. After conceding that Gaskin has solved the problem as he understands it, I will suggest that the problem lies deeper than he recognizes, and that the linguistic idealism in which he embeds his solution is problematic.

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Pessimistic Thoughts on Political Discourse in America

Mark Crispin Miller The following piece was written on 12 April 2006.  I repost it, slightly emended, because events since then have led me to believe that the grounds for pessimism are even stronger now than they were before.  It is becoming increasingly clear that conservatives and liberals/leftists live on 'different planets.'  And it is becoming increasingly clear which planet bears the name 'Reality.'  A return to federalism may help mitigate tensions, as I suggest here.  But that is not likely to happen.

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A few nights ago on C-Span I listened to a talk by Mark Crispin Miller given at the University of Massachusetts (Amherst). His theme was that of a book he had authored alleging that the 2004 election was stolen by the Republicans and how democracy is dead in the USA. Not having read Crispin's book, I cannot comment on it. But I will offer a few remarks on his talk.

Miller, a tenured professor at New York University, is obviously intelligent and highly articulate and entertaining to listen to, his mannerisms and delivery reminiscent of Woody Allen. He takes himself to be a defender of the values of the Enlightenment. But then so do I. So here is the beginning of a 'disconnect.' From my point of view, Miller is an extremist motivated by the standard Leftist fear of, and hostility toward, religion. (Miller's NYU colleague, Thomas Nagel, owns up to his fear of religion, as I document here.) Miller's hostility was betrayed a dozen or so times during his speech by mocking turns of phrase. But of course he doesn't see himself as an extremist but as a sober defender of values he feels are threatened by Christian Reconstructionism, also know as  Dominion Theology.

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Continental Philosophy Criticized: Levinas

Levinas-portrait Another example of Continental obscurity in my ongoing series comes from a philosopher I mainly respect, Emmanuel Levinas. The following passage is from Ethics and Infinity: Conversations with Philippe Nemo, tr. Richard A. Cohen (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1985, p. 106). It first appeared in French in 1982. It goes without saying that the numerals in brackets are my interpolation.

[1] The "invisible God" is not to be understood as God invisible to the senses, but as [2] God non-thematizable in thought and nonetheless as [3] non-indifferent to the thought which is not thematization, and [4] probably not even an intentionality.

Got that?  I will go through this passage bit by bit to show you what is wrong with this sort of writing and thinking.

Ad 1. To be properly formulated, this first clause must contain a word like ‘merely’ right after ‘understood.’ God is obviously invisible to the senses, and a formulation that suggests that he is not is inept. This sort of mistake is often made. For example, if what you want to say is that religion is not merely matter a matter of doctrine (because it is a matter of practice as well), then don’t say: Religion is not a matter of doctrine. For if you say the latter, then you say something that is just plain false.

Ad 2. We are being told that God is non-thematizable in thought. In plain English: God cannot be a theme or topic or object of thought. I am very sympathetic to this idea if what is intended is that God cannot be reduced to a mere object of thought whose being is exhausted by his objecthood. But since we are talking about God right now, there is some sense or other in which God is an object of thought. In some sense, we are thematizing God; we are thematizing him as a being whose being surpasses his thematicity.

You will note that I am now starting to write like a Continental philosopher. I know the idiom and can break into it when it suits me. I know their typical moves, althought they wouldn’t say ‘move’ inasmuch as that suggests something rigorous and logical like chess — and we can’t have that. The point, however, is that there is a problem here, and Levinas and Co. don’t do enough — or much of anything — to bring it into the open. The problem is to explain how we can think correctly of God as nonthematizable in thought if God has this very property. Or at least that is one aspect of the problem.

Ad 3. We are being told that there is a non-thematizing or non-objectifying mode of thinking and that God is non-indifferent to this mode of thinking. But what does ‘non-indifferent’ mean? Does it mean not different, so that the non-objectifying thinking of God just is God? Or does it perhaps mean that God cares about this mode of thinking? Who knows? And that’s the problem. Levinas takes no pains to be clear about what he means.  And the context does not help.

Ad 4. Finally, we are informed that the non-objectifying mode of thinking is "probably not even an intentionality." ‘Intentionality’ is a philosopher’s term of art for the peculiar of-ness, aboutness, or directedness of (some) mental states to their objects. So what Levinas is saying is that the non-objectifying mode of thinking lacks aboutness. But then what is it? Something like a mute sensory state, a pain, for example? Clearly, there is some sense in which a non-objectifying mode of thinking about God is about God – and about nothing else. This sense needs clarification.

To sum up. I am not trying to ‘refute’ Levinas.  I like him and agree with some of his ideas in Totality and Infinity, his critique of Heidegger for example.  I am not charging him with incoherence or self–contradiction above. What I am objecting to is the lack of time and energy spent on clarification, and on setting forth clearly the problems and questions implied by his ideas. Brentano, Husserl, and the early Sartre were clear-headed thinkers. After that, the early standards go by the board.

 

Saturday Night at the Oldies: Three Greenwich Village Folkies

Davedylan Remember Dave van Ronk?  I haven't heard his version of "Cocaine" in maybe 45 years.  Enjoy it before it is pulled.  Last Saturday I reminded you of Fred Neil.  Here is another delightful tune of his, I've Got a Secret.  Based loosely on Elizabeth Cotten's  Shake Sugaree.  And then there was a young cat who named himself after a Welsh poet, a callow youth who in his early days played guitar and harmonica much better than in later days and sang better too as you can hear in his versions of Cocaine and Rocks and Gravel.  But the Zeitgeist chose the unlikely Jewish kid from Hibbing, Minnesota as its avatar, and you know the rest of the story

Milton Munitz on Boundless Existence, Cosmic Spirituality, and the Meaning of Life

MKM_ForWebsite The last book Milton K Munitz published before his death in 1995 is entitled Does Life Have a Meaning? (Prometheus, 1993).  It is a fitting capstone to his distinguished career and exemplifies the traits for which I admire him: he is clear and precise like a good analytic philosopher, but he evinces the spiritual depth conspicuous by its absence in most analysts.  Philosophy for him was not a mere academic game: he grappled with ultimates.  Herewith, some notes toward a summary and critique of Munitz's position on the meaning-of-life question.  I will also draw upon his penultimate book, The Question of Reality (Princeton 1990), as well as Existence and Logic (NYU Press, 1974)  and The Mystery of Existence (NYU Press, 1974).  These titles will be abbreviated by 'LM,' ' QR,'  'EL,' and 'ME,'  respectively.  Words and phrases enclosed in double quotation marks are quotations from Munitz; otherwise I use single 'quotation' marks.

 

 


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Adding Insult to Injury

That we are formed and malformed by our environments from birth on is bad enough. It is made worse by those who want to see us as nothing but products of environment. These reductionists of course make an exception in their own cases. It is as if they say to us: "We are able to discern truth, but you are not. What we say expresses our insight, but what you say only expresses your conditioning."  That is the injustice of the psychologizer.