05) Separate

I decided to read on William James for two reasons: I had been briefly introduced through my times in Psychology last year and I needed a philosopher of the opposite camp of Descartes. I originally intended to discuss the differences between rationalism and empiricism, but have wandered, as per usual, into a different thought.
 
All humans perceive our shared reality distinctly. These distinctions arise out of differing experiences with the world, especially those from a young age. Our beginning years shape us the most—how our parents interact with us, the quality of our beginning conditions, if or if we do not meet and respond to other human and animal figures. These unique aspects of our upbringing create separate perceptions of reality. This is the focus of William James’s essay “On a Certain Blindness in Humans.”

What effect does the difference of perception have on thought? Or, why does James bother to speak at all on the topic of distinct human experience? To me, it’s an attempt to understand and help others understand that humans are not all alike—a thing we like to roll our eyes at and say, “well, obviously!” From what I’ve seen, this is not quite as obvious as people suggest.

Like any good philosopher, one often reflects on arguments and asks Socrates’s favorite question: “Why?” A person will pose this question differently depending on his experiences. One may suggest something like, “Why was he so mean to me?” or “Why did she keep saying that when it’s obviously wrong?” Another individual may take another course: “Why was I wrong?” The questions reveal something particular about those that ask them and these unveilings act as answers for those questions. The big reveal? Everyone perceives and reacts to situations in differing ways and we can only see it our way.

This inability to understand each other’s situations in a complete way leads to some trouble amongst humans. Although people can accept others and understand their situations to a degree, they’ll never fully comprehend or feel about the subject in the same manner. This inevitable misunderstanding can lead one to not appreciate a lifestyle or glorify his own.
 
So, what’s the philosophy here? That we can’t reconcile our differences because we live so separately? No, certainly not. While these distinct lines can hinder our ability to empathize completely, they do not mean that we cannot attempt and succeed to a minimal degree. Without the separateness or uniqueness of each individual experience, there wouldn’t be much at all to experience. However, being cognizant of the fact that people come from backgrounds different than your own can save you a lot of trouble.

04) A Worthy Digression

I have (unapologetically) digressed.

It started as usual, with cracking open World Philosophies and nosing about Immanuel Kant’s theories. He wrote the middle path between rationalist and empiricist, arguing for the existence of a priori systems of thought alongside a posterori solidity. Neither philosophy suited him; he could not agree wholly with innateness or solely with existence out of substance. Intangible concepts like duty and loyalty could not be settled to him by anything physical, they were synthetic (hence a priori), born out of human consciousness. How could one trace back to a solid relic of these types of free-floating concepts?

Upon my first reading, I found myself nodding along, fitting the pieces together easily. Kant made sense, it seemed impossible to trace synthetic concepts back to some point of physical origin. A priori subjectivity latched and left me without further thought. A few hours later, I recalled the grounded physicality of all things, even those that are artificial. They derive out of something; it seemed too ungrounded to think a child develops honor and duty out of some innate system formed during his time in the womb.

So, as any younger sister does, I prodded my older sister for a further explanation of the concept and toed the idea that it seemed far too simple. She linked me to an essay (of sorts) by Willard Quine and sent me on my way to discovery. And so my digression began.

Quine writes on linguistics, breaking down sentences to their logical and mathematical forms. The essay explores the concept of analytic statements, but quickly severs the reader form any point of argument. Quine traps the reader in an infinite loop of definition and interchangeability (salva veritate). For, the definition of a more “complex” phrase tends to be a synonym and simpler concept. Hence, any complexity perceived in a language is simply dependent on the “richness” of the language itself. Salva veritate only applies to languages that have many simple, interchangeable phrases. All concrete statements stem out of sensory experience, but seem to lose their empirical solidity as they drift further from the original concept.

According to Quine, humans brush the very fringes of experience. Our representations and understandings constantly have room for change and do change. Language, constantly in flux as it meets with new experience, therefore does not fall under constraints other than those built upon experience. This information provides us with Quine’s conclusion that there exists no boundary between synthetic and analytic, as both are constructs based on faulty human representation of sensory information.

This explanation gave some solid ground to pack the shaky path of my a priori doubt. But my interest was piqued, linguistics proved to be one of the most interesting things I’ve read about, so I inquired further and was told of a big wig in the field, the creator of one of the leading theories—Noam Chomsky.

Chomsky, a notable linguist, brought forth the theory of universal grammar. In this theory, a human child holds the key to language and an underlying grammar structure innately. Language comes to play given the correct environment circumstances—obviously one in which language-speaking adults surround the child. All languages have a common underlying grammatical structure, from Mandarin to Swedish. In this instance, language would be genetically encoded and need a trigger to begin to function.

