Archives for category: Philosophy

Reality can be boiled down to a simple equation: perception + experience. What we receive via our senses is interpreted by the knowledge we have gained by our experiences, and this outcome is what we call reality.

If, for example, I existed during the era of the Roman Empire, I would perceive the sun arcing across the sky, and the experiences of my upbringing would inform me that it was Apollo in his chariot. If I had never experienced anything to tell me differently, then that is how I would view reality. It’s not that I’m dumb or wrong, it’s that my reality is shaped by the things I have learned and by the things that I see (touch, taste, etc.) I wouldn’t believe Apollo was the sun if I never saw the sun nor felt its warmth in the first place, after all.

There is also the weight of the perception versus the weight of the experiences. Copernicus, to stick with the sun analogy, would have grown up under the pretense of a geocentric universe. However, his observations towards the stars overcame his learned experiences, and perception won out, creating the very first experience of a heliocentric universe.

The only reason we look on the Roman version of me as ridiculous for believing that the sun is the god Apollo is because our species has the collective experience of the Copernican revolution. It is shared in our media, literature, dialogues concerning the universe, etc. and so our experiences regarding the reality of the sun are quite weighty.

For example, if today I saw the sun blip from one part of the sky to another, seemingly teleporting across the horizon, the weight of my experiences would override my perception. I would assume I had fallen asleep, and woken up at a different time of day, or that it was a trick of the light that caused me to misperceive the solar blip. I would interpret these perceptions, and therefore reality, in such a way that would make sense with regard to the experiences I had accumulated over my lifetime. I would discount my perceptions as false, and carry on as if they had never happened, leaving reality unaltered.

However, if new experiences availed themselves to me, for example if I learned that others than myself had seen the blip, if it made the newspapers the next day, scientists were exclaiming bafflement, etc. then the weight of my original perception would increase and reality would shift to accommodate these new experiences.

One might argue that this subjective reality works only on an individual scale, and when joined into a collective, such as through peer-reviewing, or replicability, this would give a glimpse into a more objective reality. However, I would disagree and say that a collection of subjects is still subjective. The addition of new perceptions and a greater amount of experiences still falls within my original definition.

New ideas are frequently met with derision and ridicule because of that very same collective agreement of experiences among a society that dictate what we call reality. Copernicus and Galileo were keenly aware of that distrust of new versions of reality, even though today we dismiss those who condemned them as ignorant. Was it because the Church was afraid of losing its tenuous monopoly on the truth, or was it for the same reasons that today we would mock and scorn someone who adamantly claimed that leprechauns existed? Even potentially lock them up in the loony bin? Is it because there necessarily cannot be leprechauns, or is it because humanity has never had a weighty enough experience of leprechauns in order to accept them into our collective reality?

Even if you disagree with me, and believe that not only is there some kind of ultimate, objective reality, but human beings can access it (outside of our sensory perceptions and our experiences, (?)somehow(?)) then that is only because the experiences in your life have given such weight to that “objective” view of reality that your perception of my ideas does not hold up against them.

 

Nerds seem to think that because he’s the wisest being in their made-up nerd universe, what scriptwriters had him say automatically makes Yoda genuinely full of deep, penetrating wisdom.

Now, suppose there is a man in prison. He continuously makes escape attempts, each time being thwarted by the prison guards. He is not escaping, but neither is he not-not escaping. He is trying to escape. To get rid of “trying” as a concept is to eliminate will and intention on one side of the scale, or to ignore the contingencies of everyday life that might impede a successful attempt on the other.

We do not have foreknowledge of the future, so unless you believe Yoda is implying a fatalistic universe wherein success and failure are already preordained, then the next time you feel the need to bring up your nerd bullshit when somebody quite properly uses the term “try”, you need to shut the fuck up when grown folks is talking.

Many people assume that philosophy is actually pretty useless. It can really only get you a job teaching philosophy, and its practical uses are pretty much nil. You can’t eat it; it can’t move you about on four wheels, or even two wheels, so why bother?

