Earth Song

 

Earth Song

 

Earth is that your voice I hear?

Are you whispering to me?

Do I feel your soul in mine?

Is your mind in my mind?

 

I sense your wide expanse

Your molten heart

Your halo of air

Your oceans, mountains and life

 

You sing to me of ancient times

You revolve in giddy joy

But you know you are fading fast

You know things have to change

 

You gave birth to us

You nurtured us on our way

But now we’re a rash on your face

We are slowly taking your life

 

You don’t want to die I know

You don’t want to be a barren place

You want to stay green and blue

You want to enjoy what you made

 

But now we have turned on you

We have fouled our only home

We have poisoned the sky

We have left you to wither and die

 

Earth is that your voice I hear?

Do I feel your soft touch on my face?

You speak to me of hope and fear

You want me to know my place

 

(Musical break)

 

Oh Earth I think I love you!

You twirling bright orb in space

At last I’ve found my love for you

I only hope it’s not too late

 

I hope I can ease your pain

I want to make bright your days

I don’t want to see you curl up and die

And leave a void in your place

 

Earth can you ever forgive me?

I know I have done you wrong

Please come back to help me

I promise I won’t destroy you again  

 

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Hazy Babies (lyrics)

Hazy Babies

 

I was driving alone along route 95

Lights were flashing and I started to dive

I told you I loved you and you said you loved me

And the hazy babies were nausea clothed

 

Oh-oh-oh don’t go-oh-oh

Don’t go oh please don’t go!

 

I was reading a book that made no sense

That’s when I saw a bird-cat jump the fence

I kissed you and held you and said your name

And the lazy babies were nausea clothed

 

Oh-oh-oh don’t go-oh-oh

Don’t go oh please don’t go!

 

I was taking a shower in a blizzard of dust

Everything was quiet in a town made of rust

You told me to wait till you returned to me

And the crazy babies were nausea clothed

 

Oh-oh-oh don’t go-oh-oh

Don’t go oh please don’t go!

 

I was swimming in gold on a rapier day

The sky was screaming to stay away

I couldn’t find you as I searched the streets

And the blazing babies were nausea clothed

 

Oh-oh-oh don’t go-oh-oh

Don’t go oh please don’t go!

 

I was falling through time on a flaming beach

I’d lost my way and had no more to teach

I saw you floating on a corner at noon

And the fading babies were nausea clothed

 

Oh-oh-oh don’t go-oh-oh

Don’t go oh please don’t go!

 

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Song

Song

 

I have just stopped taking voice lessons with my esteemed teacher Nicole, after two and a half years. She took me from lamentable singer to not-too-bad performer, even if I say so myself. After a year of intense coaching and practice I achieved my goals, rather to my surprise. We then formed a duo named The Duetones and together have recorded about 200 videos (about 150 different songs—there are repeats of some). They range from ballads to blues to rock to pop and everything in between—all my favorite songs basically. That means I had to learn all those songs, from top to bottom. I could expatiate on each of them at some length. In addition, at Nicole’s prompting, I began writing songs and now have about 60 of my own compositions. Let me tell you, this isn’t easy: it’s a completely different way of writing. This is an object lesson in what you can do if you try, even at the age of 70.

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No More Philosophy

No More Philosophy

 

Readers may have noticed a cessation in the philosophical essays I have been posting on this blog. The reason for this is that I have nothing further to say. For the past several years I have been writing down my philosophical thoughts and publishing them here. I never intended to do this indefinitely, but the thoughts kept coming. On a number of occasions I felt the well was drying up, but I was wrong; now I think I have reached the end of the line. I am quite happy about this, because writing philosophy is a burden that interferes with other things. I just finished reading Darwin’s The Voyage of the Beagle and The Origin of Species, both immensely worth reading, and writing philosophy would have interfered with this. I now feel I have said all that I want and need to say about philosophical subjects, so I am perfectly content to write no more philosophy (I have been doing it for nearly fifty years). I think I have said enough, and more than most people can handle.

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Knowledge and Belief

 

 

Knowledge and Belief

 

