A defense of Foundationalism against Laurence Bonjour
Thesis:
Laurence Bonjour’s argument that Foundationalism fails to answer the regress problem with empirical justification fails because the requirement for justification that he requires is impossible to attain.
Exposition:
Laurence Bonjour’s paper Can Empirical Knowledge Have a Foundation? is a lengthy prose into the classic skeptical problems with knowledge and the various alternatives given over the years. In particular, he focuses on what he calls the untenable position of Foundationalism. In the body of his paper, Bonjour argues that Foundationalism fails to sufficiently answer the regress problem on empirical grounds. In order to prove this, Bonjour defines not only the nature of the infinite regress, but also two specific responses potentially given by a foundationalist to the immediate dispute over their claim to knowledge. However, in order to understand his claim against Foundationalism, Bonjour begins by defining the nature of the infinite regress.
The regress problem has to do with one of the fundamental issues surrounding epistemology: how can someone have knowledge? In philosophy, knowledge comes from a justified true belief. In other words, when someone has philosophic knowledge, she has a belief backed by some form of real-world justification. However, the common skeptical response is that this justification for a belief requires some further justification in order to believe its truth. Justification in this sense is reliable to the philosopher only because it is supported by said additional belief. For example, in order to support a theory of guilt in court, a lawyer must produce evidence to support his claim. In order to support the theory of his guilt, the prosecutors in the O.J. Simpson trial produced the evidence of a bloody glove that allegedly belonged to Mr. Simpson. The problem with supporting evidence is that it relies on further evidence to prove its legitimacy. Secondary support backfired for the prosecution in this case when they had Simpson try on the glove in front of the jury. When the glove didn’t fit, the secondary evidence (belief that the glove was his) was proven dubious and the primary evidence was put into jeopardy. The fragility between belief and justification is highlighted here. In order for a belief to lead to knowledge, it must have justification. Unfortunately, this justification requires belief in further justification. This chain of evidentiary support can continue indefinitely. This is the nature of the epistemic regress. The breadth and depth of such a regress is potentially infinite and, as Bonjour states: “vicious”.
Bonjour applies such a level of brutality to the regress for good reason. The very nature of the regress does not allow for any knowledge to be had at all. If belief and justification are constantly chasing each other down the rabbit hole, then justification can never truly begin. Without justification, there can be no knowledge. Such a skeptical response to knowledge is difficult to overcome. It’s an issue that Bonjour claims can only allow for four possibilities. The first is that the regress might terminate with beliefs for which no justification of any kind is available. This alternative fails the Kantian test of conception almost immediately. Let’s assume there is a single belief which requires no justification. All beliefs being equal in conception, this would mean all other beliefs would require no justification, either. Thus, the entire linear system of belief leads to justification becoming arbitrary. The second option is that the regress might proceed infinitely backwards with ever more new beliefs being introduced, themselves requiring justification. This option fails because it is simply repeating the original skeptical regress problem. Each belief would lead to a justification, ad infinitum. The only possible defense of this option, submitted by Bonjour, is to say that the regress is not vicious. Instead, we are simply incapable of conceiving of, or retaining the infinite number of distinct beliefs required for this view. In this case, there can be no true ordinary knower. The third possibility is that the regress might circle back upon itself. This alternative is, prima facie, one of the worst alternatives for Bonjour. After all, such an alternative is circular in nature and never allows for true justification to be had. In this case, the justifications must be justified before they can be justified. Thus, a paradox. However, Bonjour claims that such a system forgoes the linear nature of justification. Individual beliefs in a chain are replaced with a closed system of beliefs, each in support of one another creating a coherent whole. Such a system is not immune to its own string of skeptical problems, however. So, Bonjour sets this alternative to the side with the other two in light of the last option. The fourth possibility in response to the infinite regress, as presented by Bonjour, is that the regress might terminate because beliefs are reached which are justified but whose justification does not depend inferentially on other empirical beliefs. This alternative is similar to the first in that the regress is ended at a certain point of belief. However, this alternative requires the first (“basic”) belief to retain some sort of justification, but not one inferred by further belief. This is the core of Foundationalism.
For Bonjour, Foundationalism is the strongest answer to the skeptical regress problem presented by epistemic knowledge. It says there are beliefs which are justified, but those justifications require no further beliefs. These basic beliefs require no inference on any other belief in order to provide solid justification for a belief. As such, they are individually suitable to warrant justification and stop the infinite regress in its tracks. However, almost immediately Bonjour sees a problem with epistemic beliefs which require no empirical justification.
Bonjour’s attack on Foundationalism is centered on the concept of basic beliefs. His claim is that there is no way to provide proper non-inferential justification from an empirical perspective. He uses the theological analogy of the un-moved mover. He claims that it is impossible for a belief to impart motion (justification) on other beliefs without being in motion itself. Alternatively, Bonjour queries how a belief might impart “motion” on itself. This points back to the second response to the regress problem mentioned earlier; a belief is always being backed by another belief, creating an infinite chain of epistemic justification. Bonjour admits to forms of external justification for a belief: moral, practical, theological, etc. However, he sets up the requirement for true justification as one of epistemic value. He defines this form of justification as one that is related to the “cognitive goal of truth.” What he means by this is, the goal of providing this justification, is to pursue epistemic truth. Justification can be provided by moral standards or theological dogma, but true justification (for Bonjour) is provided by correlation with external truth. In order for justification to provide basic qualification, it must also be given a good reason for thinking the belief is true. Bonjour says: “it is hard to see how a particular empirical belief could be justified on a purely a priori basis.” In essence, he requires that, for a belief to be empirically true, it must exist prior to experience.
Bonjour gives the following argument against basic beliefs. If a belief is basic, non-inferential based on any other belief, then the feature which qualifies a belief as being basic must also be a good reason for believing it is true. In other words, there must be something (x) about a belief which makes it non-inferential. This feature (x) is also the reason to believe that the belief is epistemically true. He gives something similar to the following example:
1. Belief B has feature x.
2. Beliefs having feature x are highly likely to be true.
3. Therefore, B is highly likely to be true.
The problem that arises for Bonjour here is that B is still reliant on some further evidence (x) in order to be justified. Thus, it cannot be a basic belief.
