Tag: cognitive science

The False-Dilemma of the Nature vs. Nurture Debate

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

Before I begin, allow me to explain what I mean by false dilemma. A false dilemma is an error in reasoning whereby one falsely assumes that the truth of a matter is limited to one of two (or a select few) explanations. For example, the American presidential election. For another example, have you ever been stumped by a question on multiple choice test because you saw more than one possible correct answer (or no correct answers all)? — perhaps you got frustrated because you felt that the test was unfairly trying to trick you? Well, you were probably right. This may have been an instance of your ability to recognize the false dilemma fallacy. Sometimes there are indeed any number of correct answers given any number of circumstances. There is often simply not enough information provided in the question for one choice to clearly stick out as correct. This might lead you to question the test in a broader sense. What is the purpose of this (presidential election, or) test? What is it trying to measure or prove? Without getting into that answer in too much detail (as this is not a post about the philosophical state of academic testing), I can say such tests aren’t really concerned with truth and meaning as they are about the specific program they support. That program may or may not have the best interests of the people in mind, and it may or may not be directly governed by the amount of money it can produce in a relatively short period of time. Anyway, that’s another discussion.

In a previous post entitled The Slate, the Chalk, and the Eraser, I compared a child’s mind to a slate, and I argued that as long as we write on it with chalk by teaching him how to think (rather than a permanent marker/what to think), then he will be able to erase those markings to make way for better and more situation-relevant ones in the future, once he develops the ability to make conscious judgments. This is an example that you may have heard before, and it can be useful, but by some interpretations, it may seem to rest on a false presupposition. Such an interpretation may raise the “nature-nurture” question that is so common in circles of science and philosophy. One might argue that if a child’s mind is truly analogous to a slate in the way I have put forth, then I should commit myself to the “nurture” side of that debate. That was not my intention. In fact, that debate, in its most common form, presents a false dilemma, so I can only commit to both or neither side depending on what is meant by ‘nature’ and ‘nurture’. The conventional definitions of these terms are limited in that they create a spectrum on which to make truth-value judgments about objects, experiences, phenomena, etc. We commit to one end of the spectrum or the other, and we take that position as true and the other as illusory. This is similar to the subject-object distinction I described in an earlier post. Perhaps comically, even the most radical (and supposedly-yet-not-so-contrary) ends of scientific and religious belief systems sometimes agree one which side to commit to, albeit for different reasons. That particular conflict, however, is usually caused by a semantic problem. The terms ‘nature’ and ‘nurture’ obviously mean very different things for radical mechanistic scientists and evangelical Christians.

Please keep in mind throughout that I am not criticizing science or religion in general, so I am not out to offend anyone. I am merely criticizing radical misinterpretations of each. Consequently, if you’re an idiot, you will probably misinterpret and get offended by this post as well.

Taking this description a step further, false dilemma can be committed to any number of degrees. The degree to which it is committed is determined by at least two factors: the number of possible options one is considering and the level of complexity at which one is analyzing the problem. Any matter we might deal with can be organized conceptually into a pyramid hierarchy where the theoretical categorical ideal is at the top, and the further one goes down the pyramid, the more manageable but trivial the matters become. As a rule of thumb, the fewest options (one or two) and the lowest level of analysis (bottom of the pyramid) should give rise to the highest probability of a logical error because the bottom level of analysis has the highest number of factors to consider, and those factors culminate up the pyramid toward the categorical ideal. Fortunately, committing an error at the lowest levels of analysis usually involves a harmless and easily-correctable confusion of facts. Committing the error at higher levels of analysis are more ontological in nature (as the categorical ideals are per se) and can have catastrophic consequences. All sciences and religions structure their methods and beliefs into such pyramid hierarchies, as do we individually. They start with a categorical ideal as their assumption (e.g. materialism for some science; the existence of God for some religion), and they work down from there. However, neither religion nor science are meant to be top-down processes like philosophy (which is likely the only top-down discipline that exists). They’re meant to be bottom-up processes. For science, everything starts with the data, and the more data that is compiled and organized, the more likely we are able to draw conclusions and make those conclusions useful (in order to help people, one would hope). For religion, everything starts with the individual. Live a moral and just life, act kindly toward others, and you will be rewarded through fulfillment (heaven for western religions, self-actualization for eastern religions). These can both be good things (and even reconcilable) if we go about them in the right way. What are the consequences, however, if we go about them radically (which is to say blindly)? In short, for radical belief in a self-righteous God, it is war, and therefore the loss of potentially millions of lives. In short, for radical materialism, it is corruption in politics, education, and the pharmaceutical industry, the elimination of health and economic equality, and the potential downfall of western civilization as we know it. That’s another discussion, though.