The traditional analysis of knowledge as true justified belief encourages the following picture (though it doesn’t strictly entail it): there is a common psychological element to knowledge and non-knowledge, which we can call “belief”, and knowledge is the result of supplementing this element with further conditions that together add up to knowledge properly so called. Thus when we combine this common element with truth and justification the upshot is an item of knowledge; the element itself can exist quite independently of knowledge, and often does. For example, beliefs can exist as a consequence of desires and be neither true nor rationally justified, as in “wishful thinking”. This psychological state has no intrinsic connection to knowledge, being capable of existing in the absence of the conditions that lead to knowledge. It is not in the nature of belief to constitute knowledge; there could be a whole system of beliefs none of which count as knowing anything. Beliefs have no intrinsic connection to truth either: they are the same whether true or false—a false belief is just as much a belief as a true belief is. Beliefs that result from faith, or any other irrational source, are no different from beliefs that meet the highest standards of epistemic warrant. Religious belief is just as much real belief as scientific belief is: rational justification is externalto the nature of belief as such. This is why belief can never be sufficient for knowledge, no matter what kind of belief it may be—external conditions need to be superadded. If you were to pluck a belief from a context of wishful thinking and provide it with a proper justification, you would end up with knowledge, since no (true) belief is inherently prohibited form counting as knowledge; it all depends on further extrinsic conditions. Belief itself is knowledge-neutral, rationality-indifferent. That is why knowledge must be analyzed as belief plus truth and justification. To put it differently, belief is a natural psychological kind that crops up uniformly in contexts both rational and irrational. The psychological context never fixes the very nature of the state in question.

            But why should we adopt this view? Why can’t the history of a belief operate to fix its identity? Why can’t rational belief be a different kind of thing from irrational belief? Plato contrasted knowledge and opinion, assuming that these were antithetical types of mental state; knowledge isn’t opinion plus some. It isn’t opinion at all—it’s knowledge. When reason operates to produce knowledge it is operating in a way that generates a distinctive kind of psychological state, not merely the kind of state that can be produced by forces that are the opposite of reason—the kind that generally lead to error, ignorance, insanity, and sheer stupidity. Stupid belief can never be the core of genuine knowledge. The history of a belief shapes the belief; it isn’t a free-floating mental atom capable of any old kind of history. The belief is embedded in a psychological formation, and its nature reflects this embedding. The embedding can be rational or irrational, so that we get two kinds of beliefs not a single kind that can be supplemented in various ways. It is like sex in animals: the animal can be male or female, but it can never be neutral between these two options. Intuitively, a rational belief that counts as knowledge provides insight into the world—a certain transparent connection to reality—while irrational belief is caught up in the inner workings of the psyche (wishes, fears, neuroses). So knowledge is not rightly conceived as a composite of a rationality-neutral element called “belief” plus the extra conditions of truth and justification. The belief is already imbued with rationality and in paradigm cases with truth: it is a case of rational-belief (note the hyphen) not belief that is made rational by its contingent history or context. It would be good to have a word for this kind of belief (analogous to “mare” or “vixen”) but in fact no such word seems to exist; we just speak indiscriminately of “belief” (or “opinion”, “conviction”, and “commitment”). Of course, it is true that both sorts of psychological state share certain important characteristics, such as a connection to action and an inner feeling of being persuaded; but that shouldn’t stop us from registering the important respect in which they differ—namely, their connection to the rational faculties. There is really all the difference in the world between a belief that results from rash and foolish fantasy and a belief that results from carefully considered rational judgment; indeed, we should wonder why we choose to neglect this distinction in our ordinary talk of “belief”. The term is far too broad, far too inclusive. It distorts our conception of knowledge to suppose that knowledge can incorporate any old type of belief, as if even the wildest belief could find a home inside an instance of knowledge. In fact knowledge can only contain beliefs of the right sort (that have the right stuff)—the pure and noble kind, as we might say. Knowledge comprises beliefs only of the “knowledgey” kind, if I may be excused the adverbial neologism.

            This is why we have mixed reactions to certain sorts of possible case, e.g. a person who forms a belief by sheer wishful thinking but who subsequently comes across some supporting evidence for her belief. Does such a person really know the proposition in question? What if the evidence plays no causal role in sustaining the belief, the wish carrying all the weight? In such a case an attribution of knowledge seems suspect simply because the subject is not rationally motivated: she has the wrong kind of belief to form the core of the state of knowing; she would believe the same thing even if no evidence had ever come into her possession. We want the would-be knower to form her beliefs by a rational procedure, i.e. to have rational-beliefs. It is a sad fact that beliefs can depart from this admirable norm, but in attributions of knowledge we require that the belief in question should measure up to certain rational standards—and not just have a rational etiology but also have a rational nature. We want beliefs that have rationality built into them. This is why we accord a special kind of respect to beliefs that cannot fail to count as knowledge, such as beliefs about one’s own mind or elementary logic or anything else that admits of certainty. And the more likely it is for a belief to amount to knowledge the more value it has for us—the better it is qua belief. Ideally, we would like to have all our beliefs to be so rational that knowledge is guaranteed, so that no beliefs could be of the defective kind exemplified by wishful thinking. Then we could say simply that knowledge is to be analyzed as belief in that sense—once you are in that psychological state you are automatically in a state of knowledge. Things get complicated only because we are also capable of false and unjustified beliefs; but that is our fault, so to speak, not a consequence of the nature of knowledge as such. Knowledge itself is really just belief—of a special sort (the “knowledgey” sort). There is a type of belief that is such that anything of that type will be a case of knowledge—in this sense knowing is a psychological fact. We could analyze “x knows that p” as “x has a belief that p of type T”, where “T” describes the special kind of belief I am referring to. Knowledge is thus not a composite of some perfectly general state of belief and certain extra non-psychological conditions; psychology should be expanded to allow for a special class of belief states.[1]