If Socrates was a real person, he might have said that “the unexamined life is not worth living”. It is better to critically analyse yourself and your surroundings as it will lead to a more fulfilling existence than not doing these things. John Stuart Mill, someone who is definitely a real person, said:

It is indisputable that the being whose capacities of enjoyment are low, has the greatest chance of having them fully satisfied; and a highly endowed being will always feel that any happiness which he can look for, as the world is constituted, is imperfect. But he can learn to bear its imperfections, if they are at all bearable; and they will not make him envy the being who is indeed unconscious of the imperfections, but only because he feels not at all the good which those imperfections qualify.

It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the fool, or the pig, is of a different opinion, it is only because they only know their own side of the question.

Being able to think critically, not only about yourself but about the world, can have some practical effects as well, such as the ability to engage in political debate or understand social issues that might pertain to your community or yourself. But perhaps this is a little too pretentious. There are those who would argue that the simple life has its own merits, and that being able to enjoy a cold beer and a football game is the greater experience over fretting over the validity of escapism.

If one accepts that scientific pursuit is of value, such as finding out which elements make up a rock on the moon, then perhaps one might expect there to be value in questioning why there are rocks on the moon in the first place. Martin Heidegger’s question, “Why are there essents (translation: things that exist) rather than nothing?” is described as being the original philosophical question. Why even is there a universe wherein rocks and moons can exist? If curiosity in regards to the material universe is valid outside of the drive for profits, then it follows that curiosity in regards to other aspects of the universe is equally valid.

Maybe a materialist would argue that there cannot be anything other than an empirical universe and so to question why things are is meaningless, but Karl Jaspers raises an interesting counterpoint:

“If by “world” I mean the sum of all that cognitive orientation can reveal to me as cogently knowable for everyone, the question arises whether the being of the world is all there is.”

 It is a little naïve and narcissistic to think that only what we can experience with our heavily flawed sensory organs, or comprehend within the limits of our human intellect, is all that there can possibly be within this universe. Friedrich Nietzsche puts it even less politely:

“Would it not be rather probable that, conversely, precisely the most superficial and external aspect of existence—what is most apparent, its skin and sensualization—would be grasped first—and might even be the only thing that allowed itself to be grasped? A “scientific” interpretation of the world, as you understand it, might therefore still be one of the most stupid of all possible interpretations of the world, meaning that it be one of the poorest in meaning.”

 I do appreciate a man who flat out calls science stupid.

But maybe you reject metaphysics. Maybe this is all there is, or you subscribe to the belief that if we can’t experience it, or it doesn’t materially affect the universe in such a way that we can measure it, then it is, again, meaningless and pointless to discuss. Of course this doesn’t take into account that we could possibly experience it in some way outside of our sensory or intellectual selves (for example the accumulation of Karma, perhaps, which affects us but not in a way that we would ever be able to materially measure) but let’s just ignore that point for now. Let’s say this is all there is.

Do you think that it’s important to discuss what’s good and bad? Or even to come up with an idea as to what “good” even means? Heidegger agrees that there is no imminent practical use of philosophy, but says, “We cannot do anything with philosophy, [but] might not philosophy, if we concern ourselves with it, do something with us?” Adam Smith was a philosopher of economics, from whence we obtained capitalism which now dictates how our entire world is run. Karl Marx and John Maynard Keynes have offered their own views on the economy which have affected the world in their own significant ways as well. The philosophy of René Descartes dictates how we view our sense of self: as a discrete subject separate from the rest of the universe. Philosophy can change entire paradigms.

But maybe changing the world still isn’t good enough. You want a practical job that’s not a professor. Something with prestige. Plato argues that philosophy isn’t only practical, but it is the ideal for leadership. He advocates that any type of ruler should be a philosopher in its most literal sense, as a lover of knowledge. A lover of knowledge would endlessly pursue it, and in doing so would be able to apply any knowledge gained to the society underneath him or her. With knowledge as one’s passion, the love of power would not exist, and there would be a disdain for rule that the philosopher would possess: another quality for governance that Plato found necessary.

So start a revolution based off of The Republic, and then your philosophy major can finally net you a ballin’ career path… which, um… upon reflection, still doesn’t actually pay all that well.