Bonjour claims there are two possible responses to this problem with basic beliefs as long as the strong foundationalist remains within the confines of the traditional conception of knowledge, avoids embracing skepticism, and does not attempt to argue that an empirical belief could be justified on a purely a priori basis. On one hand, a foundationalist can point to the connection between her belief and empirical fact without knowing what that fact is exactly. The other possible response is similar to the first. However, in this case, the person would have a basic belief and knowledge of the external truth to which it correlates, but not necessarily how the two connect.
The first response, Bonjour refers to as “externalism”. He says that it is not always necessary that the person for whom the belief is basic know or even justifiably believe that it is available; instead, in the case of basic beliefs, it is sufficient that the premises for an argument of that general sort merely be true, whether or not that person justifiably believes that they are true. There simply must be a law like connection between the believer’s concept and the real world, whether or not she actually knows about it. The person merely needs to believe that her belief obtains to an epistemic state of affairs. An omnipotent observer could not only see the causal connection between the person’s belief and the justification for it, but the observer would herself believe in the connection.
Bonjour calls this an ad hoc solution to the regress problem. He argues that this approach avoids the regress problem in certain situations by claiming it doesn’t apply to certain beliefs. This is avoided by the justification being external and unknown to the believer. However, the point of the regress is that the believer knows not only her belief, but also the justification for it (if it exists). A superficially alternative version of externalism claims that the believer is aware of both her belief and the connection to some external justification. However, the connection is not required to be justified. Bonjour equates this to reading tea leaves or astrological charts.
The other potential response that Bonjour postulates is what he refers to as givenism. This is, as Bonjour claims, the standard foundationalist solution to this particular attack. The argument here is similar to externalism in that basic beliefs are justified by external epistemic circumstances. However, a givenist is aware of the external state of affairs which her belief ties into. Bonjour puts the argument in a similar manner to this:
1. If a belief is basic, then it can stop the regress
2. A belief is basic if it requires no further justification
3. For the givenist, basic beliefs are justified by reference to states of affairs in the world
4. These states of affairs are non-cognitive states that are immediately intuited with certainty by the knower
5. The knower can perceive the immediate external world
6. Thus, basic beliefs exist and the regress is ended.
In this case, the states of affairs which justify a basic belief are immediately presented and intuited by the person. In essence, the justification is “given” by objective, observable, external fact.
Bonjour’s response is simple: how? How are these states perceived? How is it possible for a belief to be justified purely on such an inference? Of the authors cited in his paper who support givenism, Bonjour cannot find anyone who explicitly describes the cognitive mechanism in which the intuition between belief and external states of affairs occurs. The nature of givenism is to have a belief which is intuitively justified by given external states. However, wouldn’t that intuition require additional belief in order to be true? This is Bonjour’s argument against givenism. If a given justification is not based on external evidence, then it must be on both the intuition and the justification simultaneously. In a sense, certain cognitive states justify themselves. Bonjour denies this option as a paradox.
For givenism, justification comes from a belief’s connection to a state of affairs in the world. The problem Bonjour presents with this view is why can such an assumption or intuition be made? Why does this intuition itself require no further justification? The intuition in this case would require justification and thus, the regress continues. Externalism and givenism both being equally untenable positions, Bonjour concludes that Foundationalism fails to respond adequately to the skeptical regress problem of knowledge. He also claims that the other immediate response to the regress; coherentism, is equally flawed in its presentation. Thus, Bonjour concludes that we must suspend judgment in light of a lack of adequate answers.
Criticism:
Since writing this paper, Bonjour has abandoned his critique and come out in favor of the Foundationalist view. In the interest of my critique here, however, I will avoid referring to his current perspective in order to leave some semblance of his original argument intact. The main problem with Bonjour’s criticism here is that he sets up a requirement for empirical justification that is impossible to reach.
One of the more well-known critiques of Descartes’ dualism is the alleged “leap” he made from the conceivability of extended body from the mind, to the probability of the extension of the body from the mind. This critique claims that possibility and conceivability are separated by the knowledge of essential properties. For something to exist, it must consist of all its essential properties. Thus, the possibility of something existing is consistent with all of these properties. Conceivability is a cognitive state of imagination, however; this means it is constrained by the properties the conceiver is aware of. Thus, according to this critique, Descartes cannot truly conceive of his extended body if he is unaware of all of its essential properties.
I believe this critique of Descartes to be akin to Bonjour’s critique of Foundationalism. Givenist foundationalists point to basic belief being supported by observable states of affairs in the external world. Bonjour critiques this argument by claiming that the inference of belief from given states of affairs is unexplained and thus, unjustified. In essence, this is a claim that we are unaware of all available properties relating to that intuition and are, therefore, unable to make such an inference.
My evaluation of both critiques is that they are both ridiculous. Like the Descartes critique, Bonjour sets up a requirement for empirical knowledge that is impossible to attain. First, knowledge requires belief and justification. Then, justification requires justification. Then, justification requires a base on which to grow. Basic belief then requires justification in order to be basic. Basic belief is justified by its correlation with real world fact. Then, justification is required for the inference between basic belief and external truth. Assuredly, if Bonjour’s intuitive justification hurdle were traversed and a basic belief were justified a priori, he would subsequently call the intuitive link between that belief and the concept of a priori into question.
Bonjour offers no true critique of Foundationalism. He merely creates a parallel skeptical regress to mirror the one required for knowledge. This is similar to the Cartesian critique in that it requires an impossible amount of justification in order to have knowledge. If you’re going to require adequate knowledge for justification, you’re not going to be able to justify anything.
