At Bartleby.com you can read Michael Faraday's great classic of scientific popularization, The Chemical History of a Candle. Faraday (1791-1867) is one of my favorite scientists in history. Raised working class, he became interested in science when, apprenticed to a bookbinder, he read books on science. At one point he was given tickets to a set of lectures by Humphrey Davy; he took notes and a year later presented them to Davy, asking if Davy could give him a position assisting him with scientific research. No position was available at the time, but by chance a position did open up a few months later. Davy, remembering Faraday, interviewed him again, and thus, by sheer fluke, the Great Experimentalist entered his scientific career as a Chemical Assistant at the Royal Institute. In 1821 he discovered electromagnetic rotation; in 1823 he liquefied chlorine; in 1825 he discovered benzene. In 1826 he began a long and eminently successful career in lecturing to the public on scientific issues. In 1831 he discovered electromagnatic induction. And so it went.
One of Faraday's continual problems working in Victorian England was his relatively limited education -- while certainly not stupid or ignorant in any sense of the term, he lacked a classical background and had only a very limited mathematical education, both of which made it difficult for him to convey his theoretical ideas to his peers; which is perhaps one reason why, despite his theoretical brilliance, he had a much greater reputation for experiment than theory. However, he was able to compensate somewhat for his lack of a classical background by his correspondence with friends, like William Whewell (who, for instance, suggested the terms 'anode' and 'cathode' rather than Faraday's original 'eastode' and 'westode), and the mathematical formulations would come later with Thomson (later called Lord Kelvin) and Maxwell.
Like many of the great Victorian scientists, he had a very high ideal of the ethical character of a good scientist; it is even said that this was a factor in his attempt to enter a career in science: scientific research was a higher ethical calling than the trades, and one that was more conducive to integrity. (He declined the presidency of the Royal Society for similar reasons: he told Tyndall, one of his friends, that he must remain "plain Michael Faraday" to the last, and did not think he could preserve his intellectual integrity in such a position.) It's hard to find any reason not to like him.
Here you can read a reprinted Everyman edition of selections from his Experimental Researches.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
I am indeed a tricky one...
You scored as Severus Snape. Well you're a tricky one aren't you? Nobody quite has you figured out and you'd probably prefer it stayed that way. That said, you are a formidable force by anyone's reckoning, but there is certainly more to you than a frosty exterior and a bitter temper.
Severus Snape | 85% | ||
Ron Weasley | 70% | ||
Remus Lupin | 70% | ||
Albus Dumbledore | 60% | ||
Hermione Granger | 60% | ||
Sirius Black | 60% | ||
Lord Voldemort | 55% | ||
Draco Malfoy | 55% | ||
Harry Potter | 50% | ||
Ginny Weasley | 50% |
Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...?
created with QuizFarm.com
...but it would take quite a few whiskey shots before anyone would ever confuse me with Severus Snape.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Providential and Written Constitutions
Orestes Brownson, in his work The American Republic (1866), invented a clever argument that, in discussing constitutional matters, we should clearly distinguish two constitutions: the providential constitution of the people, and the fundamental law or written constitution. Since we have a tendency to think of a constitution in both these terms, our failure to distinguish the two leads to all sorts of sophistry. Here's Brownson's argument:
The people must be, in some way, constituted a nation for the fundamental law to be interpreted and applied; a law needs such a background for both interpretation and application. As Brownson says, "Nations have originated in various ways, but history records no instance of a nation existing as an inorganic mass organizing itself into a political community. Every nation, at its first appearance above the horizon, is found to have an organization of some sort." Thus he distinguished between the written and the unwritten constitutions:
Brownson argues that the United States has a peculiar providential constitution, one that is extremely difficult to characterize and largely misunderstood. The United States, for as long as it could be said to have any constitution at all, has simply been the United States: a union of states in which the union is not derived from the states nor the states from the union. Even when the states declared independence and claimed themselves each to have state sovereignty, they did so as a union. Brownson attributes the failure of the Articles of Confederation to its failure to fit this unwritten constitution, and the success of the newer Constitution to its much better fit to the same. The American polity is so very odd because it has no sovereign people without states; no states without union; no union without states; and neither states nor union without the sovereign people. All three go together, and if you try to pry them apart, you end up with something that's not recognizably American. As he says:
Thus we have the American peculiarity: a sovereign nation organized into several sovereign states that participate in a sovereign union. Of course, there are governments structurally similar, in that they are federalist; but what we are talking about here is not the federalist structure of U.S. government, but the prior and more fundamental fact that makes it impossible for the U.S. to stand for any other sort of government, the fact that defeats any theory that tries to ignore it. (Brownson, of course, is reflecting on this matter in the aftermath of the Civil War, which he sees as yet another instance in which attempt to deviate from the unwritten constitution failed precisely because it was such a deviation.)
The constitution drawn up, ordained, and established by a nation for itself is a law--the organic or fundamental law, if you will, but a law, and is and must be the act of the sovereign power. That sovereign power must exist before it can act, and it cannot exist, if vested in the people or nation, without a constitution, or without some sort of political organization of the people or nation. There must, then, be for every state or nation a constitution anterior to the constitution which the nation gives itself, and from which the one it gives itself derives all its vitality and legal force.
The people must be, in some way, constituted a nation for the fundamental law to be interpreted and applied; a law needs such a background for both interpretation and application. As Brownson says, "Nations have originated in various ways, but history records no instance of a nation existing as an inorganic mass organizing itself into a political community. Every nation, at its first appearance above the horizon, is found to have an organization of some sort." Thus he distinguished between the written and the unwritten constitutions:
The written constitution is simply a law ordained by the nation or people instituting and organizing the government; the unwritten constitution is the real or actual constitution of the people as a state or sovereign community, and constituting them such or such a state. It is Providential, not made by the nation, but born with it. The written constitution is made and ordained by the sovereign power, and presupposes that power as already existing and constituted.