Another part of Chomsky’s theory on language includes discontinuity from animal species. In short, he does not believe that language evolved out of animal communication. He finds the concept of man one day acquiring a near perfect grasp of language to be a more reasonable explanation than that of the evolutionary theory. He argues that animals communicate based on biological needs; they do not do so with implicit purpose, they cannot mean something else in context of their call.

The dismissal of evolutionary theory in Chomsky’s concept of language acts as a large impetus for the rest of his theory. If one did consider evolutionary theory as a method by which humans acquired language, it would be a different story. The concepts of learning and higher order memory storage would begin to play a larger role in the studying of languages, while innateness and its cul-de-sac would be off to the side. In this theory, language developed and stored itself within the human culture through constant exposure by surrounding people who spoke certain languages. These languages pass down the generations, eventually producing branches from the original (see: Latin and all the romantic languages).

Each language produces a thought process dissimilar from all others. As an interesting aspect of higher order memory storage and learning, these thought processes produce separate views of the world that then pass down again to another generation. This theory, named Whorfian theory, shows how across languages humans see the world in different ways. Simple things like memorization of directions may completely alter a person’s memory. One of the cultures that I happened to read about used the cardinal directions for their way of telling direction instead of the Western, egocentric left, right, up, down, etc. Although one cannot say what it has done to the moral compass of the culture (made them worldlier, more empathetic or detached?), it has proved to have an effect on the way that their memories are stored. Instead of visualizing a scene through the narrator’s standpoint, always facing forward, this culture imagines the room entirely how it is cardinally. It’s hard for me to imagine, really. To have such a firm grip on north, south, east, and west. I barely am able to navigate off the person-tied directions Western culture has given us.

Whorfian theory may be an indicator of Chomsky’s incorrect vision. The diversification across the globe reveals grammatical structures so vastly different and representative of the individual cultures that it seems impossible for it to have come from some strand of DNA. As I look to continue my dive into the field of linguistics (if only for a twisted kind of hobby), I plan to read Chomsky only as a refutation of other theories in the stubborn finality of his work. I see no further exploration down the Chomsky road, with things seeming to have settled and in the midst of collecting dust.

Linguistics turned out a worthy, though temporary exploration.

03) A Balance

There exists a delicate balance for the stoic between optimism and stoniness. It asks of the individual to face situations without being influenced by their surroundings, to act at all times rationally or else be slave to emotions. Fear, anger, pleasure, are all things that a stoic sage does not feel or act on, living serenely through virtuous activity. This balance allows for a full and complete life rather than one dictated by the whimsy of feeling.

Stoics believe that no man is wrong or horrible, as all humans are part of the perfection of nature. There exists no reason to find fault with something that is destined to be there, as all things are intrinsic. Though this is stated, it is unclear if stoics believe in the concept of destiny or if they respect the other existences of man. Their goal is to live harmoniously with all things in the universe.

In some aspects of stoic philosophy I found a comparison to Buddhism. Buddhism also expresses a desire for its followers to live harmoniously and unfettered by “unnecessary” emotion. I did not research any outreaching influences that may have supported that either body of philosophy touched the other. Maybe it was just an attitude that arose separately out of those two societies. Nonetheless, the two seem to relate to a degree.

A striking difference would be the lack of a nirvana-type “reward” in stoic philosophy, where they make no endeavor to understand anything beyond the life they currently lead. Everything happened in time, there was no need to fret on natural ends of life or consider what lies beyond. Stoics seem to hold weight in living rather than what follows.

Stoic types of characters seem to emerge from western genres or the “silent hero” type found in other literature and media. Even these characters tend to break from complete stoicism, though, harnessing violence and anger at some point throughout the piece (necessary to progression and literary purposes, of course). But people find something admirable about their coldness and so the archetype persists.

It seems that people more often attempt stoicism than achieve it. To exist completely rationally taxes a person who has previously lived on the edge of their emotions. It seems a type of path that one takes unintentionally from the start of their youth and then seeks a label for. To severe all ties to irrationality, to remain calm and indifferent in the face of all tragedy or irritation may strike some as intolerably inhuman. The philosophy suggests a lifestyle more libertarian than influential, though certainly some may find themselves putting aside their emotive ways for the stoic’s indifference.

02) Happiness v. Happiness.

According to a friend, happiness cannot be permanently found, but rather experienced as a state amongst a variety of others. I have no reason to argue, but it wasn’t the answer I was looking for. There was a pause in which she considered for a second more and supplied what I had been looking for: “I suppose what makes me happy, though, is being surrounded by things and people I love.” Of course, the conversation could have continued with my agitating habit of that previously mentioned ‘why’, but it carried off in another direction and I was left with that.

