Debating philosophical or religious questions in the blogosphere can be awfully unproductive; it shows you why some of the same questions that vexed the ancients are still confounding us today. People with different fundamental assumptions live in inner worlds that are quite irreconcilable: words mean different things to different speakers, and often serve only to highlight these differences while doing nothing to bridge them. For a splendid example of all this, have a look at this protracted comment thread over at the Maverick Philosopher, which starts out as a post about recent atheistic critiques of religion.
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5 Comments
Yes Malcolm,
Very unproductive and very un-fun. That is why I commented the other day that as to others’ beliefs, “I care not a whit.”
On occasion I’ll try a simple declaratory statement, a short clarification as necessary-then go to the nearest source of Doonesbury.
Where I live, I even more rarely broach the subject, at least if I’m out of my vehicle and the motors not running. Well perhaps with the ones who as I said, “tolerate me.” However I’m always afraid the others will invite me to a barbeque.
JK
Unproductive indeed, at least as far as communication is concerned. One thing, though, that does set it apart from most online “debate”, is that at least it remained civil.
Malcolm,
I lack the eloquence and elegance of language to describe any inconsistencies that I might point out in one specific paragraph, dare I say one specific sentence? But for the most part, I agree but reserve the “questionable” right to disagree. We are all theorists. Very occasionally we are all examining theorists. Please, entertain me in this exercise.
I ask, “What comes to your mind when I say blue?”
When I ask the question-I have in mind, the translucent, sapphire, incandescent blue that the bow turbulence created as a vessel split the waters of Truk Lagoon. The bluest blue that I shall evermore be witness to. I have in mind a qualitative “blue.”
My subject answers, “Grandmother used to dye eggs this morning sky, cirrus streaked blue, tinged with foggy blues, that is the blue that comes to my mind.” Or, “My Granddaughter’s eyes.”
And then I place before my test subjects the familiar ROYGBIV strip, knowing that the blue I recalled the depths of, could not be qualitatively fathomed from, and ask, “On which part of this strip is nearest your concept of blue?”
Malcolm, I realize the importance of controls but the question to my subjects is inevitably qualitative. I, as the examiner, know that the eggs’ color tended more toward the green than the blue, the grandchilds’ eyes more to the indigo. Neither equated with the “blue” of Truk Lagoon.
Shall I then conclude that no one quantitatively knows blue? Except for myself? I think not, color is a thing. Sound which you know better (admittededly) is another of those subjective things. I hope you’ve had the pleasure of thinking, “Damn, I’ve got an Abraxas here!”
However, neither of us have had the pleasure of meeting one another through sitting in the green room of either “Oprah” nor via the auspices of “Gypsy” -admittedly I have seen your name- thus shall either reach definite conclusions?
JK
JK, you are quite right. Leaving aside persistent questions about qualia (and whether my blue quale – even that of the official ROYGBIV blue – is like yours), we live, each of us, in a unique inner world. Mine might be quite like someone else’s — I probably have a good deal in common with other folks in my cultural and intellectual neighborhood — but the inner world of, say, a Sentinalese Islander, or a Tuareg nomad, or a home-schooled Baptist, is probably, apart from a common cognitive architecture that all humans share, a very different place indeed.
Words, as they say, are like a “finger pointing at the moon”. A philosophical comment-thread like the one linked to here is just fingers in collision, all pointing in different directions.
Did you fight in the Pacific, JK?
Not in any “official” sense Malcolm. However I did once get into a rather protracted and quite violent argument with a hooker on an island which shall remain unnamed. I was not awarded any medals for that incident (although I did get a few) but I did get an injection.
My “semi-official” encounters with with battle sorta stuff occurred in 70′s, 80′s Middle Eastern areas which too, shall remain unnamed. Don’t bother, it’s immune from any FOI request for the next 20 years.
JK