Brownson argues that the United States has a peculiar providential constitution, one that is extremely difficult to characterize and largely misunderstood. The United States, for as long as it could be said to have any constitution at all, has simply been the United States: a union of states in which the union is not derived from the states nor the states from the union. Even when the states declared independence and claimed themselves each to have state sovereignty, they did so as a union. Brownson attributes the failure of the Articles of Confederation to its failure to fit this unwritten constitution, and the success of the newer Constitution to its much better fit to the same. The American polity is so very odd because it has no sovereign people without states; no states without union; no union without states; and neither states nor union without the sovereign people. All three go together, and if you try to pry them apart, you end up with something that's not recognizably American. As he says:
This is not a theory of the constitution, but the constitutional fact itself. It is the simple historical fact that precedes the law and constitutes the law-making power. The people of the United States are one people, as has already been proved: they were one people, as far as a people at all, prior to independence, because under the same Common Law and subject to the same sovereign, and have been so since, for as united States they gained their independence and took their place among sovereign nations, and as united States they have possessed and still possess the government.
Thus we have the American peculiarity: a sovereign nation organized into several sovereign states that participate in a sovereign union. Of course, there are governments structurally similar, in that they are federalist; but what we are talking about here is not the federalist structure of U.S. government, but the prior and more fundamental fact that makes it impossible for the U.S. to stand for any other sort of government, the fact that defeats any theory that tries to ignore it. (Brownson, of course, is reflecting on this matter in the aftermath of the Civil War, which he sees as yet another instance in which attempt to deviate from the unwritten constitution failed precisely because it was such a deviation.)
Simon on Why All Human Beings Are Equal
Asserting the reality of a human nature, one and the same in all men, does not imply belief in any Platonic type. It is in the mind alone that human nature, or any nature, possesses a condition of positive unity. In the real the features which make up the universal human nature exist in the state of individuality, which means that human nature exists in James as identical with the individual reality of James. The same human nature exists in Philip in the state of individuality, which means that it exists in Philip as identified with the individual reality of Philip. (Yet James is not identical with Philip. As John of St. Thomas says, two things each of which is identical with the same third thing are not necessarily identical with each other if the third thing is virtually multiple: "But the universal nature is virtually multiple because it is communicable to several things; therefore, identity with it does not entail the identity of the individuals among themselves.") Inasmuch as it is the same human nature, made of the same intelligible features connected with one another in the same system of intelligibility, which exists in the real as identified with James and as identified with Philip, James and Philip are one in nature and are equal in an essential and fundamental sense, regardless of the inequality of their individual properties. From the very instant of their creation men are different and unequal in countless respects; yet it is highly proper that they should be described as created equal, for in each of them the same system of intelligible features supplies the individual with ability to exist.
Yves R. Simon, The Philosophy of Democratic Government, IV.1.
Yves R. Simon, The Philosophy of Democratic Government, IV.1.
Notables
* An essential instrument for undergraduates applying for graduate school: the rejection rejection letter (HT: Matthew Mullins).
* Early modern missionary David Brainerd shows by example how to deal with reproof and correction.
* A good paper on common misconceptions of natural law theory:
Kelsen and Aquinas on "the Natural-Law Doctrine" by Robert George
* Archives of the Newsletter of the American Psychological Association's Division 36 are available in PDF online.
* Does Sikh Gurbani suggest an afterlife (including the transmigration usually attributed to the Sikhs in the West)? Such a view is apparently not as well-founded as some in the West have been led to believe.
For some time now there has been a major tug-of-war going on in the field of Sikh Studies; it's a very difficult dispute for an outsider to navigate, but for a reasonably even-handed commentary on a major thread of the dispute, see here.
* In what circle of hell do hypocrites reside? Michael Gilleland has the answer.
* Early modern missionary David Brainerd shows by example how to deal with reproof and correction.
* A good paper on common misconceptions of natural law theory:
Kelsen and Aquinas on "the Natural-Law Doctrine" by Robert George
* Archives of the Newsletter of the American Psychological Association's Division 36 are available in PDF online.
* Does Sikh Gurbani suggest an afterlife (including the transmigration usually attributed to the Sikhs in the West)? Such a view is apparently not as well-founded as some in the West have been led to believe.
For some time now there has been a major tug-of-war going on in the field of Sikh Studies; it's a very difficult dispute for an outsider to navigate, but for a reasonably even-handed commentary on a major thread of the dispute, see here.
* In what circle of hell do hypocrites reside? Michael Gilleland has the answer.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Berkeley, Laws of Nature, and Occasionalism
It has been a while since I've said anything about this weblog's namesake, so I've decided to remedy that by presenting the following three passages from Berkeley's Siris, my favorite Berkeleyan work. Siris gives us a chance to see a side of Berkeley that is often neglected; it enables us to see the Berkeley who thought that Stoic and Platonic metaphysics, however speculative, were worth taking seriously, and were probably on to something. (This side peeps into his better known works, the Principles and the Three Dialogues, as well as into the also-neglected Alciphron, but is easily missed. It could hardly be missed in Siris, however, where it comes out in full, and somewhat overwhelming, array.) In a reversal from the usual usage on this site, my comments are in italics.
*****
1. The principles whereof a thing is compounded, the instrument used in its production, and the end for which it was intended, are all in vulgar use termed causes; though none of them be, strictly speaking, agent or efficient. There is not any proof that an extended corporeal or mechanical cause doth really and properly act; even motion itself being in truth a passion. Therefore, though we speak of this fiery substance as acting, yet it is to be understood only as a mean or instrument; which indeed is the case of all mechanical causes whatsoever. They are, nevertheless, sometimes termed agents and causes, although they are by nomeans active in a strict and proper signification. When therefore force, power, virtue,or action is mentioned as subsisting in an extended and corporeal or mechanical being, this is not to be taken in a true, genuine, and real, but only in a gross and popular sense, which sticks to appearances, and doth not analyze things to their first principles. In compilance with established language and the use of the world, we must employ the popular current phrase. But then in truth we ought to distinguish its meaning. It may suffice to have made this declaration once for all, in order to avoid mistakes. [Siris 155]
'Mechanical' here means roughly what we would call 'physical'. Berkeley's claim that motion is properly only a passion, something undergone, rather than a genuine action, is a common one in the period. The reference to 'this fiery substance' is a reference to what Berkeley has been discussing. Berkeley is much taken with the notion of a World Soul that is a 'pure aethereal fire'; and has been speculating (Siris is explicitly a speculative work, put forward not dogmatically but as food for thought) about its role in the functioning of the cosmos. This is part of the general drift of the work: from the properties of tar-water to the properties of mechanical causes to cosmic operations (the world soul) to minds to the divine mind to the Trinity. He has been treating the 'pure aethereal fire' (which he also calls 'light') as a cause, and is clarifying the sense in which he does not mean it.