It would have been beneficial to know what ‘things’ encompassed. Her bed, her computer, her TV, her collection of clown figurines, her favorite book? What things and why place that value in them? I never asked, but it struck me as something of interest as I went forward to read the philosophies on happiness by Aristotle and Epicurus.

The main component of happiness to both Aristotle and Epicurus is philosophical contemplation. In terms of Socrates, asking why; in terms of Plato, crawling out of the cave into ‘the light’. This core is the only part of their theories that match up.

To Aristotle, happiness was not an emotion, but a state of being. The way in which one could be happy was to exercise their rationality and live virtuously. To be a philosopher was, then, the top tier of happiness. In this fashion, one could be rational and live by the orders of the law. The only method by which one could be a philosopher or attain happiness, though, was to live in a community that bred good values and ultimately lived a life that was in benefit of said community. While promoting the place of philosopher above politician, Aristotle made it pretty clear that one could not even become a philosopher without the placement of order in a society.

In this sense, Aristotle had a very clear cut vision of a person that could live in a way that defined happiness. Anyone born outside of order, born with a disorder or a disfigurement, could not reach where people of beauty and family values could. By this strict definition, not everyone born could become happy as Aristotle saw it.

Any individual happiness remained second to that of the community, which had to be great and accommodating as to breed happy individuals. This cyclical process seems more utopian than actual, and creates an elitist class, much like one seen in Plato’s Republic.

Epicurus deviates from Aristotle quite clearly, putting value in friendships for the sake of friendships and rejecting the societal structure found in cities like Athens. While holding that reflective existence defines happiness, Epicurus would rather do it for the sake of himself and his friends than for a community at large.

The thing that Epicurus is most clearly known for is his idea that happiness is the absence of pain. This statement also remains the one that people usually manipulate to serve their own purposes. An absence of pain does not mean the surplus of bodily pleasures.

It is also this idea that separate Epicurus from city societies, ones ruled by law and order. Under the pressures of law, one lives a life riddled with fear. They know that they cannot perform this or that action and carefully, always step around on eggshells because of the possibility of arrest. How can happiness spread while citizens shakily tip-toe under order’s imposing figure?

Epicurus decided to follow his own realization and moved with his friends out of a city atmosphere into something of a commune. The fact that Epicurus brought along his friends spoke to another aspect of his philosophy, which was the importance of friendship. Loyalty and closeness in friendship illustrated the just side of man and came naturally.

These concepts of happiness do not fall quite commonly in the ways of the modern world. Contemplation does not rank the highest on any poll of happiness. Pieces of their philosophies persist—the importance of friendship, the idea of community breeding values—but neither completely falls in line with modern life style. And neither did these concepts fall completely in line back in the days of ancient Greece.

Happiness remains a subjective piece of life, one that people will always seek an answer for, but I do not believe that any way holds truer than another. Some may find it in living a life of virtue, others may find it in items of sentimental value, others in travel or education or camaraderie. What happiness even is remains up for debate. Why we seek it over equality or freedom or progress remains a mystery. Or, maybe, it allows for those things. For if we think, following Epicurean and Aristotelian, will we eventually come to the realization that those take precedence over material or power?

01) Why and Truth.

“Why?”

I recall a conversation a few days ago that included that word quite often and the amused yet fatigued face that followed my persistence. The slight upward incline of the eyebrow, the flex of the pupil under consideration, the huff of the laugh that passed, how the chin cut left and away from me as I peered with my teeth leaving impressions in my lips. Then my sigh, my fingertips dragging across my knuckles in concession while I apologized, “I’m sorry, that’s getting irritating, isn’t it?”

That single word takes us to the beginning of something. It carries us not only to the start of a discussion, but also to the start of the idea expressed. Through the strings of our justifications, through the simplicity of deriving pleasure, we seek explanations that illustrate the truth rather than what we settle for.

More or less, this is the concept of philosophy.

The seeking of a truth to explain the actions we pursue and derive pleasure from falls back to the Socratic Discussion. The Socratic Discussion acts not as a means to an end, however. While the idea of seeking a truth may seem like finality, it persists for the opposite: to inspire thought. The constant asking of ‘why’ may frustrate, but it is a method to this seeking of logic and understanding. It inspires discussion, enlightenment, opening your mind to new possibilities and ideas. To seek an end to this process is to misunderstand its purpose.

One of his disciples stressed Socrates’ discussion to truth more. Plato wrote “The Allegory of the Cave” to reveal the blindness we carry with growing up—and our reluctance to eventually assimilate into the light, meaning the “truth”. As people grow up, they are typically exposed to a streamline view of the world, one shared by their parents. The world in which one grows up in tends to be the only reality that they see and the only one that they know to accept. In Plato’s allegory, people are chained far back in a cave, only able to see straight in front of them where shadows of things pass along a wall. Because these shadows become their single point of reference, the chained people accept them as reality of the actual objects. How are they to know something beyond those shadows if they only knew them all their lives?