For the nature-nurture debate, the false dilemma is the consequence of (but is not limited to) confusion about what constitutes nature and nurture to begin with, and even most people who subscribe to the very same schools of thought have very different definitions of each. First, in the conventional form of this debate, what do people mean by ‘nature’? Biology, as far as I can tell, and nothing more. We each inherit an innate “code” of programmed genetic traits passed down from our parents, and they from theirs, and so on. This code determines our physiology and governs our behavior and interaction with the outside world. Our actions are reactive and governed by our brain-computer, and free will is consequently an illusion. What is meant by ‘nurture’ on the other hand? Our experienced environment, and nothing more. Regardless of our chemical makeup, how we are raised will determine our future. There is no variation in genetics that could make once person significantly different from another if raised in identical fashion by the same parents, in the same time and place. We have no control over the objective environment we experience, so free will still seems to be illusory.

These positions seem equally shortsighted, and therefore, this problem transcends semantics. Neither accounts for the gray in the matter — that reality, whatever that is, does not follow rules such as definitions and mathematical principles. These are conceptions of our own collectively-subjective realities which make it easier for us to explain phenomena which are otherwise unfathomable. On this note, we could potentially  consider both nature and nurture phenomenal. That is an objective point on the matter. The first subjective problem is that both positions imply that we don’t have free will. Sure, there are unconscious habits of ancient origins that drive our conscious behavior (e.g. consumption, survival, and reproduction), but there other more complex structures that these positions don’t account for (e.g. hierarchical structures of dominance, beliefs, and abstract behavior such as artistic production), and those are infinitely variable from person to person and from group to group. This comes back to the point I just made about phenomenal reality and the conceptions we follow in order to explain them as if they are somehow out there in the objective world that we are not part of.

Not to mention, we all take differently to the idea that free will might not exist. Religious people are often deeply offended by this idea whereas many scientists (theoretical physicists in particular) claim to be humbled by it. Both reactions, I would argue, are disgustingly self-righteous and are the direct consequence, not of truly understanding the concept of free will per se, but of whether or not free will simply fits into his or her preconstructed hierarchical structure of beliefs. One should see clearly, on that note, why a materialist must reject free will on principle alone, and a radical christian must accept it on principle alone. Regardless of the prospect that the religious person has a right to be offended in this case, and that it is contradictory of the scientist to commit to a subjective ontological opinion when that very opinion does not permit one to have an opinion to begin with (nor can it be supported with any sufficient amount of “scientific” evidence whatsoever), the point here transcends the matter of free will itself: that rejecting or accepting anything on principle alone is absurd. This calls into question matters of collective ideological influence. There is power in numbers, and that power is used for evil every bit as often as it is used for good. When individuals, however, break free from those ideologies, they realize how foolish it is to be sheep and to believe in anything to the extent that it harms anyone in any way (physiologically, financially, emotionally, etc.). The scary part about this is that literally any program might trap us in this way (ideologically), and blind us from the potentially-innate moral principles that underlie many of our actions. On that note, we are all collectively very much the same when we subscribe to a program, and we are all part of some program. We are individually very different, however, because we each have the potential to arrive at this realization through unique means. We each have a psychological structure that makes up our personality. It is undeniably innate to an extent, yet only partially biological. This reveals the immeasurable value in developing the one’s intrapersonal intelligence through introspection and careful evaluation of one’s own thoughts, feelings, perceptions, and desires.

Furthermore, conventional nature-nurture positions are polarities on a spectrum that doesn’t really exist. If we had clearer definitions of each, perhaps the debate would not present a false dilemma. We should reconstruct those definitions to be inclusive of phenomena — think of these terms as categories for ranges of processes rather than singular processes themselves. If we think of these terms as being on a spectrum, we are led to ask the impossible question of where the boundary is between them. If we think of them as categories, we are forced to embrace the reality that most, if not all, processes can fall into either category given a certain set of circumstances, and thus, those categories become virtually indistinguishable. E.g. in the case of inherited skills: practice makes perfect, yet natural talent seems so strongly to exist. If the truth-value-based spectrum between nature and nurture were a real thing, then neither position would be able to account for both nurtured ability and natural talent; it would simply be either/or. This is a consequence of the false dilemma. It leads us to believe that this gray matter is black and white. If we one is decent at learning anything, he/she knows that there is only gray in everything.

But is there? I hope I have explained to some conceivable extent why scientific and metaphysical matters should not be structured into a polar truth-spectrum, and why any attempt to do so would likely present a false dilemma. However, it seems more reasonable to apply spectrum structures to value theory matters such as aesthetics, ethics, and even other personal motivators such as love. This, I will explain further in a later post.

 

Who Has Midlife Crises and Why

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

Psychologist Carl Jung spoke of a process called ‘individuation’ whereby one gains an elevated degree of self-awareness and is therefore able to take crucial steps toward cultivating his ideal personality (i.e. ‘self actualization’ in Maslownian terms). In layman’s terms, this process is called a ‘midlife crisis’. My proposal is that this is a period of growth that everyone experiences, and the sooner it happens, the easier it is to overcome.

