Elicitism

Elicitism

I will state what I think is the correct account of knowledge, to be set beside empiricism and rationalism. All concepts and perceptual impressions are innately based; what is not innate is their combinations. It is like language: the basic lexicon is innate, as are the basic rules of grammar; what is not innate are the specific combinations that are constructed over time. These elements are not derived or copied from external objects; neither are concepts mere copies of sense impressions. Empirical knowledge, so called, arises from causal interactions between the innate cognitive system and objective states of affairs. A priori knowledge does not arise in this way, but in some way difficult to understand. The relation between constituents of knowledge and external objects is one of elicitation not similarity (“faint copies”). The external stimulus elicits the innately determined scheme so as to direct action. Effective action does not require an identity of nature between inner and outer but only a kind of abstract isomorphism. We can compare the internal scheme with overt behavior in that both are innately based and not derived by copying from outer stimuli. Reflex behavior is innately determined, elicited by external stimuli, and not structurally or qualitatively similar to the eliciting stimulus; rather, there is a kind of isomorphism between the two—a lawful connection. Evolution requires no more. It would be attractive to suppose that the internal representations result from the internalization of ancient behavioral responses, but such a theory seems hard to maintain. Still, the parallel exists: innate reactions triggered by external stimuli in the absence of any copying relation. The knowledge system is thus a mixture of rationalist elements (innate mental representations) and knowledge-producing interactions with the external world (plus whatever process leads to a priori knowledge). The constituents of knowledge are not “derived” from the objects of knowledge but original elements of the mind: their nature is not fixed by the nature of the objects that elicit them. I call this theory (really, statement of fact) “elicitism”, because it stresses that the relation between knowledge and its objects is that of elicitation not duplication, much like the relation between stimulus and behavioral response. In fact, there is nothing to stop us from speaking of psychological responses as a type of behavior, viz. mental behavior (or action). Whatever truth there is in classical empiricism (not much) is contained in this theory (statement of fact). In short: knowledge is the result of an innate cognitive system plus a relation of elicitation.[1]

[1] If this sounds like a truism, it is intended to be.

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Locke, Hume, and Mystery

Locke, Hume, and Mystery

Both Locke and Hume were mysterians. Locke stressed the limits of knowledge obtainable by the senses, this being the only basis for human knowledge; he thought that solidity, for example, has a nature we cannot know. Matter in general is a mystery for Locke. Hume focused on causation, but he too maintained that this aspect of the world transcends human knowledge. But curiously, neither philosopher extended this mysterian viewpoint to knowledge itself—why? They were quite confident about the nature of knowledge: they had a theory about it, namely empiricism. All knowledge derives from and is caused by experience: this is its nature, its essence, its reality. They never seem to have contemplated the possibility that knowledge might not be comprehensible by the human mind; in particular, they never wondered whether some types of knowledge (usually dubbed a priori) might have an unknown nature. They thought they knew exactly what knowledge intrinsically is, what explains it, what constitutes it. Why the inconsistency?

The answer isn’t at all obvious, but I have a hypothesis. The mysteries of matter were becoming clearer as the science of physics progressed, but the mysteries of mind had not yet become visible. Thus, consciousness itself was not perceived as mysterious—and knowledge is one of its attainments. More particularly, the role of the brain was not yet clear: brain science had not got off the ground—the nerve impulse was yet to be discovered. So, questions about mind and brain were not yet part of the intellectual landscape. If they were, our two philosophers would surely have wondered how the brain is capable of knowledge—how, indeed, experience arises from the brain. Then, mystery would have entered their calculations—mysteries of mind not just matter. They could be content with an empiricist theory knowledge because it never occurred to them that the mind might itself be a mystery—specifically, how knowledge is related to the physical world. They thought knowledge could not extend beyond experience because that was the only theory they were able to understand, neglecting the possibility that knowledge might work in ways they were incapable of understanding. Their inconsistency is therefore intelligible, if not defensible. In other words, our impressions of knowledge, like our impressions of solidity and causation, might not reveal the true of nature of what they are impressions of.