            The spirit of this view might remind us of so-called disjunctive views of perceptual experience. The thought here is that there is no common psychological element between a veridical and a hallucinatory experience: there are two types of state that we call by the same name, viz. “experience”—there is nothing like a sense- datum that is shared by both types of so-called experience. Similarly, there is no unitary state called “belief” as between rational belief and irrational belief—or, more cautiously, it is wrong to assume a single natural kind denoted by the word “belief”. Rather, very different kinds of state fall under the umbrella term “belief” (for intelligible reasons), and we should firmly distinguish these states. The state of belief of the wishful thinking religionist is really quite different from that of the evidence-guided scientist: the former is in a psychological state of a different type from that of the latter (one might be tempted to call it “make-believe”). The religionist is oblivious to evidence and rational argument; the scientist is exquisitely sensitive to such considerations. The will is involved in the former but not the latter (the “leap of faith”). So we might favor a disjunctive view of the concept of belief: so-called beliefs can be either of the fantasy-driven type or of the reason-driven type–and these types are different in their history, their hold on the mind, and their functional characteristics (though similar in certain ways). We do well to mark the difference plainly and not assume a deep similarity or identity. There are good beliefs and bad ones, impostor beliefs and the genuine article (cf. fool’s gold and real gold). We shouldn’t be misled by the superficial form of our talk about belief (as we shouldn’t be about our talk of desire[2]) into assuming more similarity than there actually is. In particular, we shouldn’t run away with the idea that knowledge is a compound state with a belief constituent that is exactly the same as that which can occur completely outside of cases of knowledge or even elementary rationality. The reasons for belief shape the nature of belief; whether a belief is justified affects the inner character of the belief. Thus our picture of knowledge changes once we recognize that knowledge springs from a particular type of belief: now we see it as more unified than it would be if composed of disparate elements combined together—as if the belief element had nothing intrinsically to do with knowledge until brought into proximity with the other elements. The belief element (if that is the word) is already steeped in justification and hence truth-oriented; it doesn’t need a dollop of these ingredients drawn from elsewhere. Knowledge is really part of the psychological reality of belief (of the type that can lead to knowledge anyway). We could even say that knowledge just is belief—once we appreciate the true nature of belief. There is no distinction between knowledge and belief when it comes to certain subject matters (e.g. one’s own conscious thoughts), and the case is not that different in cases where fallibility is a possibility. At any rate, beliefs that count as knowledge are intrinsically cut out for the job. Knowledge is therefore a more closely knit phenomenon than we have tended to suppose, less conjunctive in its essence. It is not a tripartite thing.[3]

 

[1] We could compare this position to externalism about mental content: psychology needs to be expanded to include externally individuated content and not be restricted to content narrowly individuated. Similarly, beliefs need to be seen as incorporating their context within the mind, with rationality entering into their nature (or not as the case may be). 

[2] We can speak of moral desires but it would obviously be quite wrong to assimilate these to other sorts of desire.

[3] Even if the concept of knowledge were a tripartite thing, consisting of three separate and independent concepts, it would not follow that knowledge itself (the phenomenon) is a tripartite thing; ontologically, knowledge can be regarded as essentially unitary. The gap between knowledge and belief is not as large as traditional thinking suggests.

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Joshua Katz

Joshua Katz

 

Let’s be clear, the treatment of Professor Joshua Katz is just the latest example of American stupidity, hysteria, callousness, violence, cowardice, and general vileness to occur in American universities. How people can justify this evil is beyond me. As for his so-called friends—the ones who ran for the hills for rather obvious political and popularity reasons—they are most contemptible of all. And notice that students are among the worst offenders here, immature fools that they are. All this should be condemned as strongly as the latest mass killing in America. It’s just the American psyche doing what it has always done—destroy and destroy again–and always with the same self-congratulatory façade. It makes you sick.

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Ed Erwin (1937-2022)

Ed was a genuinely good man–and reviled for it. He was tough and gentle at the same time. He was also an exceptionally good philosopher. 

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Holism and Existence

 

 

Holism and Existence

 

Holism is an ontological doctrine: it says that the existence, nature and identity of individual things depend on their place in a wider whole consisting of other individual things. To be a certain entity is to stand in a network of related entities: the being of one thing is bound up with the being of other things existing in the same totality. Thus we cannot analyze a whole into parts that have an existence and identity independently of the whole to which they belong. The whole is reflected in the individuals that make it up. I will argue that no such doctrine can possibly be true, because it leads to absurd consequences.