According to social convention and many professional circles of psychology, a midlife crisis is considered a bad thing. For example, a psychiatrist named Sue may claim to have seen this instance many times before. Sue describes it empirically as stress at work and in the family that has accumulated over time, and then it was suddenly unleashed in different forms. This places the blame on the individual for not communicating his inner thoughts and feelings as they arose, so Sue will offer her therapy services to fix the problem by teaching better communication.

A neurotherapist named Ben might also claim to have seen this many times before, but he will take a more materialist approach. Ben will confine the problem to the brain by assuming that something simply went wrong with his neural functioning, and that the matter is beyond his control. He might suggest that the only solution is to undergo neurotherapy in his clinic to realign normal neural pathways in the frontal lobe of the brain.

Both the Sue and Ben, as well as most people in general, see this crisis as a problem that needs to be fixed, and that the only way to do that is via the specific methods in which they have been trained. “I understand. Let me handle it. You can trust me.” is what they will tell their potential patient. Given their wall of shiny degrees in there cozy, inviting office, it is difficult to turn down their offer no matter the cost, as long as they can convince you that you need it.

More likely than not, both Sue and Ben are acting in their own self interests first. They are business people as well as medical professionals. Indeed, the term ‘crisis’ itself carries a derogatory tone, and the professionals have learned to capitalize on that. Their outward warmth, their technical language, their comfortable offices, their alleged understanding the situation, etc. are tactics that they use to keep their business running. That is not to say that their practices are completely useless, but rather, that either service will likely have more or less the same effect for the very same condition because neither comes close to attacking the root of the issue. In fact, they unknowingly focus on fixing the same exact thing (outward communication of inward feelings) since language expressions are actually channeled through the frontal lobe of the brain!

Meet my friend Jay. Jay is 38 years old, and he is an officer in the military. To this point, Jay has led a respectable life of service and duty. He is a devout Christian, goes to church every Sunday, and does community service with his church. He worked hard in high school and in Boy Scouts; he graduated and became an Eagle Scout; he went to college, worked hard, graduated, joined the military as a lieutenant, worked hard, got married, worked hard, had two kids, and then he continued to work hard to maintain that for the years following. Jay is a doer: Make a decision, work hard at it, and you will lead a successful life.

Jay never really questioned the position he was in, and things seemed to be going great, but then, seemingly out of nowhere, he began to have what is commonly known as a midlife crisis. He became a bit depressed and self-conflicted. His temper shortened, and he frequently had emotional outbursts at his wife and kids. With some reluctance, he finally agreed to grant his wife’s request and seek help. He began going to Sue, the psychiatrist, both alone and with his wife. Things seemed to improve for one or two days following each session, but then he would revert back to his ordinary behavior. Sue’s methods weren’t really working for Jay. He got impatient and started to believe that the process was being prolonged, and that he was spending more money than he needed to.

Jay began to seek other forms of help, and then he discovered Ben’s neurotherapy practice. Upon first meeting Ben, he felt a bit more confident moving forward. Ben explained, using much technical jargon, how important the brain is in processing information and making decisions. Though the claim that the brain is important is true, indeed it is necessary, he went on to convince Jay further that his methods were “more scientific” than traditional therapy because they are “backed by modern neuroscientific research”. Jay became convinced that neurotherapy was the answer, and he began treatment. After a few months, however, as Jay’s optimism wore off, so did his patience; his behavior took the same turn that it did before and after psychiatric therapy. He began to feel misled into thinking that these therapists were offering a sure-fire, algorithmic solution that was actually, in some sense, a scam. It turns out that he was right.

The absolute root of a “crisis” is unknown to Sue and Ben because it is, in the conventional sense, unknowable. A crucial part of it deals with knowledge that does not likely have its foundations in the material world, nor is it solvable by simply making a few practical, sure-fire adjustments in one’s everyday life. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that most people like Jay have so much trouble wrapping their minds around something that is different in nature from their materialism-based work and education and their practical, habit-based personal lives, especially when the people who they put their trust and money in are misleading them. It is difficult for them to realize that there is more to themselves than their brains, bodies, and the feedback they gather from the external social and material world. This was exactly Jay’s predicament. He wanted to put his trust into a system to manage his life from the outside-in, but nothing was working. He was forced to turn inward and deal with it himself.

There is a continuous process of personality development in everyone, and without its sufficient maturation, one simply cannot optimally handle the stresses of life. Understanding a midlife crisis, or any crisis for that matter, and taking steps to solve it is a personal journey. It requires one to discover, embrace, and cultivate the auxiliary side of the personality in conjunction with the continuing development of the dominant side. What I am alluding to is certainly not to have solved this puzzle for everyone, necessarily, but rather that it is each person’s job to solve their own puzzle for themselves. There is indeed a highly-effective model one can keep in mind to better understand the self and its place in the world: the cognitive functions as described by Carl Jung.