Let’s revisit Cartesian doubt. Descartes reduced knowledge of the certainty of his existence to his ability to doubt it. This is a perfect example of givenism – justification for the existence of the universe has been reduced to a single basic belief: doubt. However, what is the justification for this belief? How does doubt lead to thinking and thus, the existence of the external world? Doubt is self-justifiable. The answer is briefly glossed over by Bonjour in a single sentence:
“One is reminded here of Chisholm’s claim that certain cognitive states justify themselves, but that extremely paradoxical remark hardly constitutes an explanation of how this is possible.”
Descartes’ ability to doubt is self-justificatory. The malevolent demon is able to deceive me in all possible ways, except for my ability to doubt. The only thing I can know for certain is that it’s possible I know nothing at all. In this case, my belief (that I can doubt) is empirically justified by my cognitive ability to doubt, and “If I have doubt, then I have doubt” is a priori. Therefore, it is possible to have a self-justifying cognitive belief which is justified by its own existence, or a priori. This is a strong foundationalist basic belief in that it requires no other basic beliefs in order to stop the knowledge regress. Therefore, Bonjour’s claim that basic belief cannot be both justified and a priori is false and Foundationalism stands firm.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Universal God
What do you picture when you hear the word 'God'? I'm not talking about any one particular faith or religious following. I mean the abstract notion of God. What is the nature of this grand supernatural being that goes by many names and ostensibly created the universe when he had nothing else to do? How does he work? The popularly accepted idea is exactly that: a great bearded man in the sky who created the universe on a whim. However, there is another metaphysical vision of 'God' that bears consideration.
In order to curb any confusion, I will be using the philosophic concept of ‘God’ to refer to our conventional understanding of him. In this case, he is omnipotent. That is; he is an all knowing, all powerful, all good entity. Now, those are some relatively broad terms. So, let's narrow them down.
First, let's look at the term "all good". It's held both theologically and philosophically that God is good, in that, he is opposed to evil. This idea features significantly in Descartes' Meditations on First Philosophy. In his work, Descartes argued that God doesn't necessarily exist by virtue of himself. It is possible that instead of God existing, we are being misled into believing that the world exists. We are being fooled by an all-malevolent demon. Think of the exact opposite of an all good God. This "Cartesian Demon" is always deceiving us all of the time. However, Descartes used this idea as a springboard for his biggest revelation. He reasoned that that there was one thing the deceiver was not able to make us doubt and that is our ability to doubt our own existence. This reasonably leads us to believe in our own existence because, if we have doubt, then we are thinking. If we are thinking, then we exist. The demon, being absolutely malevolent, could not allow such a situation to occur. Therefore a good God exists. Now, this is an abridged version of Descartes' theories, but it's an excellent example of what philosophers mean by "all good" in reference to the technical term 'God'.
"All knowing" is exactly what it sounds like. God by its own nature has knowledge of everything that exists in all times and places. Think of the entirety of God's knowledge as contained in an infinite encyclopedia. In this case, God has all knowledge of the universe, including all that of himself. A counter-argument is often brought up here pointing to the idea of free will. The concept of God doesn’t exclude the concept of free will. There are systems in the universe that limit our abilities every day (physics, logic, etc.). We make our free decisions based within these structures. I cannot choose to suddenly be omnipotent by virtue of free will because that is not contained within my nature as a human being. In this way, God simply has full knowledge of all possible outcomes in all possible scenarios and makes judgments based on this knowledge. In this way, God is all knowing.
"All powerful" is much easier to explain. If God were all powerful, then there is simply nothing he could not do, should he choose to. The will of God triumphs over all. There is a school of thought that says there exists two kinds of being: "necessary" and "contingent". Contingent beings exist by virtue of something else. A daughter exists by virtue of her parents, etc. This easily leads to an infinite regress of existence between parents and children. Think of the old cliché of the chicken and the egg. Theology solves this ancestral regress with the foundational approach of creationism. There exists a point where beings stop being contingent on one another and become contingent on the supernatural creative hand of God. Adam and Eve were contingent on God’s creation. So, what is God contingent on? Many would say that God is not contingent on anything else. He exists by virtue of his own will. This is what we would call a “necessary” being. This is the essence of the proposal that God is all powerful.
Now we have a strong concept of what makes up the idea of God. However, something is still missing. There's an inference behind the whole of our notion of God that has cornered us into a specific image of him and his nature. This is the idea that he is a ‘he’, that he has a personality. We've been trained through formal theology to picture God as a single omnipotent entity, a great bearded man in the sky lording over all things great and small. We are limited in our understanding as humans. So, we equate this infinite being with ourselves because, we are the only comparison available to make. Unfortunately, this idea brings with it all manner of personifications. Consider the classic atheistic argument:
1. If God were all knowing, all powerful, and all good he would not allow evil to exist.
2. Evil exists.
3. Therefore, God does not exist.
One response to this is to point to the balance of good and evil. Without evil, there can be no good or appreciation of good. Both this argument and its response imply a personification onto the idea of God that I think shouldn't belong.
Both the atheistic argument and the theological response above infer that God is a single entity with a rational mind. Thinking about him in that way provides too much breeding ground for concepts of fallibility and infallibility, divine choice, and interpretations of his will. Let’s set aside all notions of God having a personality for a moment. This allows us to look at the notion of 'God' without losing the previously decided basics of its nature. We can keep the omnipotent character of ‘God’ and all that entails. Losing the single personality also allows us to drop the image of God as a particular being.
Here’s where I might lose some of you, but please stick with me. What if God were more than one thing? What if ‘God’ were all things? This is not to mean the classic Sunday school “God is all around us” suggestion, but rather the idea that God IS everything around us. Baruch Spinoza was one philosopher who offered such an abstract concept of God. He saw ‘God’ as a sort of natural system governing the universe. God in this sense is not just the rocks and the trees, but the guiding force behind everything. God is the nature of the choice between right and wrong. God is the coalition of natural forces that forms hurricanes. God is the chaos and order in the universe both external and internal to the human being. We created ‘God’ as much as it exists external to us. God is the Universe and everything in it. That’s not to say that the two concepts (God and the universe) share the exact same qualities. They are the same thing. In this way, the universe is all knowing because everything that exists, exists within it. By the same token, the universe is all powerful. The only notion we may have to give up is the idea of it being all good. However, if we look back to Descartes, God was good because it created rather than deceived and destroyed. The same holds up here.
