1. On Philosophy--
Bertrand Russell states in “The Value of Philosophy” that
philosophy is used for the sake of approximate knowledge; in his own words, it
“aims primarily at knowledge.” However, knowledge based on certainties and
facts is not the type to which he is referring. Russell explains that
philosophy aims to better understand the unity and framework that holds
sciences together. Its purpose is not to provide a definite answer or to reach
some kind of resolution, but instead to make an attempt to understand the mysteries and causal forces that propel
us through our human experience. My philosophical experience has most certainly
confirmed this claim that Russell makes. In Plato’s “Apology: Defence of
Socrates,” Socrates justifies his attempts to expose the “pretensions to
knowledge” and ignorance of ‘knowledgeable’ individuals. By the mere act of
questioning established knowledge (and perhaps rocking the existential boat),
Socrates is put on trial and killed. The most important aspect of his philosophy
was indeed this “questioning” (“Apology: Defence of Socrates” 23a). Socrates tried
to teach his fellow Athenians that thinking critically and examining our
systems of thought and belief serves our intellect better than arrogance on any
subject matter. At first, this acknowledgement of uncertainty is something that
frustrated me; now I see that the uncertainty is the very essence of philosophy.
Socrates--the martyr--did his best to instill his passion for philosophy and
thought in his contemporaries. David Hume made another compelling argument for
the sake of philosophy in his discussion “Of Skepticism with Regard to the
Senses.” Although he does not argue for philosophy on the whole, his
perspective offers an important insight to our experience. The senses, Hume
claims, are but tools to convey “impressions of very existences by a kind of
fallacy and illusion.” The greater implication in his statement is that there
are realms of consciousness or understanding that go beyond what we are able to
perceive sensibly; there is a reality that our senses are only able to hint at.
Enter PHILOSOPHY. It is a reasonable,
logical, and ‘scientific’ approach to attempting
to understand the meta-mind-reality we encounter with intellect, curiosity and
consciousness. Even though philosophers must admit to ultimate uncertainty, it
is the uncertainty that allows philosophy to evolve alongside our intellect. Philosophy
allows us to critically examine our own pretensions to knowledge, and at least
try to better understand the mysterious universe of experience in which we find
ourselves wondering.
2. On science--
Scientism is a belief or practice in which the authority of
science is placed above that of philosophy, religion, morality, the arts, et
cetera. David Armstrong supports this doctrine because he genuinely believes
that science has a greater capacity for reaching intellectual consensus
(Armstrong, “The Nature of Mind”). There is good reason for this. Armstrong argues,
“The best clue we have to the nature of the mind is furnished by the discoveries
and hypotheses of modern science…” Before any advancement in scientific
methodology, and well before the establishment of a scientific community,
“inquiry proceeded, as it were, in the dark.” According to Armstrong, science
is the best way to achieve consensus on controversial ideas, and consensus is
paramount to the formulation of an established truth or science. While religion
or morality can alter human perception, science provides insight into the
structure or fabric of the reality in which we exist. Because science is
predicated on empirical data, observation, and repetition over time, it is
better suited to establish a consensus on the nature of man and our experience.
David Hume makes similar claims in his “Enquiry Concerning Human
Understanding.” In section four, Hume explains that knowledge is based on prior
experience or observation; knowledge of something is not realized until the
event upon which the knowledge is predicated has occurred. To prove this fact,
Hume argues the inability of one to determine the effect of a specific cause if
he or she has not already experienced or observed it. One cannot make a
decision (or predict the effect of any cause) based on knowledge “without the
assistance of observation and experience.” It is this very principle, Hume
claims, that has kept philosophers from remarking upon the “ultimate cause of
any natural operation, or [showing] distinctly the action of that power, which
produces any single effect in the universe.” This is a problem for science, but
also for us philosophers. How are we to formulate even an approximate knowledge
about anything if we have no prior understanding or experience of it? Wesley Salmon examines this in “The Problem
of Induction.” Salmon exposes the uniformity principle upon which most science
is dependent. It is necessary scientifically to observe or experience a
phenomenon in order for it to become knowledge, and to be accepted as
established knowledge. However, this type of knowledge cannot be formed in
regards to an unobserved fact or phenomenon—this is the problem of induction.