Immediately, one might question this method. Good. You should, but don’t question it without knowing anything about it, or at least in a way that presupposes bias. It is a continuously developing theory outside of institutional psychology. The reason for this is simply that it does not seem to fit the existing ideology of institutional science on a broader scale: materialism – all reality in the universe is founded on and comprised of quantifiable matter and energy. I have explained in several previous posts, just as well as several professional scientists and philosophers have explained in recent years, why science must move past the materialist worldview in order to progress, no matter the cost. That is not up for debate, so I will prevent any further discussion on the matter by saying this: To dismiss Jungian psychology on the basis of their being “no evidence” for it presupposes that the only evidence is the type that materialism relies on. This is circular reasoning. There in fact has been no materialist attempt to disprove it to begin with. In other words, to stick to such an unsupported principle is to assume it is “guilty until proven innocent”, as in wrong-until-proven-by-materialism. The premise for my proposal here is about people. All people are unique, but there are baseline psychological tendencies by which we operate. This is, as we should all agree, indeed obvious upon any amount of close observation of one’s social environment. That, I will submit, is in itself a form of evidence worthy of a discussion. Having said that…

Each person’s dominant cognitive function, according to Jung, is either introverted or extroverted, and either a mode of judgment or perception. There are two ways of making judgments (thinking and feeling) and two modes of perception (sensing and intuiting). If one’s dominant function is inwardly perceptive, say, introverted intuiting (Ni), then his auxiliary (secondary) function will be an outward mode of judgment, either extroverted thinking or feeling (Te/Fe), to balance out the dominant function.

Of course, everyone necessarily has the capacity to both perceive and make judgments, to extrovert output and introvert input, to think and feel, to sense and intuit; we otherwise would not be able to survive in any social or professional setting. We all do all of those things to varying degrees, indeed. One of those functions, however, is naturally dominant. It is our own personal “standard operating procedure” under normal conditions. When we are confronted with a crisis, we are forced to operate with more depth; i.e. we must work harder do deal with the death of a loved-one than to decide what to wear to go to church, obviously. This does not mean we abide by our SOP more closely than usual. In fact, it implies the opposite: that we must be more flexible about our dominant function. We need balance between our most dominant modes of perception and judgment in order optimally deal with stressful situations. The auxiliary function is what we all struggle with cultivating at some point in our young adulthood to middle-aged lives. It is the one that is more repressed, but it is necessary to use in support of our dominant function if we are to deal with crises healthily.

Whether one is introverted or extroverted in general depends on whether his dominant function is introverted or extroverted. An introvert will likely develop his extroverted auxiliary function earlier in life than an extrovert will develop his introverted auxiliary function because, especially in extroverted-dominated western societies like the United States, functioning in an extroverted fashion is forced upon introverts. Extroverts more easily fit in right from the start, but they have personal crises later in life.

Jay, for example, is Te (extroverted thinking) dominant, which means he is an extrovert with left-brained thinking tendencies. He is outgoing, decisive, and abides by cold, hard, logical systems (e.g. mathematics, law, protocol, etc.) to make judgments about reality. This is very useful in his military environment which values this type of rule-based reasoning very highly. He has a wide circle of social and professional connections and makes a good living. From the outside-looking-in, he is viewed as a success by his peers; the American dream is very Te-focused, and Te-dominants (and Fe) are the most likely to buy into it. However, on a more personal level, as he is learning in his midlife, he is only outwardly, not inwardly, organized. An introverted thinking-dominant (Ti) personality, by contrast, will have a well-structured, internal set of logical rules and principles, but to other people, he may seem outwardly messy and disorganized because he dismisses conventional rules.

For his entire life to this point, Jay has identified himself based on the rules that he followed (by his commanding officer at work, by the Bible in his moral decisions, and by his wife at home). He lived the first half of his life constantly focused on planning for the future and managing himself in an outward fashion. He was accustomed to getting things done – acting now and thinking later. Now that things have settled down, there is no more planning to be done. What is he to do?

The answer is: Don’t do anything. Think. Process. Reflect. Jay’s most obvious problem is that he was not able to turn inward and think independently, apart from the rules set before him. He had been so busy living up to standards external to himself, he had never even considered himself to be a conscious, independent, introspective being. In fact, he was afraid to because he naively associated introspection with feelings, and feelings with weakness. That, after all, is the popular opinion in American culture.

Jay’s midlife crisis is common among all left-brained judging (Te or Fe dominant) personalities, who encompass about half of the American population according to psychologist David Keirsey who was a leader in modernizing Jung’s principles in the 70s and 80s. This process manifests itself in different ways and at different times.