As a special request to some of you who read this, I don’t wish for you to dismiss this idea as some appeal to the previously established Paganism or Wicca or anything along those lines. Those ideas still worship some form of external supernatural being(s) that run the universe. The metaphysical exercise I’m presenting here is a systematic approach to the universe. As such, there are no beings to worship, no systems to obey. ‘God’ is the universe around us, the beings within it, the systems ruling it and the changes we make to it. When we remove the notion of God’s personality, we take away the apparent virtues of love and understanding that so many have latched on to in the traditional mono- and poly-theistic religions. However, if one looks back to the universe’s capacity for goodness, they will see that the mere fact of their existence infers a great, if not the greatest, gift having already been given.
In order to curb any confusion, I will be using the philosophic concept of ‘God’ to refer to our conventional understanding of him. In this case, he is omnipotent. That is; he is an all knowing, all powerful, all good entity. Now, those are some relatively broad terms. So, let's narrow them down.
First, let's look at the term "all good". It's held both theologically and philosophically that God is good, in that, he is opposed to evil. This idea features significantly in Descartes' Meditations on First Philosophy. In his work, Descartes argued that God doesn't necessarily exist by virtue of himself. It is possible that instead of God existing, we are being misled into believing that the world exists. We are being fooled by an all-malevolent demon. Think of the exact opposite of an all good God. This "Cartesian Demon" is always deceiving us all of the time. However, Descartes used this idea as a springboard for his biggest revelation. He reasoned that that there was one thing the deceiver was not able to make us doubt and that is our ability to doubt our own existence. This reasonably leads us to believe in our own existence because, if we have doubt, then we are thinking. If we are thinking, then we exist. The demon, being absolutely malevolent, could not allow such a situation to occur. Therefore a good God exists. Now, this is an abridged version of Descartes' theories, but it's an excellent example of what philosophers mean by "all good" in reference to the technical term 'God'.
"All knowing" is exactly what it sounds like. God by its own nature has knowledge of everything that exists in all times and places. Think of the entirety of God's knowledge as contained in an infinite encyclopedia. In this case, God has all knowledge of the universe, including all that of himself. A counter-argument is often brought up here pointing to the idea of free will. The concept of God doesn’t exclude the concept of free will. There are systems in the universe that limit our abilities every day (physics, logic, etc.). We make our free decisions based within these structures. I cannot choose to suddenly be omnipotent by virtue of free will because that is not contained within my nature as a human being. In this way, God simply has full knowledge of all possible outcomes in all possible scenarios and makes judgments based on this knowledge. In this way, God is all knowing.
"All powerful" is much easier to explain. If God were all powerful, then there is simply nothing he could not do, should he choose to. The will of God triumphs over all. There is a school of thought that says there exists two kinds of being: "necessary" and "contingent". Contingent beings exist by virtue of something else. A daughter exists by virtue of her parents, etc. This easily leads to an infinite regress of existence between parents and children. Think of the old cliché of the chicken and the egg. Theology solves this ancestral regress with the foundational approach of creationism. There exists a point where beings stop being contingent on one another and become contingent on the supernatural creative hand of God. Adam and Eve were contingent on God’s creation. So, what is God contingent on? Many would say that God is not contingent on anything else. He exists by virtue of his own will. This is what we would call a “necessary” being. This is the essence of the proposal that God is all powerful.
Now we have a strong concept of what makes up the idea of God. However, something is still missing. There's an inference behind the whole of our notion of God that has cornered us into a specific image of him and his nature. This is the idea that he is a ‘he’, that he has a personality. We've been trained through formal theology to picture God as a single omnipotent entity, a great bearded man in the sky lording over all things great and small. We are limited in our understanding as humans. So, we equate this infinite being with ourselves because, we are the only comparison available to make. Unfortunately, this idea brings with it all manner of personifications. Consider the classic atheistic argument:
1. If God were all knowing, all powerful, and all good he would not allow evil to exist.
2. Evil exists.
3. Therefore, God does not exist.
One response to this is to point to the balance of good and evil. Without evil, there can be no good or appreciation of good. Both this argument and its response imply a personification onto the idea of God that I think shouldn't belong.
Both the atheistic argument and the theological response above infer that God is a single entity with a rational mind. Thinking about him in that way provides too much breeding ground for concepts of fallibility and infallibility, divine choice, and interpretations of his will. Let’s set aside all notions of God having a personality for a moment. This allows us to look at the notion of 'God' without losing the previously decided basics of its nature. We can keep the omnipotent character of ‘God’ and all that entails. Losing the single personality also allows us to drop the image of God as a particular being.
Here’s where I might lose some of you, but please stick with me. What if God were more than one thing? What if ‘God’ were all things? This is not to mean the classic Sunday school “God is all around us” suggestion, but rather the idea that God IS everything around us. Baruch Spinoza was one philosopher who offered such an abstract concept of God. He saw ‘God’ as a sort of natural system governing the universe. God in this sense is not just the rocks and the trees, but the guiding force behind everything. God is the nature of the choice between right and wrong. God is the coalition of natural forces that forms hurricanes. God is the chaos and order in the universe both external and internal to the human being. We created ‘God’ as much as it exists external to us. God is the Universe and everything in it. That’s not to say that the two concepts (God and the universe) share the exact same qualities. They are the same thing. In this way, the universe is all knowing because everything that exists, exists within it. By the same token, the universe is all powerful. The only notion we may have to give up is the idea of it being all good. However, if we look back to Descartes, God was good because it created rather than deceived and destroyed. The same holds up here.