Salmon asserts that there is no such thing as ‘knowledge’ when it comes to
dealing with unobserved fact; this assumption that we make based on science and
our experience is called ‘belief.’ Because accurate knowledge of an unobserved
event or phenomenon is impossible to attain, it is impossible to ‘know’ with
any certainty that one will experience a distinct or predictable outcome. This
makes sense until we reexamine this statement from a scientific perspective.
Induction and the assumption of uniformity (or that history will repeat itself)
is highly problematic for science. Science depends on past experience and
patterns that emerge from observed phenomena. Technically speaking, science is
a pretense to knowledge. Even with scientific evidence to support a claim,
science does not constitute knowledge. Science does its best to provide the
evidence and reasoning for believing
a ‘fact,’ but it does not constitute knowledge. Salmon comments, “A ‘science’
that consisted of no more than a mere summary of the results of direct
observation would not deserve the name.” Given the circumstances and our human
limitations to knowledge, I would wager that science is still our best bet
towards understanding the nature of our experience. Science, even if
compromised by the assumption of uniformity and plagued by the problem of
induction, still offers us a better understanding of cause and effect, and
similar past events. It would serve us philosophically and otherwise to admit
and fully understand, though, that even science stems from ‘beliefs.’ In other
words, we know even less than we thought!
3. On the existence of evil--
I would like to argue against the existence of evil. In
“God, Evil and the Best of All Possible Worlds,” Gottfried Leibniz asserts that
there is such a thing as a ‘necessary evil.’ Although he denies that God “chose
poorly” by creating a world with evil in it, he explains that perhaps God
created evil for the sake of a “greater good.” He references St. Augustine and
Thomas Aquinas, contending that it is perfectly understandable that an
“imperfection in the part may be required for a greater perfection in the
whole.” Now, I don’t wish to speak ill of the experience or opinions of
Leibniz, but I would venture so far as to say that his conclusions about the
purpose of evil and its presence in our experience depend on beliefs about God
as a being, and about God’s intentions. Leibniz assumes that God is perfect,
and therefore would create the perfect world—even if it meant there were
suffering in it. By allowing for evil to exist, perhaps one fosters the
creation or experience of ‘good’ in response to ‘evil.’ I believe there is
something to be said about balance in the universe, though I am not convinced
by his reasoning that evil is necessary for the existence of good, or a
‘greater good.’ Russell refutes the argument of design for the exact same
reason Leibniz subscribed to it. In his “Argument from Design,” Russell
attributes the apparent lack of design and existence of evil to the fact that
there is not a perfect God responsible for the creation of our experience. Life
evolves and does what it must to survive, and the resulting experience is
judged as “evil.” Hume approximates my own stance on the existence of evil in
his “Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.” Philo, one of his characters,
states that true nature is neither good nor evil, and that God (or whatever
supreme being) is or would be indifferent to good and evil. Instead, Philo
describes a natural state of balance, in which events occur that can be judged
as “good” or “evil;” however to do so is simply choosing the way in which to
relate to these events. Nature, as it exists naturally, is an ebb and flow of
events. ‘Good’ and ‘evil’ are simply human reactions to the stimuli from one
such event. Hume’s view (as expressed by Philo) seems to be the most congruent
with objective experience, or what I would refer to as ‘reality.’ Evil and good
are just ideas; they do not exist outside of the framework of a conscious,
judgmental mind. Balance is another thing all together—“balance” is a better
way of looking at the ups and downs of our experiences. In my opinion, no human
acts unjustly based upon his or her individual experience; in fact, nothing in
nature acts unjustly, or outside of what he or she is able to justify. But one
conscious being might judge the acts of another as evil because of the way
those actions affect others. I like to think of life as a pond into which
stones are constantly thrown… A conscious, objective person would not judge the
ripples as good or evil, but simply accept them for what they are, as they are.
I would postulate that good and evil do not exist, but sensations and human reactions
to stimuli do exist. It is the way we process these stimuli, and relate to each
other and reality that shape our perception of “good” and “evil.”