First thing’s first: we need to change our terminology. This crisis is not really a “crisis” at all, in fact; it is a period of growth whereby the extrovert discovers the introverted side of his or her personality, or the introvert attempts to align his internal rules with outer reality. Jay’s dominant function, as I have mentioned, is called extroverted thinking. It is a way of making judgments: being quickly decisive and taking impartial action based on established rules. What he lacks is a cultivated ability to inwardly process the information that he is acting on. That function is a mode of perception. Jay’s perceiving function, once cultivated, will act as the support for his decision-making, and will improve that process to a huge degree. The perceiving function specific for Jay is called introverted sensing (Si). This function collects data based on personal experience, traditions, and principles for the sake of themselves. His personality suits the military and other managerial positions perfectly. When his auxiliary Si is underdeveloped, he follows the rules and doesn’t question them, while almost entirely neglecting his own interests.

What it means for Jay to develop his auxiliary Si function is to improve the way he collects and interprets data and flexibly adapts his existing principles to the constantly-changing environment. This is an internal process. It will improve the way he perceives himself in relation to the data as well as the way he perceives the data itself. He will use this introverted Si perception in conjunction with his dominant Te judgment to make well-rounded decisions.

I used Jay as an example because he possesses the most common type of Jungian personality construction among men in the United States (ESTJ according to Myers-Briggs). The most common type for females (ESFJ) is very similar (Fe/Si dominant/auxiliary instead of Te/Si). If you don’t relate to Jay or his Fe counterpart, that is fine. There are 14 other forms of cognitive functioning, according to Jung. And that is not to take anything away from the individuals within each of those categories. As with anything, there is an immeasurably wider variety of uniqueness among individuals within each group than there are generalized differences among the groups themselves. Having said that, Jungian cognitive typology is not more than a guideline, albeit a very effective one, to keep in mind as one deals with the struggles of life. At the same time, however, don’t blame anyone other than yourself if you reject the system out of principle alone amid a personal crisis.

Cheers!

Current Methods of Usage – Language as a Collective Social Skill

Britton William Frost1 Comment

Language has developed as a collective social skill to the extent that society needs to use it to function. Different dialects develop in different regions out of the necessities that those regions are subjected to. Languages spoken by small bands in the rural Amazon are structurally simple compared to English, which is spoken in most of the developed world. Amazonian lifestyles are also structurally more simple in contrast to the complicated (but certainly no better) lifestyles of the developed west. This makes sense. Their language is suited to their lifestyle. Their lifestyle has one main focus: survival.

Let us suppose one were to raise himself in the wild, isolated from all other humans, he would not be able to create a complex private language because he would not need to. He may develop some way of communicating with nature around him (e.g. mimicking bird calls to attract birds so he can catch them for food), but his language would be nothing like the one we understand. He would need no complex grammatical rules or extensive vocabulary to survive in the wild because there is nothing in the wild either that would need to reciprocate understanding of such a language.

Communication as we know it could never occur. It would not need to. However, the isolated Amazonian would be communicating with the birds, in a sense, if they respond in the way he hopes so that he can catch them to eat. (Whether or not this is considered language can be debated, but if the goal of language is to communicate, then language and communication should be equivalent.) He is using his bird call as a tool to attract a bird just as I am using English to convey an idea to you now. Both he and I can be successful or not in achieving our respective goals. Whether or not we are successful can be due to any number of circumstances. In fact, the Amazonian could very possibly communicate with the bird more effectively than I am now communicating with you. Therefore, he (and the bird) would be more proficient in his language than I am in mine. In fact, I would hope that to be the case so I can further support the claims of this essay!

To “Know” a Language is NOT to have “Knowledge”

We have taken for granted that language is knowledge when it should, in fact, be thought of as a skill. We cannot imagine a world in which we have no knowledge of language, but that is because we have developed the skill of using it so well. We are so good – too good – at using this skill. We can lie to and manipulate others to achieve our ends. In fact, this is a tactic in capitalistic business rhetoric. The main focus of such business is not productivity, conversation, or healthy relationships. The focus can be reduced to one entirely superficial entity: money. Everyone wants as much as they can get, so they employ tactics of rhetoric (i.e. linguistic manipulation) in order to achieve that goal. It is only the loudest and most cunning who succeeds at this, not the smartest, most thoughtful, or most honest.

In the Amazon, on the other hand, the goal is survival. There is no place for wasting resources or time. Nor is there a place for the use of expressions of language which are irrelevant to the tasks at hand. The precise reason that there is so much excess language in English and other western languages is because our lifestyles are not as directly oriented toward primal survival. Our irrelevant distractions have given rise to irrelevant expressions of language.

Language, more broadly, is something that we take for granted. It is difficult, sometimes almost impossible, to communicate complex ideas without language, so we are misled to believe that such ideas cannot even exist without our mastery of a complex language. This is not the case. Our experiences of the world, the patterns we draw from those experiences, and our creative, subjective manipulation of those patterns are what formulate our ideas. We use language to simply (and sometimes not so simply) express our understanding. So, in this sense, expression in general, not our mechanical ability to produce words, is the real evolutionary phenomenon of humans. Every bit as impressive and complex as our ability to express ourselves using written or oral language are our abilities to express ourselves using musical instruments, paintbrushes, sports equipment, hammers and nails, and our bodily movements in dance. Language is a tool, and like any tool, we can misuse it by lying, manipulating, and mistreating others, or, more preferably, we can use it honestly.