2. The mind of man acts by an instrument necessarily. The το 'ηγεμονικον, or Mind presiding in the world, acts by an instrument freely. Without instrumental and second causes there could be no regular course of nature. And without a regular course, nature could never be understood; mankind must always be at a loss, not knowing what to expect, or how to govern themselves, or direct their actions for the obtaining of any end. Therefore in the government of the world physical agents, improperly so called, or mechanical, or second causes, or natural causes, or instrumetns, are necessary to assist, not the governor, but the governed. [Siris 160]
As we shall see in the next passage, there is more to this passage than meets the eye. The idea only hinted at here, that the laws of natures are rules we formulate to help us know what to expect, govern ourselves, and obtain our ends, is a key part of Berkeley's view of the laws of nature.
3. Mechanical laws of nature or motion direct us how to act and teach us what to expect. Where intellect presides there will be method and order, and therefore rules, which if not state and constant would cease to be rules. There is therefore a constancy in things, which is styled the Course of Nature (sect 160). All the phaenomena in nature are produced by motion. There appears an uniform working in things great and small, by attracting and repelling forces. But the particular laws of attraction and repulsion are various. Nor are we concerned at all about the forces, neither can we know or measure them otherwise than by their effects, that is to say, the motions; which motions only, and not the forces, are indeed in the bodies (sect. 155). Bodies are moved to or from each other, and this is performed according to different laws. The natural or mechanic philosopher endeavours to discover those laws by experiment and reasoning. But what is said of forces residing in bodies, whether attracting or repelling is to be regarded only as a mathematical hypothesis, and not as anything really existing in nature. [Siris 234]
As he goes on to note in section 235, this means that we can't suppose that there is any sort of real power in the particles composing bodies; so we come up here against Berkeley's occasionalism. Notice the emphasis again on the physical laws of nature being rules directing us with regard how to act and what to expect; on Berkeley's view, laws of nature are very closely analogous to grammatical rules. Like grammatical rules they are formulated after the fact, on the basis of the language they are interpreting; like grammatical rules they are pragmatically oriented, being primarily for use; like grammatical rules they are simply hypotheses that save the phenomena for practical purposes; and like grammatical rules we shouldn't take too seriously the fact that they posit something to exist. On the other hand, it must be understood that Berkeley is not, strictly speaking, an anti-realist about laws of nature, for he thinks there really are rules that constitute the 'course of nature': namely, the rules God uses in communicating to us the course of nature. This aspect of Berkeley's view goes back to some of his earliest thinking and is argued for in his first published work, the New Theory of Vision, when he argues that vision is, quite literally, a form of communication between the divine mind and the minds of creatures.
*****
1. The principles whereof a thing is compounded, the instrument used in its production, and the end for which it was intended, are all in vulgar use termed causes; though none of them be, strictly speaking, agent or efficient. There is not any proof that an extended corporeal or mechanical cause doth really and properly act; even motion itself being in truth a passion. Therefore, though we speak of this fiery substance as acting, yet it is to be understood only as a mean or instrument; which indeed is the case of all mechanical causes whatsoever. They are, nevertheless, sometimes termed agents and causes, although they are by nomeans active in a strict and proper signification. When therefore force, power, virtue,or action is mentioned as subsisting in an extended and corporeal or mechanical being, this is not to be taken in a true, genuine, and real, but only in a gross and popular sense, which sticks to appearances, and doth not analyze things to their first principles. In compilance with established language and the use of the world, we must employ the popular current phrase. But then in truth we ought to distinguish its meaning. It may suffice to have made this declaration once for all, in order to avoid mistakes. [Siris 155]
'Mechanical' here means roughly what we would call 'physical'. Berkeley's claim that motion is properly only a passion, something undergone, rather than a genuine action, is a common one in the period. The reference to 'this fiery substance' is a reference to what Berkeley has been discussing. Berkeley is much taken with the notion of a World Soul that is a 'pure aethereal fire'; and has been speculating (Siris is explicitly a speculative work, put forward not dogmatically but as food for thought) about its role in the functioning of the cosmos. This is part of the general drift of the work: from the properties of tar-water to the properties of mechanical causes to cosmic operations (the world soul) to minds to the divine mind to the Trinity. He has been treating the 'pure aethereal fire' (which he also calls 'light') as a cause, and is clarifying the sense in which he does not mean it.
2. The mind of man acts by an instrument necessarily. The το 'ηγεμονικον, or Mind presiding in the world, acts by an instrument freely. Without instrumental and second causes there could be no regular course of nature. And without a regular course, nature could never be understood; mankind must always be at a loss, not knowing what to expect, or how to govern themselves, or direct their actions for the obtaining of any end. Therefore in the government of the world physical agents, improperly so called, or mechanical, or second causes, or natural causes, or instrumetns, are necessary to assist, not the governor, but the governed. [Siris 160]
As we shall see in the next passage, there is more to this passage than meets the eye. The idea only hinted at here, that the laws of natures are rules we formulate to help us know what to expect, govern ourselves, and obtain our ends, is a key part of Berkeley's view of the laws of nature.