As a special request to some of you who read this, I don’t wish for you to dismiss this idea as some appeal to the previously established Paganism or Wicca or anything along those lines. Those ideas still worship some form of external supernatural being(s) that run the universe. The metaphysical exercise I’m presenting here is a systematic approach to the universe. As such, there are no beings to worship, no systems to obey. ‘God’ is the universe around us, the beings within it, the systems ruling it and the changes we make to it. When we remove the notion of God’s personality, we take away the apparent virtues of love and understanding that so many have latched on to in the traditional mono- and poly-theistic religions. However, if one looks back to the universe’s capacity for goodness, they will see that the mere fact of their existence infers a great, if not the greatest, gift having already been given.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means.
I think that if you believe in something, you should be able to back it up through facts, not opinion. If, through debate with your peers, you discover that your belief doesn't hold the weight you thought it did, you should consider changing it. It's cowardly to present a strong emotional message about how one ought to act and then hide behind unresponsiveness in order to avoid dissenting criticism.
It seems to me that, as of late, people have forgotten how to argue. That's not to say that people don't know how to have an argument, but, as they say; I don't think that word means what you think it means. An argument, scholastically known, is a conclusion supported by premises. In other words, it's a position you're taking and the evidence you're using to back it up.
This is contrary to the colloquially understood accounts of argument widely used today. We recognize the word 'argument' to mean two opposing positions on one idea fighting over which side is correct, or more factual. Imagine two kids fighting on the playground over which has more right to the swing set. They both believe each one is right and neither will back down. One might even present support for herself by claiming she was there first, etc. A better description of this state of affairs is simple "contradiction".
A more sophisticated version of this disagreement is found in news punditry. When you watch a news channel and you see two "talking heads" debating the political issue of the moment, you're most likely watching a mature version of the two children in the schoolyard example. Both people have opinions on the issue and they are fighting for the validity of their sides. Again, most likely, just contradiction. This is not "argumentation".
If you remember a couple of posts back, I talked about knowledge and what you need to have it: a justified, true belief. This is not dissimilar from a properly formed argument. An argument is a conclusion supported by premises. In this case, the belief would be your conclusion and the real world justifications are your premises. Here's an example of a properly formed argument:
1. Mammals are hairy.
2. Cats are hairy.
3. Therefore, cats are mammals.
This is the simplest of arguments. The premises (1 & 2) setup the necessary conditions for the conclusion (3) to follow.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "What about hairless cats? Are they not mammals?" I would respond: "No! Have you seen those things?! They look disgusting! They're meowing little demon spawn." Congratulations! You may not have realized it, but you are now participating in a debate. When you made the point about hairless cats, you presented a flaw in one of the premises in my argument. That is, the assumption that all cats are hairy.
In this case, you attacked the "soundness" of my argument. This is one of two ways to criticize an argument. A "sound" argument is one where all of the premises are true. If someone presents a premise to you and you know it to be false for one reason or another, then that premise cannot be used to support the given conclusion. A "valid" argument means that, all premises being true, the conclusion must be true. In other words, if you have premises that are true, then the conclusion must be relevant and true. The following is an invalid argument:
1. Some cats are hairy.
2. Some dogs are hairy.
3. Therefore, some cats are dogs.
The premises (1 & 2) are true, but the conclusion (3) is, by definition, false. If you can't see that, then you may have wasted your time reading this and should be at home, coloring.
Many of today’s "authorities" try to pass off opinion based on emotional testimony as fact backed by objective evidence. This is the source of confusion on most topics we struggle to understand in our social lives. In the future, try to demarcate simple emotional contradiction from objectively assessable argumentation. The latter provides the best tool for us to collectively understand the world around us, our places in it, and how we should treat one another along the way.
It seems to me that, as of late, people have forgotten how to argue. That's not to say that people don't know how to have an argument, but, as they say; I don't think that word means what you think it means. An argument, scholastically known, is a conclusion supported by premises. In other words, it's a position you're taking and the evidence you're using to back it up.
This is contrary to the colloquially understood accounts of argument widely used today. We recognize the word 'argument' to mean two opposing positions on one idea fighting over which side is correct, or more factual. Imagine two kids fighting on the playground over which has more right to the swing set. They both believe each one is right and neither will back down. One might even present support for herself by claiming she was there first, etc. A better description of this state of affairs is simple "contradiction".
A more sophisticated version of this disagreement is found in news punditry. When you watch a news channel and you see two "talking heads" debating the political issue of the moment, you're most likely watching a mature version of the two children in the schoolyard example. Both people have opinions on the issue and they are fighting for the validity of their sides. Again, most likely, just contradiction. This is not "argumentation".
If you remember a couple of posts back, I talked about knowledge and what you need to have it: a justified, true belief. This is not dissimilar from a properly formed argument. An argument is a conclusion supported by premises. In this case, the belief would be your conclusion and the real world justifications are your premises. Here's an example of a properly formed argument:
1. Mammals are hairy.
2. Cats are hairy.
3. Therefore, cats are mammals.
This is the simplest of arguments. The premises (1 & 2) setup the necessary conditions for the conclusion (3) to follow.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "What about hairless cats? Are they not mammals?" I would respond: "No! Have you seen those things?! They look disgusting! They're meowing little demon spawn." Congratulations! You may not have realized it, but you are now participating in a debate. When you made the point about hairless cats, you presented a flaw in one of the premises in my argument. That is, the assumption that all cats are hairy.
In this case, you attacked the "soundness" of my argument. This is one of two ways to criticize an argument. A "sound" argument is one where all of the premises are true. If someone presents a premise to you and you know it to be false for one reason or another, then that premise cannot be used to support the given conclusion. A "valid" argument means that, all premises being true, the conclusion must be true. In other words, if you have premises that are true, then the conclusion must be relevant and true. The following is an invalid argument:
1. Some cats are hairy.
2. Some dogs are hairy.
3. Therefore, some cats are dogs.
The premises (1 & 2) are true, but the conclusion (3) is, by definition, false. If you can't see that, then you may have wasted your time reading this and should be at home, coloring.
Many of today’s "authorities" try to pass off opinion based on emotional testimony as fact backed by objective evidence. This is the source of confusion on most topics we struggle to understand in our social lives. In the future, try to demarcate simple emotional contradiction from objectively assessable argumentation. The latter provides the best tool for us to collectively understand the world around us, our places in it, and how we should treat one another along the way.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Did I really just see that?