“Ideology and the Third Realm” – What is Philosophy?

Britton William Frost2 Comments

In Dr. Alva Noë’s book Varieties of Presence, many important aspects of perception are discussed. He makes a convincing case that we achieve contact with the world through skill-based action. Our understanding of a new experience is a collective recurrence, both conscious and unconscious, of past experiences. It is a dense work that deserves the attention of other contemporaries who concern themselves with matters in cognitive science and philosophy of mind. Perhaps I will do a full review of this book at a later date, but for now I would like to focus on a matter addressed in the final chapter entitled “Ideology and the Third Realm” which takes an important departure from the philosophy of consciousness and neuroscience.

What this chapter does is something that every philosopher should do periodically: broadly revisits the fundamental importance of philosophy as it relates to the context of his work. I will be a bit more general than that since I am not  “professional” philosopher. The role that philosophy plays in the world seems to constantly be changing. But is it? Perhaps it is only the popular understanding of what philosophy is that changes. I think that is, in part, the case, but it has more to do with the uses of philosophy. Some of those uses have remained constant since the beginning of recorded thought while others change by the minute. For this reason, it is impossible to pin down. But one need not pin it down. Philosophy exists to be used, and it is set of skills that will hopefully never become extinct. There is no dictionary definition that can sufficiently explain it, much less emphasize the field’s vital presence. I will give a general overview of the chapter but mainly share my thoughts about what philosophy is and why it is not only relevant, but necessary. Before I continue, I should define an important term which will be mentioned several times in this piece.

Q.E.D. (Latin) quod erat demonstrandum –  meaning “which had to be proven”

Many people, in and out of academia, naively think that philosophy deals with questions that warrant a Q.E.D. response. When you take a philosophy course, you often have to write at least one argumentative essay where you choose a position of a philosopher who you have read, you attempt to prove him wrong, and then you attempt to formulate a complete view of your own by supporting evidence. This way of “doing philosophy” is popular in undergraduate, base-level courses. It helps you to develop reasoning skills that can be applied anywhere. This is important, no doubt, but this is not where philosophy ends. Why? First, writing is not even necessary for “doing philosophy”. The only thing that is necessary, I would argue, is thinking. Thinking must be assisted by reasoning, but this is only the start.

This does not imply that we should identify the philosopher as one who locks himself up in his ivory tower and speculates of a deluded, idealized world. To philosophize well, one must also be able to communicate his ideas in some way, and that will involve language, whether spoken or written. This is one reason philosophy courses are difficult: one must already have a certain level of reading, writing, and speaking proficiency to succeed. The full title of the final chapter of Noë’s book is “Ideology and the Third Realm (Or, a Short Essay on Knowing How to Philosophize)”. Since language is such a crucial part of this issue, I will begin by taking a language-based example from that chapter:

‘The King’s carriage is drawn by four horses’ is a statement about what?

a) the carriage;  b) the horses;  c) the concept it asserts;  d) other

Immediately, one might think that the answer is ‘a) the carriage’. This seems completely logical, given how most of us understand language. ‘Carriage’ is the subject of the sentence, so any terms that follow should (theoretically) describe it. It is certainly not ‘b) the horses’ because that is the object receiving the action, and nor can the answer be ‘c) the concept it asserts’ because nine out of ten people in the room don’t know what the hell that means. Right? Good. It’s settled.

Gottlob Frege had other ideas. He thought that a statement about numbers is a statement about a concept. When we attempt to answer the question about the subject matter of the “king’s carriage” statement, we are speaking in conceptual terms. We are not using the statement to assert anything. So, the answer must be ‘c’. He gives more reasons for this, of course, and he makes us realize that there is a sense in which we become confused about what we mean when we say ‘The king’s carriage is drawn by four horses’. However, despite the piercing quality of Frege’s argument, we have a much stronger sense that we are unconvinced by his theory of language.

The problem with Frege’s claim, for most of us, seems to be that he had a preconception of the meaning of the statement ‘the king’s carriage is drawn by four horses’ before he was even asked the question. He had already established that any statement about a number, without exception, is a statement about a concept, so he was able to answer the question without thinking. The problem with our rejection of his claim is that we are doing exactly the same thing. We also answered without thinking. We held the preconception that every sentence is about its subject. This preconception is guided by the larger logical construction by which we understand language, and it is certainly no more correct than Frege’s view simply because nine out of ten people in the room agree that it is (that would be to commit ad populum). We take our theory of language for granted, and perhaps Frege takes his for granted too. There seems to be no Q.E.D. conclusion here. What we are all doing, if we become inflexible, if we stick to our answer to the question without sufficient evidence to support it, is committing what I call the ideological fallacy.