3. Mechanical laws of nature or motion direct us how to act and teach us what to expect. Where intellect presides there will be method and order, and therefore rules, which if not state and constant would cease to be rules. There is therefore a constancy in things, which is styled the Course of Nature (sect 160). All the phaenomena in nature are produced by motion. There appears an uniform working in things great and small, by attracting and repelling forces. But the particular laws of attraction and repulsion are various. Nor are we concerned at all about the forces, neither can we know or measure them otherwise than by their effects, that is to say, the motions; which motions only, and not the forces, are indeed in the bodies (sect. 155). Bodies are moved to or from each other, and this is performed according to different laws. The natural or mechanic philosopher endeavours to discover those laws by experiment and reasoning. But what is said of forces residing in bodies, whether attracting or repelling is to be regarded only as a mathematical hypothesis, and not as anything really existing in nature. [Siris 234]
As he goes on to note in section 235, this means that we can't suppose that there is any sort of real power in the particles composing bodies; so we come up here against Berkeley's occasionalism. Notice the emphasis again on the physical laws of nature being rules directing us with regard how to act and what to expect; on Berkeley's view, laws of nature are very closely analogous to grammatical rules. Like grammatical rules they are formulated after the fact, on the basis of the language they are interpreting; like grammatical rules they are pragmatically oriented, being primarily for use; like grammatical rules they are simply hypotheses that save the phenomena for practical purposes; and like grammatical rules we shouldn't take too seriously the fact that they posit something to exist. On the other hand, it must be understood that Berkeley is not, strictly speaking, an anti-realist about laws of nature, for he thinks there really are rules that constitute the 'course of nature': namely, the rules God uses in communicating to us the course of nature. This aspect of Berkeley's view goes back to some of his earliest thinking and is argued for in his first published work, the New Theory of Vision, when he argues that vision is, quite literally, a form of communication between the divine mind and the minds of creatures.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Aquinas on Spiritual Light
The following is one of my favorite articles in the Summa Theologiae, ST 1.67.1. I think that, among other things, it identifies a feature of language that is too often overlooked, namely, that some words can be taken figuratively or literally without change in their basic meaning if they are taken figuratively and literally in different senses. I also have a general interest in the theological theme of light.
The translation is mine, and thus rough (practice, one might say); it should be taken with a grain of salt. The Latin is here; the Dominican Fathers translation is here.
****
Thus we proceed to the first.
It seems that light is properly said of spiritual things. Thus Augustine says (Gen. ad Litt. IV) that in spiritual things is a better and more certain light, and that Christ is not said to be light in the same sense that he is said to be stone, but the former properly, the latter figuratively.
Further, Dionysius (Div. Nom. IV) places Light among the intelligible names of God. But the intelligible names of God are properly said of spiritual things. Therefore light is properly said of spiritual things.
Further, the Apostle says (Eph. 5), all that is manifested is light. But manifestation is more properly in spiritual things than in corporeal things. Therefore so also with light.
But against this is the fact that Ambrose (De Fide) places splendor among those things that are said of God metaphorically.
I respond that it must be said that some names are appropriately said in two ways: in one way according to their first imposition, in another way, according to the use of the name. Thus it is clear in the word 'vision' that by first imposition it signifies the act of the sense of vision [ad significandum actum sensus visus]; but according to the dignity and sureness of this sense, this word is extended, according to spoken usage, to all the cognition of the other senses (thus it is said, "Seeing how it tastes" or "seeing how it smells" or "seeing how it is hot") and further to intellectual cognition, as in Matt. 5: "Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God." And similarly this must be said of the word 'light'. For firstly it is instituted to signify what makes manifest in the sense of vision; but afterward it is extended to signify what makes manifest according to any cognition. If, therefore, the word 'light' is taken according to its first imposition, it is said metaphorically of spiritual things, as Ambrose says. But if it is taken according to its spoken usage, extended to all manifestation, it is properly said of spiritual things.
And from this the response to the objections is clear.
UPDATE: Corrected several typos; and fixed a mistranslation of 'certior' and improved (although not entirely to my satisfaction) the translation of the above Latin phrase (thanks to Ocham for pointing out both of these weaknesses in the original post).
The translation is mine, and thus rough (practice, one might say); it should be taken with a grain of salt. The Latin is here; the Dominican Fathers translation is here.
****
Thus we proceed to the first.
It seems that light is properly said of spiritual things. Thus Augustine says (Gen. ad Litt. IV) that in spiritual things is a better and more certain light, and that Christ is not said to be light in the same sense that he is said to be stone, but the former properly, the latter figuratively.
Further, Dionysius (Div. Nom. IV) places Light among the intelligible names of God. But the intelligible names of God are properly said of spiritual things. Therefore light is properly said of spiritual things.
Further, the Apostle says (Eph. 5), all that is manifested is light. But manifestation is more properly in spiritual things than in corporeal things. Therefore so also with light.
But against this is the fact that Ambrose (De Fide) places splendor among those things that are said of God metaphorically.
I respond that it must be said that some names are appropriately said in two ways: in one way according to their first imposition, in another way, according to the use of the name. Thus it is clear in the word 'vision' that by first imposition it signifies the act of the sense of vision [ad significandum actum sensus visus]; but according to the dignity and sureness of this sense, this word is extended, according to spoken usage, to all the cognition of the other senses (thus it is said, "Seeing how it tastes" or "seeing how it smells" or "seeing how it is hot") and further to intellectual cognition, as in Matt. 5: "Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God." And similarly this must be said of the word 'light'. For firstly it is instituted to signify what makes manifest in the sense of vision; but afterward it is extended to signify what makes manifest according to any cognition. If, therefore, the word 'light' is taken according to its first imposition, it is said metaphorically of spiritual things, as Ambrose says. But if it is taken according to its spoken usage, extended to all manifestation, it is properly said of spiritual things.
And from this the response to the objections is clear.
UPDATE: Corrected several typos; and fixed a mistranslation of 'certior' and improved (although not entirely to my satisfaction) the translation of the above Latin phrase (thanks to Ocham for pointing out both of these weaknesses in the original post).
On Interpreting Scripture
The third Biblical Studies carnival is up at "ricoblog".
For the occasion I leave you with this tale from the Desert Fathers. Some of the elders once visited Saint Anthony the Great, and along with them came the abbot Joseph. Saint Anthony, having seen in his lifetime many men of very different qualities, decided to determine what manner of men had come to him. He proposed to them a passage of Scripture, asking for its meaning. One by one they gave their opinions; and to each of them, he said, "You have not found it." At last the question came to abbot Joseph.