Perception is a tricky subject when approached philosophically. But, then again, which subject isn’t? In philosophy, the area concerning external perception specifically is referred to as “perceptual realism”. Within this arena, there are two subgenres of thought: Direct realism and indirect realism. Both acknowledge the existence of an external world and that our senses provide the window into that world. However, both schools of thought differ in how our minds come into contact with it. In this paper, I will explore the nature of these two forms of thought surrounding external perception along with the various challengers and responses.
Direct Realism, also known as “Naïve Realism”, asserts that there is an external world of objects that exist independent of perception. These objects retain their existence and their properties even if they are not being perceived. Specifically, direct realism states that we are in direct perceptual contact with these external objects. As a direct realist, I know that my keyboard is black and smooth to the touch. I know it is black because my eyes can see, by the way the light bounces off of its surface, that the keyboard is black in color. I know it is smooth to the touch because every time my fingers come into contact with a key, it reports back that it is worn down smooth from overuse.
Direct realism is also referred to as “common sense realism” because it accepts prima facie that what is being perceived actually exists external to the mind. However, there are significant challenges to this so-called “naive” approach. The biggest objection to direct realism is in the case of hallucination. In hallucination, the brain creates an internal representation of an external object where one does not exist. However, direct realism does not allow for this kind of discrepancy. This suggests that the mind plays some role in creating awareness of an external object rather than simply perceiving it. This leads us away from direct realism and towards indirect realism.
Indirect realism embraces the idea of these internal objects of awareness. In fact, indirect realism, or “representationalism”, states that we create internal objects of awareness that represent the ideas of the external objects and that is how we perceive the world. In this case, the senses perceive the properties of an external object without coming into contact with it directly. The mind then uses these ideas (or “sense data”) to create an internal representation of the object. An example of this can be found in the Platonic Forms. Plato held that the only way we could have an idea of one of his forms was through an imperfect replication in our world. Indirect realists never come into true contact with the external world. They can only perceive its qualities through sense data. In this way, indirect realists could never have knowledge of the external world, merely a justified belief about it through the evidence of sense data.
Skeptics respond to indirect realism by saying that it can never have a true picture of the world. If the mind can only be fully aware of internal objects, it cannot correlate these objects with the real world truth because it has no independent awareness. Dancy responds to this by pointing to Locke’s perception. Dancy claims that we are simultaneously aware of the idea of an object as well as the object itself. Think of the mirror. We are aware of the properties of an object in the mirror because that’s what we perceive. However, we are also aware of the mirror itself. Thus, we know we’re looking at only the properties of an object, but we also know that said object exists passed the simple reflection. This dual awareness allows the correlation objected to by the representational skeptic.
Indirect and direct realists agree with the notion that the external world exists beyond our minds. Both schools of thought agree that we interact with that world daily through our perception. The apparent naivety of one and contradiction of the other are large targets for skeptics of both theories. Perception is a tricky subject for philosophers. I find both of these theories comforting in the admittance of an external world that will continue to exist when my eyes close and open again.
Direct Realism, also known as “Naïve Realism”, asserts that there is an external world of objects that exist independent of perception. These objects retain their existence and their properties even if they are not being perceived. Specifically, direct realism states that we are in direct perceptual contact with these external objects. As a direct realist, I know that my keyboard is black and smooth to the touch. I know it is black because my eyes can see, by the way the light bounces off of its surface, that the keyboard is black in color. I know it is smooth to the touch because every time my fingers come into contact with a key, it reports back that it is worn down smooth from overuse.
Direct realism is also referred to as “common sense realism” because it accepts prima facie that what is being perceived actually exists external to the mind. However, there are significant challenges to this so-called “naive” approach. The biggest objection to direct realism is in the case of hallucination. In hallucination, the brain creates an internal representation of an external object where one does not exist. However, direct realism does not allow for this kind of discrepancy. This suggests that the mind plays some role in creating awareness of an external object rather than simply perceiving it. This leads us away from direct realism and towards indirect realism.
Indirect realism embraces the idea of these internal objects of awareness. In fact, indirect realism, or “representationalism”, states that we create internal objects of awareness that represent the ideas of the external objects and that is how we perceive the world. In this case, the senses perceive the properties of an external object without coming into contact with it directly. The mind then uses these ideas (or “sense data”) to create an internal representation of the object. An example of this can be found in the Platonic Forms. Plato held that the only way we could have an idea of one of his forms was through an imperfect replication in our world. Indirect realists never come into true contact with the external world. They can only perceive its qualities through sense data. In this way, indirect realists could never have knowledge of the external world, merely a justified belief about it through the evidence of sense data.
Skeptics respond to indirect realism by saying that it can never have a true picture of the world. If the mind can only be fully aware of internal objects, it cannot correlate these objects with the real world truth because it has no independent awareness. Dancy responds to this by pointing to Locke’s perception. Dancy claims that we are simultaneously aware of the idea of an object as well as the object itself. Think of the mirror. We are aware of the properties of an object in the mirror because that’s what we perceive. However, we are also aware of the mirror itself. Thus, we know we’re looking at only the properties of an object, but we also know that said object exists passed the simple reflection. This dual awareness allows the correlation objected to by the representational skeptic.
Indirect and direct realists agree with the notion that the external world exists beyond our minds. Both schools of thought agree that we interact with that world daily through our perception. The apparent naivety of one and contradiction of the other are large targets for skeptics of both theories. Perception is a tricky subject for philosophers. I find both of these theories comforting in the admittance of an external world that will continue to exist when my eyes close and open again.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Relativity of Tragedy
At what point does tragedy become an annoyance? Consider the following scenario, the consequences of which I am still experiencing. It's 2 am. I am drifting off to sleep inside of my tent listening to the rhythmic breathing of my bedmate and the ocassional hum of a passing vehicle on the nearby highway. Suddenly, the night is punctuated by the audible evidence of a wreck, the sound of which will haunt me for some time. Based on the proximity of the crash and the screeching tires preceding it, I can assume that at least one victim came from these very campgrounds and thus, was likely drunk.