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Absurdity

Absurdity

Every now and then I am struck by the sheer absurdity of my current situation. I live approximately a mile from the University of Miami, where I used to be a philosophy professor. I drive by there frequently. For twelve years I have had no contact with the people in the philosophy department. I am banned from campus under threat of forcible removal. Why, I don’t know. People who used to be my friends and colleagues shun me like the plague. Why, I don’t know. With the exception of Ed Erwin (now deceased) everyone keeps their distance. Meanwhile I churn out philosophy at least as good as anything I did before. My professional contacts (and friends) include Thomas Nagel, Noam Chomsky, Rebecca Goldstein, Richard Dawkins, and Steven Pinker—not a shabby list. But no one from my old department. I once inquired if my ex-colleagues would be okay with my attending colloquia and was rebuffed. Why, I don’t know. All is silence. I am reminded of Cincinnatus C. in Nabokov’s dark comedy Invitation to a Beheading, imprisoned for a nameless crime and condemned to death. The nearest he comes to understanding the nature of his crime is the phrase “gnostical turpitude”; for this he is betrayed by everyone and duly beheaded. A similar fate befalls Josef K. in Kafka’s The Trial. It’s the not knowing that constitutes the worst punishment. My situation is not quite so serious, but it is equally hilarious. We should all get together and have a good laugh about it.

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President and Pope

President and Pope

The president was seething in his presidential bathroom. This time it wasn’t his political enemies or the fake news media or Robert de Niro. It was the pope. The new pope. The American new pope. The problem was obvious: he was drawing big crowds, he was on TV a lot, he was popular, he was multilingual, intelligent, and respected by all the top cardinals. None of this was acceptable to the president, especially the big crowds. There was a distinct danger that this guy might become the most famous American on the planet. The president felt that he looked more papal (he said paypal) than that short guy from Chicago; also, his hand gestures were not as good as the president’s. The president had the best hand gestures. There were rumors that the new pope was not a supporter of his and didn’t love his country. He had to be stopped before he made nasty comments about the president. He straightened his tie, checked his makeup, and exited the bathroom, forgetting to flush the toilet (he had bigger things on his mind).

In the kitchen his wife was gazing at a glossy magazine. She didn’t look up. The president didn’t care. He said, “Do you think he’s hot like me?” Still not looking up, she replied “What?” “The new pope”, he said. “I guess he’s fairly attracteeve for a pope”, was her languid response. “But he’s so short”, he countered. She said nothing. “Anyway, he has never had sex with any of the world’s top women”, he commented ruminatively. That had to count for something. The presidential wife pretended not to hear. Presently, he left, having serious presidential work to do in the Oval.

He had a plan. He was smart, much smarter than all those so-called intellectuals and book-readers. His first line of attack was obvious: the guy was not a real American—he was born in Peru, then smuggled into the country. Where was his birth certificate? It worked with Obama, so it should work with this Leo character (not even his real name). People are saying his mother was a Peruvian washer woman (whatever that is); and that he never knew his father. The Democrats then allowed him to worm his way into the Catholic church in a DEI initiative. Second, that conclave thing was a fake election: he was never really elected pope. It was rigged, a scam, a criminal conspiracy, the cardinals were all part of a deep state plot—how did anyone know otherwise? Third, he isn’t really a Christian: he just acts the part so he can gain power. It’s all just a cult anyway, everyone knows that. Fourth, and here the president showed his political genius, he would insinuate that pope Leo had gang connections in South America. He had lived in Peru for twenty years, in rough parts of the country—how could he not have gang connections? He might even be the head of a Peruvian gang of murderers, rapists, drug dealers, and tattoo wearers. His hat, apparently, was similar to the hat of a Peruvian gang called Agua Fina. His skin did have a brownish hue when seen at twilight. How could he love our country if he refused to live in it for twenty years? You all know that. He should really be deported for coming here illegally. He is obviously a socialist and a loser.