"What is the meaning of this passage?" Saint Anthony said to abbot Joseph.
"I do not know," said abbot Joseph to Saint Anthony.
Then Saint Anthony turned to the elders and said, "Truly I say to you, the abbot Joseph has learned the only way in which Scripture can be interpreted. For when he does not know, he acknowledges his own ignorance."
For the occasion I leave you with this tale from the Desert Fathers. Some of the elders once visited Saint Anthony the Great, and along with them came the abbot Joseph. Saint Anthony, having seen in his lifetime many men of very different qualities, decided to determine what manner of men had come to him. He proposed to them a passage of Scripture, asking for its meaning. One by one they gave their opinions; and to each of them, he said, "You have not found it." At last the question came to abbot Joseph.
"What is the meaning of this passage?" Saint Anthony said to abbot Joseph.
"I do not know," said abbot Joseph to Saint Anthony.
Then Saint Anthony turned to the elders and said, "Truly I say to you, the abbot Joseph has learned the only way in which Scripture can be interpreted. For when he does not know, he acknowledges his own ignorance."
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Worth Remembering
I remember that, speaking of his fellow Americans, especially of American youth, a great friend of mine said to me one day: "They have no roots." The worst scoundrel in Europe has roots; there is some old human legacy to which he can stick, for better or for worse. Here there is, it seems to me, a certain instability, or fleetingness, in the life of individuals; one is less sure that "it will last," that they will carry through, I don't say with the job they are determined to do, I would rather say with the inner purpose they have formed as to the direction of their own personal life.
That is why, among the general features of American psychology, and despite many exceptions, of course, I think we can observe a certain proneness to a peculiar sort of impatience, and, as a result, a proneness also to quick discouragement. Let me make my thought clearer. I just said that the impatience in question is a peculiar sort of impatience. American crowds (when waiting for a train, for instance or inconvenienced by any of the multiple regulations of our modern life, or plagued by red tape) are incomparably more patient than French crowds. Men and women in this country confront suffering with great courage, and often a strange Stoic resignation. In emergencies they manifest admirable endurance. But they are not patient with life.
They are not patient with their own life, as a rule. And they get disturbed and discouraged very soon, if the work they have undertaken is slow to succeed. The American artist, the American painter, would like to have his work satisfy him rapidly and give immediate results, whereas a French painter, a Cézanne, a Rouault -- disregarded, spurned by all for perhaps thirty or forty years -- remains bent on working with furious patience. As a rule, I think, a young American would be afraid that such an attitude marked only presumptuous stubbornness. If he is not recognized, he starts doubting himself. He thinks he is a failure.
Jacques Maritain, following in the French tradition of Chateaubriand and Tocqueville, in Reflections on America. In context he is discussing weaknesses in American society. And there's no doubt that this is one.
UPDATE: Another great line. This time Maritain is discussing deep-rooted American illusions. The fifth is this:
Americans seem sometimes to believe that if you are a thinker you must be a frowning bore, because thinking is so damn serious.
This one's more serious, though. It's number seven:
A number of Americans seem to consider that marriage must be both the perfect fulfillment of romantic love and the pursuit of full individual self-realization for the two partners involved.
That is why, among the general features of American psychology, and despite many exceptions, of course, I think we can observe a certain proneness to a peculiar sort of impatience, and, as a result, a proneness also to quick discouragement. Let me make my thought clearer. I just said that the impatience in question is a peculiar sort of impatience. American crowds (when waiting for a train, for instance or inconvenienced by any of the multiple regulations of our modern life, or plagued by red tape) are incomparably more patient than French crowds. Men and women in this country confront suffering with great courage, and often a strange Stoic resignation. In emergencies they manifest admirable endurance. But they are not patient with life.
They are not patient with their own life, as a rule. And they get disturbed and discouraged very soon, if the work they have undertaken is slow to succeed. The American artist, the American painter, would like to have his work satisfy him rapidly and give immediate results, whereas a French painter, a Cézanne, a Rouault -- disregarded, spurned by all for perhaps thirty or forty years -- remains bent on working with furious patience. As a rule, I think, a young American would be afraid that such an attitude marked only presumptuous stubbornness. If he is not recognized, he starts doubting himself. He thinks he is a failure.
Jacques Maritain, following in the French tradition of Chateaubriand and Tocqueville, in Reflections on America. In context he is discussing weaknesses in American society. And there's no doubt that this is one.
UPDATE: Another great line. This time Maritain is discussing deep-rooted American illusions. The fifth is this:
Americans seem sometimes to believe that if you are a thinker you must be a frowning bore, because thinking is so damn serious.
This one's more serious, though. It's number seven:
A number of Americans seem to consider that marriage must be both the perfect fulfillment of romantic love and the pursuit of full individual self-realization for the two partners involved.
Hume on the Components of Causal Inference
What do we do when we engage in causal inferences? One of Hume’s important claims is that chains of causal inferences must be ‘fixed’ in some impression or memory. Hume establishes this by a regress argument. If Hume is right, any causal inference will involve the following:
(A) An originating impression of the thing
(B) A transition to the idea of the connected cause or effect
(C) The idea of this connected cause or effect
What is more, causal inferences can induce belief, and this is an important feature of them, given that they are only way (besides impressions) that we can gain the knowledge that something exists. Hume uses these insights to divide his discussion in the Treatise into the following parts:
1) The analysis
1a) The nature of the impressions (1.3.5)
1b) The nature of the inference (1.3.6)
1c) The nature of the idea or belief (1.3.7)
1d) How belief is induced (1.3.8)
5) Relevant objections
5a) How can Hume’s analysis distinguish causal inference from other inferences? (1.3.9)
5b) How can Hume’s analysis account for the immense and important effects of belief? (1.3.10)
6) Confirmation of Hume’s analysis by application to different types of causal reasoning
6a) ‘Probability of chances’ (1.3.11)
6b) ‘Probability of causes’ (1.3.12)
6c) ‘Unphilosophical probability’ (1.3.13)
At this point, Hume uses his analysis to return to his original question, namely, the nature of the necessary connection between cause and effect. One advantage of laying out the argument in this way is that it enables us to see just how beautifully organized the argument really is. It sprawls considerably, so on a first reading, or, for that matter, on multiple readings, it is very easy to regard it as one long ramble. In fact, it is a brilliantly organized argument, despite its apparent digressions. Hume has a particular analysis of causal inference, which is important for answering the question he wants to answer. He recognizes, however, that the analysis is likely to be controversial, so he does his best to show just how strong it can be by answering the chief objections and showing how fruitful it is. It is, if I may interject a personal note here, a breathtaking instance of one of the great rewards of doing history of philosophy; at times one comes across an argument, perhaps unclear or rambling or apparently confused, that, laid out correctly, shows itself to be truly beautiful. If this is rambling, would that more philosophers rambled!
