Friday, December 04, 2015

Mnemonic Poetry

A mnemonic poem from H. Holman and M. C. W. Irvine, Questions on Logic (1897):

Of terms have but three; proposition as term;
Distribute the Middle--in this be most firm;
Distribute no term in Conclusion, beside,
Unless in a premise 'tis equally wide;
One premise affirmative, this you must learn,
For negative premises nothing affirm;
A negative head has a negative tail,
And the converse of this is of equal avail.

I found it quoted in Peter Coffey, The Science of Logic (1912). The standard rules of syllogism that the mnemonic summarizes are as follows, with the line to which the rule corresponds:

(1) A syllogism must contain three, and only three, terms. (line 1a)
(2) A syllogism must contain three, and only three, propositions. (line 1b)
(3) The middle term must be distributed at least once in the premises. (line 2)
(4) No term may be distributed in the conclusion that is not distributed in the premises. (lines 3-4)
(5) At least one premise must be affirmative. (lines 5-6)
(6) A negative premise requires a negative conclusion and vice versa. (lines 7-8)

Mnemonic poetry is an art that should really be more widely cultivated, I think. The goal is to get a poem that flows well as a poem (thus making it easy to memorize, since many poetic devices are mnemonic devices as well, and not by accident) but which concisely captures what is to be memorized with as little padding as possible. The poem above does fairly well -- here's the poem with the padding struck out:

Of terms have but three; proposition as term;
Distribute the Middle--in this be most firm;
Distribute no term in Conclusion, beside,
Unless in a premise 'tis equally wide;
One premise affirmative, this you must learn,
For negative premises nothing affirm;
A negative head has a negative tail,
And the converse of this is of equal avail.

One can perhaps argue both sides of whether "of this is equal avail" is padding, and likewise with the sixth line. After a poem with no padding, the best is a poem in which the padding only goes to what is required for the mnemonic, and this is true for this example, in which the padding contributes to the meter and rhyme, which are the poetic features that make it mnemonic.

The Fellowship of Books

Good Books
by Edgar Guest


Good books are friendly things to own.
If you are busy they will wait.
They will not call you on the phone
Or wake you if the hour is late.
They stand together row by row,
Upon the low shelf or the high.
But if you're lonesome this you know:
You have a friend or two nearby.

The fellowship of books is real.
They're never noisy when you're still.
They won't disturb you at your meal.
They'll comfort you when you are ill.
The lonesome hours they'll always share.
When slighted they will not complain.
And though for them you've ceased to care
Your constant friends they'll still remain.

Good books your faults will never see
Or tell about them round the town.
If you would have their company
You merely have to take them down.
They'll help you pass the time away,
They'll counsel give if that you need.
He has true friends for night and day
Who has a few good books to read.

Chrysorrhoas

Today is the feast of St. John of Damascus, Doctor of the Church. From Part III of his Treatise on Holy Images:

I do not worship matter, I worship the God of matter, who became matter for my sake, and deigned to inhabit matter, who worked out my salvation through matter. I will not cease from honouring that matter which works my salvation. I venerate it, though not as God. How could God be born out of lifeless things? And if God’s body is God by union (καθ’ ὑπόστασιν), it is immutable. The nature of God remains the same as before, the flesh created in time is quickened by a logical and reasoning soul. I honour all matter besides, and venerate it. Through it, filled, as it were, with a divine power and grace, my salvation has come to me. Was not the thrice happy and thrice blessed wood of the Cross matter? Was not the sacred and holy mountain of Calvary matter? What of the life-giving rock, the Holy Sepulchre, the source of our resurrection: was it not matter? Is not the most holy book of the Gospels matter? Is not the blessed table matter which gives us the Bread of Life? Are not the gold and silver matter, out of which crosses and altar-plate and chalices are made? And before all these things, is not the body and blood of our Lord matter?

Thursday, December 03, 2015

Metany

'Metany' is a word that I had literally never seen before today. It derives from the Greek word 'metanoia' (repentance), and is a variant of 'metania'. A full prostration would be something like kneeling with one's forehead touching the floor, or close to doing so; a metany is a substitute for this, a lesser prostration in which one simply bends at the waist to touch the floor with one hand, or at least come close to it. It's a ritual gesture found in some Eastern churches, sometimes as a requirement and sometimes as a substitute for people who cannot do a full prostration when such things are required. Like any other prostration it is a gesture of humility.

So now you know, and can go forth and impress people whenever the topic comes up in casual conversation....

Ticking Time-Bomb

Suppose an occasion to arise, in which a suspicion is entertained, as strong as that which would be received as a sufficient ground for arrest and commitment as for felony — a suspicion that at this very time a considerable number of individuals are actually suffering, by illegal violence inflictions equal in intensity to those which if inflicted by the hand of justice, would universally be spoken of under the name of torture. For the purpose of rescuing from torture these hundred innocents, should any scruple be made of applying equal or superior torture, to extract the requisite information from the mouth of one criminal, who having it in his power to make known the place where at this time the enormity was practicing or about to be practiced, should refuse to do so? To say nothing of wisdom, Could any pretence be made so much as to the praise of blind and vulgar humanity, by the man who to save one criminal, should determine to abandon a hundred innocent persons to the same fate?
[from Jeremy Bentham, "Means of extraction for extraordinary occasions" (1804) UC 74b/428–30.]