The president had arranged for a rally in Rome. He had his speech all mapped out. He would begin by saying that this pope would bring atheism like you have never seen before, so much atheism. Then he would move to brand him an illegal immigrant and gang member. He would call him Little Leo. He would grin and point as people chanted “Lock him up!” He would suggest he might be a drug addict because he is so thin. He would point out that the pope’s ability to speak several languages was proof of his lack of patriotism. The guy was a Peruvian citizen for Christ sake! The president felt confident that this rally would put an end to his problem—the problem of being the second most famous American in the world. The pope would be eclipsed and defeated by the president and would soon be calling him “Sir”.

Meanwhile pope Leo XIV remained in the Vatican, praying and smiling to himself, saying nothing.

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On Empiricism

On Empiricism

What if empiricism had never been invented? It wasn’t invented till the seventeenth century: there is no trace of it in Plato and Aristotle, or their followers. It took a long time till philosophers got round to it; and it originated only in England not as a world-wide trend. It came from nowhere. Two individuals were responsible: John Locke and David Hume (Bishop Berkeley is a separate case). Locke believed in the tabula rasa conception of knowledge and held that all ideas derive from sense experience. Hume rejected the first doctrine but subscribed to the second. That doctrine proved to be of the essence. There were gaping holes in it from the start: the missing shade of blue, the problem of a priori knowledge, the inadequacy of mental images as an account of concepts, the lack of a coherent theory of abstraction. But I won’t go into these failings; my question is historical. Empiricism was a particular movement at a particular time and place; it wasn’t a universally accepted time-tested discovery. It went against the grain. It might never have existed. In a close possible world, empiricism never was invented—no Locke and Hume. Suppose this to be so: how would the course of philosophy look? It was a bad theory—what if we just delete it from history?

It took hold, we know that. It dominated English-speaking (and other) philosophy up until quite recently. Apart from John Stuart Mill and company, it shaped much of early twentieth century philosophy, overtly so. Russell was an empiricist. Logical positivism harked back to Hume (as Ayer explicitly stated). Husserl saw himself as a follower of Hume, as did Mach and Einstein. Knowledge was widely thought to be based on sense experience alone. True, there were dissenting voices, but they didn’t depart much from empiricist orthodoxy. Quine spoke of the dogmas of empiricism, but he still tied knowledge to the senses, now physically conceived (empiricism without experience). Husserl refined the empiricist conception of experience, but still clung to it. Ordinary language philosophy rejected the empiricist theory of meaning and concepts (ideas, images), but it still stuck to the observable phenomena of speech—what we hear rather than what we see (linguistic empiricism). It never abandoned empiricist epistemology in favor of rationalist epistemology. It celebrated common sense. The only examples of real resistance were Frege and Wittgenstein (early and late)—though even Wittgenstein followed the empiricist theory of necessity and the revolt against metaphysics. It was Frege who repudiated the whole empiricist worldview, notably in his attack on Mill’s theory of arithmetic, but also in his account of meaning. I can’t think of another major philosopher of this period who so clearly broke from the empiricist tradition. It was taken as a given. Strawson had empiricist leanings, as did Carnap, Ryle, Austin, Davidson, and others already mentioned; certainly, none of these advocated a return to rationalism. Chomsky did, but he is not a philosopher and never attacked the empiricist theory of a priori knowledge head-on. Despite its flaws, then, empiricism held sway throughout the twentieth century, though with minor modifications.