Of course, I think for various reasons that Hume's analysis fails, particularly with regard to the induction of belief; but it's a genuinely noble attempt.
(A) An originating impression of the thing
(B) A transition to the idea of the connected cause or effect
(C) The idea of this connected cause or effect
What is more, causal inferences can induce belief, and this is an important feature of them, given that they are only way (besides impressions) that we can gain the knowledge that something exists. Hume uses these insights to divide his discussion in the Treatise into the following parts:
1) The analysis
1a) The nature of the impressions (1.3.5)
1b) The nature of the inference (1.3.6)
1c) The nature of the idea or belief (1.3.7)
1d) How belief is induced (1.3.8)
5) Relevant objections
5a) How can Hume’s analysis distinguish causal inference from other inferences? (1.3.9)
5b) How can Hume’s analysis account for the immense and important effects of belief? (1.3.10)
6) Confirmation of Hume’s analysis by application to different types of causal reasoning
6a) ‘Probability of chances’ (1.3.11)
6b) ‘Probability of causes’ (1.3.12)
6c) ‘Unphilosophical probability’ (1.3.13)
At this point, Hume uses his analysis to return to his original question, namely, the nature of the necessary connection between cause and effect. One advantage of laying out the argument in this way is that it enables us to see just how beautifully organized the argument really is. It sprawls considerably, so on a first reading, or, for that matter, on multiple readings, it is very easy to regard it as one long ramble. In fact, it is a brilliantly organized argument, despite its apparent digressions. Hume has a particular analysis of causal inference, which is important for answering the question he wants to answer. He recognizes, however, that the analysis is likely to be controversial, so he does his best to show just how strong it can be by answering the chief objections and showing how fruitful it is. It is, if I may interject a personal note here, a breathtaking instance of one of the great rewards of doing history of philosophy; at times one comes across an argument, perhaps unclear or rambling or apparently confused, that, laid out correctly, shows itself to be truly beautiful. If this is rambling, would that more philosophers rambled!
Of course, I think for various reasons that Hume's analysis fails, particularly with regard to the induction of belief; but it's a genuinely noble attempt.
Champion of the Single Christ
One of the most important (post-NT) theologian in the history of Christianity is almost unknown in the West. St. Cyril of Alexandria died in 444. His thought dominated four ecumenical councils (Ephesus, Chalcedon, II Constantinople, and III Constantinople) and several of his letters are simply affirmed by these councils as orthodox.
He is best known for being, as Patriarch of Alexandria, the opponent of Nestorius, the Patriarch of Constantinople. It was a very serious dispute, since the four major Patriarchs were split : Antioch (whose bishop was John) and Constantinople were Nestorian, Alexandria and Rome (whose bishop was Celestine) were Cyrilline. So serious was the dispute that, to keep the peace, the Emperor Theodoret had to call a council. The outcome was the Council of Ephesus, where Nestorius was deposed as bishop. The Antiochene delegation was delayed to the Council, and Cyril made the serious error of opening the council instead of waiting. In response, John and his supporters formed a counter-council that issued a declaration saying that Memnon (bishop of Ephesus) and Cyril were deposed. Eventually, the counter-council's deposition was considered invalid and John and Cyril were reconciled; Cyril's letter to John upon reconciliation was accepted by the Council of Chalcedon.
Thanks to the Internet you can have easy access to translations of the conciliar decrees and some of Cyril's most important works.
Council of Ephesus
Council of Chalcedon
II Constantinople
III Constantinople
Cyril of Alexandria
Cyril's writings at Early Church Fathers
He is best known for being, as Patriarch of Alexandria, the opponent of Nestorius, the Patriarch of Constantinople. It was a very serious dispute, since the four major Patriarchs were split : Antioch (whose bishop was John) and Constantinople were Nestorian, Alexandria and Rome (whose bishop was Celestine) were Cyrilline. So serious was the dispute that, to keep the peace, the Emperor Theodoret had to call a council. The outcome was the Council of Ephesus, where Nestorius was deposed as bishop. The Antiochene delegation was delayed to the Council, and Cyril made the serious error of opening the council instead of waiting. In response, John and his supporters formed a counter-council that issued a declaration saying that Memnon (bishop of Ephesus) and Cyril were deposed. Eventually, the counter-council's deposition was considered invalid and John and Cyril were reconciled; Cyril's letter to John upon reconciliation was accepted by the Council of Chalcedon.
Thanks to the Internet you can have easy access to translations of the conciliar decrees and some of Cyril's most important works.
Council of Ephesus
Council of Chalcedon
II Constantinople
III Constantinople
Cyril of Alexandria
Cyril's writings at Early Church Fathers
Aquinas on Faith, Hope, and Love
Our blessings or goods consist especially in faith, hope, and the love of charity: for by faith we have a knowledge of God; by hope we are raised up to him; but by the love of charity we are united to him. As we read: “So faith, hope, love, abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor. 13:13).
Aquinas, Commentary on Colossians (PDF)
Aquinas, Commentary on Colossians (PDF)
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
On Time Again
The recent discussion of eternity and time both here and at FQI has made it clear to me that a major issue in the debate is the question of what we should see a theory of time as doing. I would suggest the following considerations as food for thought. All of them are rough, and most of them are controversial.