This is trivial of course because I am neither a victim, nor a helper in the scenario. However, these are the thoughts now puncuating my active, sleepless brain. Ocassionally, I can hear the odd passing car running over debris. The direction of travel for these cars and their lack of reducing speed tells me where and how the impact occured. Now I have a picture of the wreck in my head on which to apply the sounds of the various goings on. "It's going to be hard to go to sleep" I tell myself.
However, as minutes pass, the world quiets down. I tell myself that it must not have been as bad as I thought. I relax and start to slowly drift off again. Then, in the distance, the long-awaited report of an approaching siren. I perk my ears up and am ready to start gathering information again. One cop and one ambulance show up, the cop first. However, this is not enough to hold my interest and, eventually I start to drift off once again. I am actively awoken by the next report on the developing situation on the highway. The unmistakable deafening whir of a helicopter's rotors roaring directly above the campground. The wreck was more serious than I thought. At this point, I've lost all curiosity about the event happening nearby in the face of shear annoyance over my lack of sleep.
Herein is where my point lays. At what point does tragedy become an annoyance? It seems almost crass to even consider yourself over another's grief. Based on the helicopters time on the ground, I reasoned that it was more likely a specialist had been flown in to help revive someone, or some other outcome with equally tragic circumstances. I think the answer to my question is found in an idea closest resembling Einstein's Relativity. As with time for Einstein, tragedy becomes comedy or annoyance relative to your position to the incident. I have no personal stake in the wreck nor anyone involved in it. The extent to which I am connected to it is its effects on my sleep. Thus, it is not inappropriate for me to feel anger or lack of apathy towards the victims of the crash, because that is the extent of my involvement, much like the drivers on the road which are now being allowed to continue on their way since the helicopter has left. We are allowed to be angry at the event or more specifically, the unnamed driver who caused it, because that is our relative position to the incident.
This is trivial of course because I am neither a victim, nor a helper in the scenario. However, these are the thoughts now puncuating my active, sleepless brain. Ocassionally, I can hear the odd passing car running over debris. The direction of travel for these cars and their lack of reducing speed tells me where and how the impact occured. Now I have a picture of the wreck in my head on which to apply the sounds of the various goings on. "It's going to be hard to go to sleep" I tell myself.
However, as minutes pass, the world quiets down. I tell myself that it must not have been as bad as I thought. I relax and start to slowly drift off again. Then, in the distance, the long-awaited report of an approaching siren. I perk my ears up and am ready to start gathering information again. One cop and one ambulance show up, the cop first. However, this is not enough to hold my interest and, eventually I start to drift off once again. I am actively awoken by the next report on the developing situation on the highway. The unmistakable deafening whir of a helicopter's rotors roaring directly above the campground. The wreck was more serious than I thought. At this point, I've lost all curiosity about the event happening nearby in the face of shear annoyance over my lack of sleep.
Herein is where my point lays. At what point does tragedy become an annoyance? It seems almost crass to even consider yourself over another's grief. Based on the helicopters time on the ground, I reasoned that it was more likely a specialist had been flown in to help revive someone, or some other outcome with equally tragic circumstances. I think the answer to my question is found in an idea closest resembling Einstein's Relativity. As with time for Einstein, tragedy becomes comedy or annoyance relative to your position to the incident. I have no personal stake in the wreck nor anyone involved in it. The extent to which I am connected to it is its effects on my sleep. Thus, it is not inappropriate for me to feel anger or lack of apathy towards the victims of the crash, because that is the extent of my involvement, much like the drivers on the road which are now being allowed to continue on their way since the helicopter has left. We are allowed to be angry at the event or more specifically, the unnamed driver who caused it, because that is our relative position to the incident.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Who says?
We've discussed the basic requirements for knowledge. If you remember, knowledge is obtained when you have a belief justified by real-world truth. We even discussed two schools of thought about when you do and don't have that real-world justification. What we didn't cover is the criteria under which we gain that justification.
So, what should we consider the proper conditions under which we attain justification for knowledge? Consider the following story (with added drama for effect). You are the sonar operator on a submarine. You are currently engaged with an enemy submarine and you have one torpedo left. It's up to you to save your crewmates by finding the other sub before it finds you. Suddenly, on the screen, a blip appears. The other sub! You relay the coordinates to the torpedo room and they use the last missile to sink the enemy into a watery abyss. Congratulations! You lived to scuttle another day.
Now, I'd like to pose a question. Did you know the other submarine was there? Of course you did. The sonar showed the blip and the torpedo hit the other submarine, which was right where the sonar told you it would be. You had knowledge (the other sub's location) based on a justified belief (the sonar blip) which came from truth (the enemy submarine's location).
Now, let me rewind the clock and look behind the curtain of this scenario. What if I told you that you had a spy on-board your boat? His mission was to tamper with the sonar system in order to make it appear that there was a submarine where one did not exist, thereby making your torpedoes wildly inaccurate. Now, when you look at the blip on screen, what do you see? You see a blip where (unbeknownst to you) no blip should be. However, you reasoned that there is a submarine where there actually wasn't. "But wait! Then, what did we hit?!" you ask. Well, in some strange twist of fate, the enemy submarine just happened to appear in the exact spot the faulty sonar told you it would be, and therefore, you hit it. So, can you say that you had knowledge of the submarine's location?
This is what's referred to as a "Gettier" case, after Edmund Gettier. The idea is that you can have the "justified belief" mentioned last time and still not have real knowledge. You do not have knowledge because your justified belief did not reflect the real world circumstances. This is also called reasoning from a false premise. You can reason correctly based on false evidence but still have the outcome that resembles knowledge.
So, when considering what you know and how you know it, take a step back and consider your sources.