4. On human identity--
Identity—“who we are”—is one profound topic. As far as my
own identity is concerned, I have established a sense of ‘self,’ but I am not
sure what it is that I am. A mind? A
computer? A living organism, yet also a thinking organism? Over the course of
our readings, there were several stances on identity worth mentioning, and I’d
like to address those here. First, I would like to acknowledge Searle and his concept
of intentionality. This force of will that we exert on our surroundings and
others rules out the possibility that humans (or our minds) are simply
machines. Searle argues that the human mind is comparable to a computer, and
that a computer can in fact think. But we humans are not just computers;
computers lack something that is natural to a human—“intentionality,” as Searle
puts it. Even though a computer could be created to replicate processes of the
human mind, and even though the cause-and-effect events in the mind could be
duplicated, the “causal powers” of intentionality and our own distinct
experiences are more responsible for our perceived identity. These causes of
our experience go beyond programming, or what we might refer to as ‘instinct,’
or ‘human nature.’ It is intentionality and the very nature of choice that
allows us to participate in the formation of an ‘identity.’ So, we are somewhat
machine like in the sense that our minds have the capacity to compute and
process information, but our identity seems to stem from something deeper than
programming and input stimuli. Derek Parfit claims that identity is dependent
upon psychological continuity and connectedness, though connectedness is most
responsible for our “self-survival” or maintained sense of self. Our identity
can change depending on our experience; Parfit uses Wiggins’ case to illustrate
this point, and how connectedness is essential to defining our sense of self.
If one experiences an event-stimulus in which some perceived aspect of the self
is changed (either intentionally or reactively), the event is comparable to
fission (Wiggins’ case). During this fission, whether the stimulus is internal
or external, one may realize a disparity between the established identity and
the resulting one. Maintaining a connection between these ‘different’ selves
over the course of one’s experience is what shapes his or her sense of
identity. Parfit emphasizes that this connectedness, or relation to oneself
over time, is the essence of the identity that we experience. This self or
identity is constantly undergoing fissions (and fusions arguably) that mold our
perception of it; but maintaining the psychological connection from fission to
fission is responsible for the “survival” of any one “self” of ours that we
experience. This fact reveals the perpetual evolution of our individual self
and identity, and allows us to see ourselves more objectively. This truth has
played a fundamental role in my understanding of my own identity. Lastly,
Descartes—a man after my own heart. Descartes ponders his true essence in his second
Meditation dealing with the nature of the human mind. Descartes can come to
terms with the fact that he is, but
he has trouble deciphering the I in
“I am.” He is able to deduce that he exists, and that he is something—“I am a
thing that thinks,” he says. He spends a fair amount of time assessing ways in
which he can prove the extent of his identity in relation to objects, thoughts
and “imperfect” mental inspection. After all of this thought still, he arrives
at his conclusion that by considering ways in which he is able to “grasp” a
concept or physical object, he is able to better grasp and reveal to himself
the nature of his own mind. Obviously, the nature of self and identity is complex,
but Descartes reduces himself to nothing but his thoughts, and therein realizes
his essence. “I think therefore I am.” In my humble philosophical opinion,
there is no greater truth. We are conscious beings, capable of thought beyond
what we perceive. We have the ability to think with an awareness about
ourselves, and formulate relative opinions based on our own experience with
this ‘self.’ This is the nature of our identity—our own thoughts and reactions
to a ‘self’ that we exist as and
simultaneously outside of. Because of
our consciousness and self-awareness, we are able to comprehend that we are
something…but the essence of “what we are,” this identity, is created, evolved,
and simultaneously experienced in the whirlwind of our life experience. Are we
our minds? Yes, but in addition to something else—the will, intentionality,
consciousness, and desire to express “who we are”—these all play a part in the
symphony of our identity. At least, I think. Descartes said in his infinite
wisdom, “My mind enjoys wandering, and it won’t confine itself to the truth. I
will therefore loosen the reins for now so that later, when the time is right,
I will be able to control my mind more easily.”