(1) It's actually very difficult to distinguish the two major theories of time. Everyone agrees that time is characterizable in terms of past-present-future (tensed properties); and everyone agrees that time is characterizable in terms of earlier-later (the so-called 'tenseless properties). Thus, the usual way of distinguishing the two theories in these terms doesn't actually shed much light on the subject at all. Claims that the two forms of characterization are not intertranslatable have always turned out at some point to fail; and while this is not proof that the claim is simply false, it should make us very wary of people who attempt to do philosophy of time by way of grammar.
(2) It goes without saying that a theory of time can only tell us about temporal things. Thus, we cannot assume that someone with either theory will hold that his theory of time covers everything that exists, unless it can be assumed that everything is temporally conditioned. In some contexts -- like questions of divine eternity, or mathematical truths, for instance -- this cannot be assumed.
(3) The common idea that the Special Theory of Relativity can't be accepted in a realist way by a presentist is simply false, as can be seen in the case of process philosophers, who (universally) are presentists and (generally) accept the Special Theory of Relativity in a realist fashion, because they follow Whitehead's recognition that presentism doesn't require one to say there is only one privileged present -- in other words, you can be a presentist and hold that there are many privileged presents. The common claim assumes that to have a privileged present you can only have one present (otherwise it's not privileged); but the process view recognizes, rightly, that an A-theorist only has to view the present as privileged over the past and future. To put the matter crudely, an A-theorist can believe in a 'smeared' or even a disjointed present. An A-theorist does not require absolute simultaneity. And, strictly speaking, an A-theorist doesn't even have to privilege the present at all. Some A-theorists, e.g., growing block theorists, privilege the past as well as the present -- they simply deny privileges to the future. It is possible, as well, to have an A-theorist who doesn't do so, but grants privileges to all times. See the following paper by Dean Zimmerman on this point: The A-theory of time, the B-theory of time, and 'Taking Tense Seriously' (PDF). Most card-carrying A-theorists are presentists; but not all. This has to do with the problem of distinguishing the positions, which I discuss below.
(4) The idea, occasionally (but fortunately not commonly) found, that the B-theorist is somehow arguing that time is illusory is not even coherent. The B-theory is not an argument that there is no time; it is a theory of time, and thus presupposes that there is time.
(5) What, then, is the real difference between A-theory and B-theory? My suggestion is that there is no clear difference, has never been a clear difference, and that the distinction is just not a useful one to make because it can only be made in superficial, purely verbal, ways that have nothing to do with the price of potatoes. That's a highly controversial claim to make; but I've never seen any reason to think otherwise. The original distinction was made in terms of translation, which made sense: it was just a distinction between two views about whether 'past-present-future' (PPF) or 'earlier-later' (EL) were superior ways of talking about time. The A-theorists were ones who claimed that some facts characterizable in PPF format were not characterizable at all in EL format; and the B-theorists held the reverse. These were, it should be noted, not the only possible positions; it is also possible to hold to the position that PPF and EL are, given reasonable suppositions, perfectly intertranslatable, and the only translation difference between them is the commonplace one that for identifying some facts PPF is simpler and for identifying others EL is simpler; likewise, it is possible to hold that each is able to characterize facts that the other is not, and thus that neither was superior. But one can see how the distinction makes a certain amount of sense. If PPF is able to characterize facts EL is not, or vice versa, then those facts in contention could serve to distinguish the two theories. If people privilege PPF over EL in characterization, they are A-theorists; if the reverse, they are B-theorists.
At some point, however, probably with Mellor, it was recognized that, while the translation approach made sense, it couldn't do what it was supposed to do without begging the question. As Mellor noted, suppose we have a statement in PPF format that can't be translated into EL. What difference does it make? A statement that can't be translated into EL could still be made true by a fact that is more adequately characterized in EL format. In the same way, a materialist might hold that while first-person talk can't be adequately fleshed out by any translation into third-person talk of which we are aware, we nevertheless have good reasons to think that all first-person talk is made true by facts most adequately characterizable in a third-person way. In other words, an inability to translate everything sayable in PPF into EL could be due to a defect or limitation in the PPF format (vagueness, or simplification, or whatever). So the translation approach fails to give us an interesting distinction. However, what are we left with? Not much. For we need some non-question-begging way to identify whether a given fact that makes a statement true is more adequately characterized in PPF or EL, regardless of whether the statement (if in PPF format) is translatable into EL format, or vice versa. We have (let us face it) no way of doing this.
(6) The distinction, then, is one that deserves to die. But I don't expect many people will be rushing to kill it. Nonetheless, it is possible to work with it if we see the distinction not as a a theory of time but as a grammar of temporal existence. The difference will be this: The A-theorist holds that, for temporal things, those things are most properly said to actually exist or occur that are present. The B-theorist holds that all things at any time are equally properly said to actually exist or occur (with the understanding that they do so at the time they do). The difference is one of emphasis; the dispute is a purely pragmatic one; it has its uses, but let's not get very excited about it. It turns out to be entirely a matter of convenience of analysis.
(1) It's actually very difficult to distinguish the two major theories of time. Everyone agrees that time is characterizable in terms of past-present-future (tensed properties); and everyone agrees that time is characterizable in terms of earlier-later (the so-called 'tenseless properties). Thus, the usual way of distinguishing the two theories in these terms doesn't actually shed much light on the subject at all. Claims that the two forms of characterization are not intertranslatable have always turned out at some point to fail; and while this is not proof that the claim is simply false, it should make us very wary of people who attempt to do philosophy of time by way of grammar.
(2) It goes without saying that a theory of time can only tell us about temporal things. Thus, we cannot assume that someone with either theory will hold that his theory of time covers everything that exists, unless it can be assumed that everything is temporally conditioned. In some contexts -- like questions of divine eternity, or mathematical truths, for instance -- this cannot be assumed.