However, subscribing to ideologies is not always a fallacious thing. It is only when the ideology is applied in a dogmatic way that it becomes wrong. When an evangelical christian lives by Jesus’ principle, “love your enemies”, that can have very positive effects. It may minimize conflict in the person’s life. It may allow them to stand strong in the face of racial adversity. It may allow them to accept people more openly, and very often the favor will be returned. However, the favor is not always returned if the christian is careless and thoughtless. Despite his belief that he loves his enemies, participating in radical evangelical activism would invade on others and create more conflict, leaving his conception of “love” to be questioned. It takes Christianity out of context and misapplies it to the world in a negatively ideological way. There is nothing about the beliefs in themselves that are illogical, destructive, or even wrong. It is in how they are used will determine that. I will use another example. Evolutionary biology can study preserved skeletons of million-year-old homo erectus figures and learn about how we sapiens evolved three stages of evolution later. This could contribute to our understanding of how humans will continue to evolve (or devolve). However, evolutionary biology can only contribute a small piece to the puzzle of predicting the future of humankind. It needs influence from many other fields to even begin to solve any of its own problems. So, when Richard Dawkins uses the broad concept of evolution to attempt to disprove creationism in any one of its countless forms, he is taking his work out of context and applying it in a radical, dogmatic, negatively ideological way. There is nothing about evolutionary biology, as a field, that is wrong. It is a highly-useful method of inquiry. But there is still plenty we do not know about how humans have evolved. We generally just accept that they did with the minimal evidence that we have just as the evangelical accepts his own conception of loving his enemies based solely on Jesus’ teachings. In this case, both parties look equally silly.

Of course, the example above presents two extreme cases. Although we answer this “king’s carriage” question one way, Frege answers it in another, and we seem to have to agree to disagree, there is still a sense in which both sides think the issue is objective in nature and that it deserves further discussion. In order to have this discussion in a logical, respectful, open manner, we must become philosophers, and one may not need to go school to achieve this. Alva Noë wonders how we might categorize our dealing with the “king’s carriage” question. It is not in the realm of the material (e.g. biology), nor is it in the realm of belief (e.g. religion). It seems to be within some third realm. Noë begins to explain with this quote:

The point is not that Frege or we are entitled to be indifferent to what people say or would say in answer to such a questionnaire. The point is that whatever people say could be at most the beginning of our conversation, not its end; it would be the opportunity for philosophy, not the determination of the solution of a philosophical problem. (Noë, 173)

“at most…“, Noë says “(what other people say is) the beginning of our conversation… the opportunity for philosophy…” This is another reason philosophy is so difficult! At the very most, when our view stands in opposition to another, we may only have the opportunity to do philosophy. We rarely get there. When we do get there, two or more people are concerning themselves with the third realm of a problem. What is the third realm? It is the realm of possibilities with minimal influence from ideologies. It is abstractly objective yet, as I will explain later, not in the realm of matters Q.E.D.

Where is this third realm? Well, ‘where’ is the wrong question. Bertrand Russell once said of philosophy that it is “in the no-man’s land between science and religion” because it always seems to be under scrutiny from both sides. Perhaps, in some cases, this is correct. It can serve as a mediator between two extremes, but, on the surface, this only explains one of unlimited applications of philosophy.

Upon first reading or hearing Russell’s quote, one might be inclined to place philosophy in between science and religion because it deals with reason over belief (like science) and thought without quantifiable experimentation (like religion). This would be a shallow interpretation that lacks crucial insight. Russell was perhaps a bit too concise for the average interpreter. He did not mean, as I understand him, that philosophy is inside the space between science and religion. It has deeper implications which resonate with those of Noë (despite the fact that Russell was a logical positivist, and Noë is a phenomenologist, so they would probably have a duel for other reasons). Explaining philosophy has nothing to do with where we should fit it in relation to other fields. It has to do with how we can apply its skills, and in that way it is most unique. Those skills are skills of thought. Developing those skills first requires one to look inward, rid himself of bias, and then turn outward to consider all possibilities. This is still only the beginning. Once we achieve this skill of thought, what do we do with it? We continue to practice and improve it. How? The answer is simple, but the application seems, in some cases, impossible. We communicate.

We share our ideas with others who have, to some degree, developed the skill of clear thinking. Of course, communication, whether written, oral, or otherwise, is a practical skill in itself that will be developed naturally, mostly prior to but also simultaneously, alongside the skill of thinking. We tend to adapt our ability to communicate only to the situational extents that we need them, and that can be limiting. When doing philosophy, anyone can participate, but only to the extent that they can think clearly. Philosophy tests those limits, which is why both science and religion so often scrutinize it. Though they deal with subject matter that seems contradictory, (mechanistic) science and religion do have one general thing in common: dogmatic ideology. Philosophy, on the other hand, is perhaps the only field that dedicates the elimination of dogmatism as one of its primary goals.