So, what should we consider the proper conditions under which we attain justification for knowledge? Consider the following story (with added drama for effect). You are the sonar operator on a submarine. You are currently engaged with an enemy submarine and you have one torpedo left. It's up to you to save your crewmates by finding the other sub before it finds you. Suddenly, on the screen, a blip appears. The other sub! You relay the coordinates to the torpedo room and they use the last missile to sink the enemy into a watery abyss. Congratulations! You lived to scuttle another day.
Now, I'd like to pose a question. Did you know the other submarine was there? Of course you did. The sonar showed the blip and the torpedo hit the other submarine, which was right where the sonar told you it would be. You had knowledge (the other sub's location) based on a justified belief (the sonar blip) which came from truth (the enemy submarine's location).
Now, let me rewind the clock and look behind the curtain of this scenario. What if I told you that you had a spy on-board your boat? His mission was to tamper with the sonar system in order to make it appear that there was a submarine where one did not exist, thereby making your torpedoes wildly inaccurate. Now, when you look at the blip on screen, what do you see? You see a blip where (unbeknownst to you) no blip should be. However, you reasoned that there is a submarine where there actually wasn't. "But wait! Then, what did we hit?!" you ask. Well, in some strange twist of fate, the enemy submarine just happened to appear in the exact spot the faulty sonar told you it would be, and therefore, you hit it. So, can you say that you had knowledge of the submarine's location?
This is what's referred to as a "Gettier" case, after Edmund Gettier. The idea is that you can have the "justified belief" mentioned last time and still not have real knowledge. You do not have knowledge because your justified belief did not reflect the real world circumstances. This is also called reasoning from a false premise. You can reason correctly based on false evidence but still have the outcome that resembles knowledge.
So, when considering what you know and how you know it, take a step back and consider your sources.
Knowledge 101
It's commonly held in philosophy, as in life, that we cannot truly know something unless it's backed up by some sort of evidence. In philosophy, there is a simple formula used to describe this correlation. It says that knowledge = belief + truth. To put that into words: in order to have knowledge, one must have a justified true belief. That is, a belief backed by evidence which is found in the real world.
It's simple enough if you think about it. Picture yourself right now, sitting at your computer reading words on the screen. If this is what you believe you are actually doing at the moment, then congratulations! You are a foundationalist.
Foundationalists believe that there are certain things that we can know for sure. They call these "basic beliefs". What those basic beliefs are is relative to the foundationalist. What is important is that she believes there is no need to investigate or question beyond a certain point (in this case, that the chair, computer, and words all exist definitely outside of your mind).
Most would say that you are perfectly justified in believing that you are, in fact, sitting in front of your computer and reading a blog. However, let's say that you are the inquisitive type. Since you've read this far, I think that's a safe assumption. You may find it hard to simply believe in the world around you. After all, maybe the Matrix has you and you are, instead, acting as a AA battery for some enormous remote control somewhere. This is sometimes called the "brain in the vat". You exist as a brain preserved in a jar in some scientist's lab and you are being sent sensations that make you feel as thought you are in a chair in front of your computer. You can't tell the difference between real sensation and fake. This seems like a silly thought, right? Can you prove it's not the case? I'll bet you can't. No one can. So, how do we move forward? If you're like me, you won't like the answer.
Let's say, for the sake of argument, that we don't hold to foundationalism. We don't believe that sensation of the external world is enough. We would need justification for these sensations. But then we would need justification for that justification. This easily leads down a slippery slope of beliefs justifying beliefs justifying beliefs, endlessly. One way to avoid this is what's called Coherentism. They believe that, to avoid the bottomless hole of belief, they construct a web of supporting beliefs in order to stay afloat.
So, how do Foundationalism and Coherentism fit into the picture of how we can have knowledge? They are two examples that help us justify the existence of the world around us. Remember, knowledge comes from justified true belief. We can believe in anything we want: God, Santa, the G-spot, a fulfilling, satisfying job requiring no training that allows you to work from home and pays $100,000 a year. However, without truthful, real world justification, these will remain (philosophically) unjustified beliefs, or more coloquially: fantasies.
Congratulations! You are now studying Epistemology!
It's simple enough if you think about it. Picture yourself right now, sitting at your computer reading words on the screen. If this is what you believe you are actually doing at the moment, then congratulations! You are a foundationalist.
Foundationalists believe that there are certain things that we can know for sure. They call these "basic beliefs". What those basic beliefs are is relative to the foundationalist. What is important is that she believes there is no need to investigate or question beyond a certain point (in this case, that the chair, computer, and words all exist definitely outside of your mind).
Most would say that you are perfectly justified in believing that you are, in fact, sitting in front of your computer and reading a blog. However, let's say that you are the inquisitive type. Since you've read this far, I think that's a safe assumption. You may find it hard to simply believe in the world around you. After all, maybe the Matrix has you and you are, instead, acting as a AA battery for some enormous remote control somewhere. This is sometimes called the "brain in the vat". You exist as a brain preserved in a jar in some scientist's lab and you are being sent sensations that make you feel as thought you are in a chair in front of your computer. You can't tell the difference between real sensation and fake. This seems like a silly thought, right? Can you prove it's not the case? I'll bet you can't. No one can. So, how do we move forward? If you're like me, you won't like the answer.
Let's say, for the sake of argument, that we don't hold to foundationalism. We don't believe that sensation of the external world is enough. We would need justification for these sensations. But then we would need justification for that justification. This easily leads down a slippery slope of beliefs justifying beliefs justifying beliefs, endlessly. One way to avoid this is what's called Coherentism. They believe that, to avoid the bottomless hole of belief, they construct a web of supporting beliefs in order to stay afloat.
So, how do Foundationalism and Coherentism fit into the picture of how we can have knowledge? They are two examples that help us justify the existence of the world around us. Remember, knowledge comes from justified true belief. We can believe in anything we want: God, Santa, the G-spot, a fulfilling, satisfying job requiring no training that allows you to work from home and pays $100,000 a year. However, without truthful, real world justification, these will remain (philosophically) unjustified beliefs, or more coloquially: fantasies.
Congratulations! You are now studying Epistemology!
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