(3) The common idea that the Special Theory of Relativity can't be accepted in a realist way by a presentist is simply false, as can be seen in the case of process philosophers, who (universally) are presentists and (generally) accept the Special Theory of Relativity in a realist fashion, because they follow Whitehead's recognition that presentism doesn't require one to say there is only one privileged present -- in other words, you can be a presentist and hold that there are many privileged presents. The common claim assumes that to have a privileged present you can only have one present (otherwise it's not privileged); but the process view recognizes, rightly, that an A-theorist only has to view the present as privileged over the past and future. To put the matter crudely, an A-theorist can believe in a 'smeared' or even a disjointed present. An A-theorist does not require absolute simultaneity. And, strictly speaking, an A-theorist doesn't even have to privilege the present at all. Some A-theorists, e.g., growing block theorists, privilege the past as well as the present -- they simply deny privileges to the future. It is possible, as well, to have an A-theorist who doesn't do so, but grants privileges to all times. See the following paper by Dean Zimmerman on this point: The A-theory of time, the B-theory of time, and 'Taking Tense Seriously' (PDF). Most card-carrying A-theorists are presentists; but not all. This has to do with the problem of distinguishing the positions, which I discuss below.
(4) The idea, occasionally (but fortunately not commonly) found, that the B-theorist is somehow arguing that time is illusory is not even coherent. The B-theory is not an argument that there is no time; it is a theory of time, and thus presupposes that there is time.
(5) What, then, is the real difference between A-theory and B-theory? My suggestion is that there is no clear difference, has never been a clear difference, and that the distinction is just not a useful one to make because it can only be made in superficial, purely verbal, ways that have nothing to do with the price of potatoes. That's a highly controversial claim to make; but I've never seen any reason to think otherwise. The original distinction was made in terms of translation, which made sense: it was just a distinction between two views about whether 'past-present-future' (PPF) or 'earlier-later' (EL) were superior ways of talking about time. The A-theorists were ones who claimed that some facts characterizable in PPF format were not characterizable at all in EL format; and the B-theorists held the reverse. These were, it should be noted, not the only possible positions; it is also possible to hold to the position that PPF and EL are, given reasonable suppositions, perfectly intertranslatable, and the only translation difference between them is the commonplace one that for identifying some facts PPF is simpler and for identifying others EL is simpler; likewise, it is possible to hold that each is able to characterize facts that the other is not, and thus that neither was superior. But one can see how the distinction makes a certain amount of sense. If PPF is able to characterize facts EL is not, or vice versa, then those facts in contention could serve to distinguish the two theories. If people privilege PPF over EL in characterization, they are A-theorists; if the reverse, they are B-theorists.
At some point, however, probably with Mellor, it was recognized that, while the translation approach made sense, it couldn't do what it was supposed to do without begging the question. As Mellor noted, suppose we have a statement in PPF format that can't be translated into EL. What difference does it make? A statement that can't be translated into EL could still be made true by a fact that is more adequately characterized in EL format. In the same way, a materialist might hold that while first-person talk can't be adequately fleshed out by any translation into third-person talk of which we are aware, we nevertheless have good reasons to think that all first-person talk is made true by facts most adequately characterizable in a third-person way. In other words, an inability to translate everything sayable in PPF into EL could be due to a defect or limitation in the PPF format (vagueness, or simplification, or whatever). So the translation approach fails to give us an interesting distinction. However, what are we left with? Not much. For we need some non-question-begging way to identify whether a given fact that makes a statement true is more adequately characterized in PPF or EL, regardless of whether the statement (if in PPF format) is translatable into EL format, or vice versa. We have (let us face it) no way of doing this.
(6) The distinction, then, is one that deserves to die. But I don't expect many people will be rushing to kill it. Nonetheless, it is possible to work with it if we see the distinction not as a a theory of time but as a grammar of temporal existence. The difference will be this: The A-theorist holds that, for temporal things, those things are most properly said to actually exist or occur that are present. The B-theorist holds that all things at any time are equally properly said to actually exist or occur (with the understanding that they do so at the time they do). The difference is one of emphasis; the dispute is a purely pragmatic one; it has its uses, but let's not get very excited about it. It turns out to be entirely a matter of convenience of analysis.
Reading for Ash Wednesday
Remember that you are dust; to dust you shall return.
We are Dust! at "Rebecca Writes"
Ash Wednesday Notes at "Hugo Schwyzer"
Ash Wednesday: Practice and Meaning at "Mark D. Roberts"
Reflection on the Ashes at "Dappled Things"
Rend Your Hearts, Not Your Garments at "Flos Carmeli"
The First Day of Lent at "Magic Statistics"
Penitence, Fasting, and Pride at "GetReligion"
If you've come across any good and timely posts on the subject, let me know.
We are Dust! at "Rebecca Writes"
Ash Wednesday Notes at "Hugo Schwyzer"
Ash Wednesday: Practice and Meaning at "Mark D. Roberts"
Reflection on the Ashes at "Dappled Things"
Rend Your Hearts, Not Your Garments at "Flos Carmeli"
The First Day of Lent at "Magic Statistics"
Penitence, Fasting, and Pride at "GetReligion"
If you've come across any good and timely posts on the subject, let me know.
'Peer Review'
One thing that has recently come to bother me is that the public at large doesn't know what peer review is. (This becomes very clear in, for example, discussions of whether Wikipedia or blogs are peer-reviewed.) Most people think it means 'review by a peer', which is understandable; but, of course, no academic would consider the fact that their paper was looked over by a colleague, no matter how thoroughly or expertly, 'peer review'. Of course, such a thing is neither necessary nor sufficient for reasonable quality control. Academics, of course, always mean refereeing, where the contribution is officially referred to relevant experts for review in order to determine suitability for publication. It occurs to me that academics should drop the phrase 'peer review' altogether, despite how common it is, as a phrase that just confuses communication between academia and the larger public. (And if you think that it's a trivial issue, I remind you of just how much confusion is engendered in the public in the intelligent design controversy over whether an article was 'peer-reviewed'.)
History Carnival #26
History Carnival #26 is up at "World History Blog". I found the post on Newfoundland vs. Iceland particularly interesting. Also recommended is When Scientists Dabble in History.
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