When one is taken from their homely environment and forced into the light of the outside world, it can be too much. The sun blinds him; he can only register the shadows and reflections of things in the water, on walls, assimilating slowly. Eventually, however, he will be able to look at the world around him, and see more than just the smoky images he knew all his life. He will see the true forms of all those shadows. More directly, seeing past the metaphoric, he will figure out the “truth”.

Upon returning to the cave once he has seen the light and has done many things in the upper world, he looks to tell his fellow blinded men about the things that he has experienced. They laugh at him, call him ridiculous, and in the event that they could get up, kill him. Why? Who is he to come down there and tell them that their world is false? Why are they wrong and he is right? He becomes an exile in his own society—an outsider and a threat.

The allegory represents the ascension from viewing the world in a strict, narrow-minded fashion to open-mindedness and exploration. The ascended individual must aid others to achieve this level, or at least to show them the way. However, as represented in the individual’s return to the cave, the process can render no results—the “enlightened” can be rejected. This is perhaps why Plato later expresses that the leader of a city-state must be on the top echelon of philosophical capability, to direct others in this fashion. That lends itself to trouble, as this new leader is trying to lead people who do not understand where he comes from. How, in that light, can he stick around? There would be a revolt, a revolution, an usurping because the people‘s leader attempts to undermine their way of life. This is most likely why Plato’s form of government gave very little power to those underneath the ruling elite and military.

The allegory also represents the journey of education—the purpose of education. Education’s purpose is to bring people to the state of understanding, and ultimately the reason people are educated is to seek higher things in life than the cave, the menial, the content. We learn to explore, progress, and innovate. This, I believe, has been lost somewhere in the centuries that separate us from Plato.

In modern times, in my suburb of the United States, education is an enforced aspect of life. From a young age until eighteen (and beyond, now, with so many jobs requiring a college education), we attend classes building and building upon the general facts of life—the forms, the truth. Most of the time (we digress, ignore and manipulate certain facts to suit keeping the “innocence” and, perhaps, patriotism of the youngest). The thing that the educational system does not explain to us is why. The whys we get often relate to something dull and overused—your future career, everyone needs to know this! etc. The purist reason—to seek and understand the “truth”—has been diluted by what society deems more “practical”. Therefore, we restrict our focus. We become intent on only studying and caring for that which benefits us in the future. We narrow. We stagnate.

Not that I am promoting the ultimate knowledge of algebra, geometry, and astronomy that Plato seemed to believe people needed to achieve leadership and greatness. And even if schools were to create a class for philosophy, what's to say that student's wouldn't become equally bored with such a class? Perhaps the only way to ensure education comes to its correct purpose is to instill its value as a means to progression in children from the get go.

Enforcing education for the sake of education breeds apathy. Unless the student can conjure self-interest, or educators inform us of how it can help us grow, lessons fall on indifferent ears. It’s easier to simply fall into pattern than to escape the lines.

But, whatever makes you happy, right?

It’s funny how different our perceptions of happiness differ from the Aristotle, student of Plato. What he considered the ultimate good was philosophical contemplation, and that all goals should point to it. All activities should point to that happiness, though these don’t always bring pleasure. An example of these could be attending classes, which does not always elicit excitement for the person involved, but ultimately results in a life of greater happiness—in the event that the class provides something substantial.

I believe it would be a stretch to say that contemplation ranks as the highest form of happiness for people in this modern age. However, Aristotle’s words do hold true in that happiness is what is most typically sought by people nowadays—and most likely for as long as people have been around. Happiness becomes the ultimate goal, as well as the ultimate justification. Someone can say that any activity makes him happy and that is why they do it, making it acceptable to them—sans the infliction of pain on others, typically.

Aristotle argues that people can only reach happiness through rational action, given that we are rational beings. Exercising this rationality makes humans human; leading lives built on rational action allows them to be the best humans that they can be. A life built on rationality seems ideal, yet at the same time very restricting. Life on impulse and in the moment seems to suit some people than that which is thoroughly thought out. Rational thought, to Aristotle, aided (even created) happiness.

The idea that prudence and reflection supply the means to happiness takes roots in Plato and Socrates with the seeking of the “truth”. The thread runs clearly through the three most popular philosophers of the Greek era. This thread can be seen weaved into society as its played out today—the importance of education, the ultimate seeking of happiness—yet they have been weakened and blended more to suit the times as the years passed. Often, we can see just how deeply these things have been rooted in by asking people why they do things, because the easiest way to see into someone’s head remains quite the same since the day of the Socratic Discussion. Just ask why.