Doing philosophy is not only about increasing the degree to which people can think, but about being open to different forms of thought as well. What is fortunate in this regard is that each person in the conversation, if one is to find himself in such a conversation, has probably achieved their skill of thought through different means. For example:

There may be one who developed his thinking through philosophy itself, who rigorously studied informal logic to learn how not to commit errors in reasoning. He also may be able to contribute history of thought to the conversation and explain why certain schools of thought are obsolete in academic philosophy. There might also be a more scientifically-minded person who, in a graduate school lab, performed the same experiment under the same conditions hundreds of times, but got variable results. He questioned why this was happening (if the laws of physics are supposed to be constant), so he turned his research to the inconsistencies and realized that uncertainty transcends mathematical equations. He is now able to think more broadly about his work. There might also be a Buddhist in the group who practices intensive meditation. He can turn off influence from his sensory world and walk on hot coals without getting burned, or he can submerge himself into freezing-cold water without catching hypothermia. He is able to clear his mind from all unnecessary matter. Each person achieves the same thing – to think clearly, skeptically, critically – through different means. They each learn from one another and gain a broad range of insights.

Also, and perhaps most importantly, each person in the conversation should be genuinely interested in learning new perspectives in order to improve their own points of view. There is a sense in which someone may have achieved access to the third realm of conversation to a lesser degree than the others, and at a deeper point in the discussion, he gets flustered and has to back out. This is perfectly fine as long as he does back out, at least until his temper cools (if he does not back out, he will disrupt the conversation). He has pushed his boundaries of clear thinking to a level that the others have not, and that can be a very constructive or destructive thing, depending on his mindset. But it is vital that all parties directly involved maintain self-preservation throughout the conversation. If there are any unsettled nerves, it is almost certain that at least one participant is not being genuine, but rather, is too outwardly focused and is perhaps ultimately trying too hard to prove himself right or the others wrong. Although they might seem to contribute insight to the conversation, they will inevitably expose themselves as operating from within an ideology, thereby rendering themselves a nuisance. Philosophy is no activity for the pretentious or egocentric, contrary to popular belief. In fact, the absolute contrary is the case.

Do any philosophical questions warrant a Q.E.D. response? (Does philosophy ever prove anything?)

No. In case this is not already clear, there are, in a sense, no “philosophical questions”. There are only philosophical approaches to questions. Approaching the third realm of a problem requires one to be, as stated earlier, abstractly objective (or perhaps objectively abstract). There are limits to how objective one can be, no doubt, but the aim of advancing thought is to learn more and more about the world and how those in it think, so we can improve on that, both individually and collectively. It exposes dogmatism and reveals the sheer grey-ness in any concrete matter. Need I give examples as to when this might be useful? I challenge anyone to give an example of when it is not, and thereby present an opportunity for doing philosophy! This is why philosophy is so widely-applicable.

To draw an analogy – toward the end of Noë’s final chapter, he mentions Immanuel Kant’s aesthetic view that the reality of one’s response to a work of art is based in feeling – it is not contingent on his ability to explain it. Similarly, Clive Bell described a “peculiar aesthetic emotion” that must (first) be present in something for it to be considered art. It is that feeling you get when you listen to a beautiful composition, watch a film that evokes tears, or look at Picasso’s Guernica after you have heard the gruesome story behind the painting. I had experienced this aesthetic emotion many times, but it was my former professor at the University of New Orleans, Rob Stufflebeam, who, whether he intended to or not, led me to realize that all of those experiences involved the same exact emotional response. Perhaps only for those who have experienced it, it is certainly something that need not, and often cannot be explained.

Likewise, a philosophical approach to a problem is, instead of an emotional experience as with art, at its very best, an all-encompassing intellectual experience. It is not a heated argument, nor is it even a controlled debate. It is a respectful, open-ended discussion about ideas between two or more people in an intimate setting. It raises the awareness of each involved to a broad level of skepticism that, perhaps very strangely, brings with it an aura of contentment. It is obviously not the same feeling one gets with the peculiar aesthetic emotion, but it is parallel in the sense that when you are part of it, you really know. That reality seems to transcend explanation.

Final Thoughts

Alva Noë has developed this idea about perception: “The world shows up for us, but not for free. We achieve access to it through skill-based action.” It is a combination of developing our conceptual and practical skills that allows us to understand the world and live in it. Achieving access to the third realm of a question, as I would consider it, is one of those countless skills. It comes more easily for some than for others. Just as one person might naturally have ideal physiological makeup for learning how to swim (lean, broad shoulders, webbed feet, etc.), another person’s brain might seem to be better wired for clear thinking. Everyone, to some degree, with the proper amount of training, can swim. Likewise, everyone can, with practice, think clearly. The more one practices by looking inward, ridding himself of bias, and working up the courage to subject himself to critique, the more he can contribute to the conversation in his own unique way. How much one wants to participate is solely up to him, but to not participate at all is to miss out on a hugely important (and my personal favorite) part of the human experience.