            Let’s first consider the strongest possible form of holism, which I will call cosmic holism. This is the doctrine that everything in the universe has a nature that includes every other thing: nothing can exist without all the other things in the universe existing (think Hegel). This is certainly an extreme doctrine and not one with any immediate plausibility, but it may be said that we should be open to the possibility that common sense (and science) are simply wrong about the nature of things—we are under an “illusion of plurality”. Really, everything is connected to everything else, inextricably so. What is the argument against such a view? Here is one argument: if that were so, nothing could come into existence unless everything came into existence with it. That would mean, for example, that an atom of hydrogen couldn’t come existence at the time of the big bang unless dinosaurs came into existence at the same time, since hydrogen atoms and dinosaurs depend on each other for their existence according to cosmic holism. But that seems completely false: things come into existence in a temporal sequence, some before others. Holism implies that everything must come into existence simultaneously, since the identity of any one thing is bound up with the identity of every other thing. Cosmic holism precludes sequential coming-into-existence. In fact it leads to the idea that there has to be a God that creates everything simultaneously, since the being of every individual thing is bound up (allegedly) with the being of every other thing. So cosmic holism looks to have a problem with history—with things coming to exist at different times. It ties the existence of things too closely to the existence of other things, thus ruling out the emergence of things over time.

            Now consider conceptual holism: the doctrine that concepts join together to form indissoluble wholes. Each concept owes its identity to the other concepts with which it shares a conceptual scheme. Again, we have a problem with respect to development over time: you can’t have one concept at time t without having all your concepts at t. For the identity of a particular concept is fixed by all the concepts that are possessed by the thinker in question at a given time. So that implies that a thinker must acquire all his concepts at the same time: now no concepts, now all concepts! You can’t acquire your concepts over time, one after the other. Once all the concepts are in place they determine the identity of any concept in the whole set, so any individual concept cannot be possessed without the possession of the whole set of concepts. But surely we can acquire our concepts over time in such a way that earlier concepts can be possessed before later ones are. And here is a second problem: if each concept has its identity fixed by the whole of which it is a part, then won’t each concept end up being identical to every other concept? For the same whole fixes the identity of each concept: each concept has its content determined by the whole of which it is a part, but there is only one whole, so each concept must have the same content. Only if we deny conceptual holism can this consequence be avoided: there has to be something about each concept that is independent of the whole, in which case concept identity is not fixed holistically. In fact, the very idea of concepts as parts of a larger whole collapses under conceptual holism, since each concept is said to be individuated by the whole of which it is a part—it has no other identity. But parts can never be identical to wholes. The trouble is that holism leads to the dissolution of the individual concept into the whole of which is held to be a part. The only way to avoid this consequence is to weaken the holism so that it allows some independent identity to the individual concept, but then we have abandoned the doctrine. We are now contemplating some sort of hybrid theory according to which a concept has its own specific atomic identity and a penumbra of holistically determined content. That is a very strange animal, part discrete beast and part herd.

            Finally, consider causal holism: the doctrine that causation works holistically, so that a given cause always includes a wider totality of causes. Suppose we claim that every cause in a certain domain includes every other cause in that domain: then it will follow that every cause is identical to the same totality of causes (e.g. every action is caused by the entirety of a person’s psychological state). But how can different effects have the same cause? Won’t we end up saying that the effects are identical too? Again, in order to preserve some individuality in the cause we will need to qualify the holism, i.e. abandon it. There must be something about the cause that is not fixed by the whole of which it is a part. And won’t that be the cause in question? Holism inevitably leads to the collapse of individuality—the merging of the individual into the crowd. Of course, the individual may play a role in the crowd, but it doesn’t follow that its very identity is determined by the whole in which it plays that role. Atoms play roles in larger wholes too, but they are still atoms. There is always more to an individual thing than the role it plays in the groups to which it belongs—whether it is a physical atom, a human being, or a concept.

            It follows that reality can always be divided into parts: it is always analyzable into autonomous units. Reality is always a synthesis of separable entities (or just a collection). It never consists of indivisible wholes whose parts (sic) have their identity fixed by the whole. That idea is ultimately incoherent. Holism is impossible.[1]

 

Colin McGinn

[1] There was a time when the “holism of the mental” was a favored doctrine, though it never progressed much beyond metaphor. No one ever mentioned that this was a more limited version of Hegelian metaphysics, but the logic of both is the same. Here I have stated the doctrine sharply and literally with a view to reductio. The upshot is that analysis is the proper way to proceed in science and philosophy. Reality is a multiplicity not a seamless unity.

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