Bentham, because of the above passage, is generally regarded as the originator of what is usually called the 'ticking time-bomb' justification of the use of torture in interrogation. (It's one of many reasons to dislike the influence of Bentham on ethics, I think, but not at all the least.) Jeremy Davies has a very good discussion of Bentham's views on torture in The Fire-Raisers: Bentham and Torture.

Wednesday, December 02, 2015

Fault-Finders

A Toast to the Men
by Edgar Albert Guest


Here's to the men! Since Adam's time
They've always been the same;
Whenever anything goes wrong,
The woman is to blame.
From early morn to late at night,
The men fault-finders are;
They blame us if they oversleep,
Or if they miss a car.
They blame us if, beneath the bed,
Their collar buttons roll;
They blame us if the fire is out
Or if there is no coal.
They blame us if they cut themselves
While shaving, and they swear
That we're to blame if they decide
To go upon a tear.

Here's to the men, the perfect men!
Who never are at fault;
They blame us if they chance to get
The pepper for the salt.
They blame us if their business fails,
Or back a losing horse;
And when it rains on holidays
The fault is ours, of course.
They blame us when they fall in love,
And when they married get;
Likewise they blame us when they're sick,
And when they fall in debt.
For everything that crisscross goes
They say we are to blame;
But, after all, here's to the men,
We love them just the same!

How Do You Know What Your Intuitions Are?

As I've noted before, certain strains of analytic philosophy are in the habit of trying to explain the better known by the lesser known -- things get explained in terms of propositions, justification, etc., that themselves have highly controvertible accounts. One of the terms that often comes up is 'intuitions'. It's actually quite recent; the popularity is usually ascribed to the influence of Chomsky's talk of 'linguistic intuitions'. But Chomsky had something very specific in mind, with an account of how linguistic intuitions worked and why we should take them seriously; in the spread of the term to other fields, it hasn't always been the case that people have been as careful as Chomsky. And the inevitable result is that there are a lot of different ideas of what intuitions are, and with rather different accounts that would seem to suggest that they have to work very differently. It's not my interest here to look at this disagreement more closely, but to raise a very different issue that seems to apply across the board.

On one family of accounts, intuitions are suspicions, opinions, judgments, or beliefs. On another, they are predispositions, tendencies making claims attractive to us, or the like. On another, they are appearances or perhaps rather the cognitive state of a subject when something appears to him or her -- in short, kinds of consciousness or perceptions. Take any or all of these. The question I think should be raised is: "How do we know what the content of our intuition is?"

This is not, in itself, a skeptical question. But recognizing that something is what one is actually intuiting is distinct from simply intuiting it, in the same sense that recognizing that you are seeing such-and-such is different from seeing it, or that recognizing that you are hearing Chopin is different from hearing it. While what one intuits need not be oneself, recognizing that you are intuiting something (and thus that it is what you are intuiting) is a matter of self-knowledge. There are even more accounts of what self-knowledge is than there are of what intuition is, although not all of them need be mutually exclusive, since there are a number of reasons to think that self-knowledge is a rather large genus rather than an infima species. (I have in fact elsewhere suggested that this seems to be the case for what analytic philosophers call 'intuitions', as well -- that is, that there are actually lots of very different things that work very differently that get placed into the one box.) But we don't have to get into any of that; we simply wish to raise a few questions in light of it. Three immediately come to mind.

(1) Is it possible to intuit something and not recognize that you are intuiting it? There seems some reason for thinking so. For instance, one might think that we are constantly intuiting things but that we often don't recognize that we are doing so unless we stop to reflect or introspect on what we are doing. After all, we don't spend our lives going around identifying this as an intuition, that as an intuition; we just go about our lives, and occasionally think about intuitions as such.

(2) Is it possible to think you are intuiting something and not actually be intuiting anything? Can the appearance of intuitiveness be mimicked by something else? Is it sometimes the case that what we think we intuit we are actually imposing on ourselves (perhaps under social pressure, or distraction, or hastiness, or some such) rather than really intuiting? For instance, at least some of the intuition pumps in Dennett's "Quining Qualia" could be adapted to suggest this possibility for intuitions.

(3) Is it possible to think you are intuiting something and be wrong about what you are actually intuiting? Here is one possible reason to think so: philosophers appealing to intuitions sometimes seem to suggest that what they are doing is making obscure intuitions more clear. But if intuitions can be obscure, or need to be made more clear, it seems that there is a possibility of jumping to conclusions about what they are before you've actually done the work of making them more clear. And that seems to suggest that you can think you are intuiting something and not be right about what it is.

In each case, the interesting thing is less whether one answers Yes or No than what one's reasons are and what those reasons imply about how one should proceed in appealing to intuitions. Whatever intuition might be, appealing to intuitions is a complex process: it requires intuiting, recognizing that you are intuiting and what you are intuiting, and making use of that recognition. Your account of intuitions does not automatically answer how you recognize the fact that X is what you are intuiting. Is our recognition here simply transparent and certain? Do we need to take steps to make sure that we are doing it correctly, and if so, what would they be? If we take a dispositional account of intuitions, recognizing your own dispositions is not always a simple or easy process. If we take intuitions to be more like beliefs, people do at least claim that such-and-such, although they thought they believed it at the time, was not what they really believed; what is more, people do seem at times to make false inferences about their own beliefs, by not thinking through those inferences properly. If intuitions are more like a kind of consciousness or perception, illusions are quite common for other kinds of consciousness or perception. Regardless of one's account of intuitions, there seems to be a gap here of some significance that needs an explicit bridge.