But I have not yet answered my question: what would philosophy have looked like if empiricism had never been invented? It is hard to say, because empiricism became so deeply entrenched. Frege never developed a general anti-empiricist philosophy, taking in ethics, philosophy of mind, and the nature of scientific knowledge (and non-scientific knowledge). I suspect ethics would have looked very different, because not in thrall to the empiricist theory of knowledge. Metaphysics would have been less stifled and apologetic. Philosophy of logic and mathematics might have been more central. But the main thing I think is that the mysterian viewpoint would have been far more salient, even orthodox. For the truth is that empiricism provided an impression of explanation of puzzling phenomena—a false impression, but an impression. It explains (allegedly) the origins of knowledge (concepts and whole propositions): it all comes from sensory experience. Nice and simple. Classical rationalism provides no real explanation—implanted by God is no explanation.[1] The empiricist explanation is also vaguely mechanistic: ideas causally derive from impressions; impressions cause ideas. This is supposed to be a law of nature, somewhat similar to Newton’s force laws: impressions have the power to produce ideas, as massive bodies have the power to produce motion (“ideational force”). What other explanation do we have? Empiricism gives us a natural science of knowledge formation: it is a matter of copying, imprinting. If this explanation is false, what do we put in its place? The mysterian answer is that we don’t know; so, it’s either a bad theory or no theory at all. Many people prefer a bad theory to no theory. What is clear is that in the historical absence of empiricism the mysterian position looms into view: knowledge is a mystery. I believe that much knowledge is innate, but I don’t think this is really an explanation of the origins of knowledge—for how does such innate knowledge come to exist in the first place? Empiricism explains origins (or purports to), but rationalism does not. In our alternative intellectual history, then, the focus is on resolving the mystery, or accepting it as insoluble.  Empiricism purported to be the science of the mind analogous to Newton’s science of body, but it just isn’t a very good science. It is a kind of faith, whistling in the dark.

Let me put it even more bluntly: empiricism is a terrible theory cooked up by a couple of smooth-talking British blokes three hundred years ago, leading to the mess that was logical positivism.[2] That was repudiated in short order, but only minor amendments were made. We would have been better off without it. It still exercises a malign influence (particularly on scientists who are easily taken in by bad philosophy). But the alternative, supposing empiricism historically subtracted, is an absence of explanation, leading to a reluctant acceptance of mystery. Maybe the mystery would have been solved by now without the distraction of empiricism, or maybe it would not. In either case we would have been closer to the truth. A wildly speculative (and false) theory was converted into a dogma, and we have been living with the consequences ever since. The main dogma of empiricism is the doctrine that knowledge has anything essentially to do with experience.[3]

[1] I discuss this in Inborn Knowledge (2015). Exactly how is innate knowledge coded into the genes? It is—but how? And how did it evolve? This is close to the puzzle of the innate lexicon, emphasized by Chomsky.

[2] Moreover, Hume was badly misrepresented as more simple-minded than he was, as recent scholarship has demonstrated. A.J. Ayer’s interpretation of him was wide of the mark. We have been subjected to centuries of simplistic undergraduate Hume. Things are far more difficult than that.

[3] I haven’t tried to demonstrate this here, but I have written about it elsewhere (as have others). The essential point is that the deliverances of sense are never sufficient to generate knowledge, and are not always necessary for knowledge. Knowledge is a separate faculty from sensation; the former is not reducible to the latter. Also, sensation is a lot more complex than was traditionally recognized—more “cognitive”. Empiricism isn’t even true of the senses!

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Alone

Alone

I was watching American Idol the other day and Carrie Underwood performed a belting version of the song Alone. I had only faint memories of the song from way back, but it intrigued me as a challenge. It switches from a talky intro to a power ballad chorus. I soon discovered it had been recorded by Heart in 1987 and had reached number 1. I decided to learn it. Celine Dion had also recorded a version of it in 2007, so you know what kind of vocal feats it requires. As it turns out, the song was written and performed by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly in 1983. Anyway, I set about learning the lyrics and working on the vocals. For the talky part you have to create a gloomy atmosphere and emotional tension (“No answer on the telephone”, “The night goes by so very slow”), ending with “Alone”. Then, suddenly, the chorus hits at full volume: “Till now, I always got by on my own/I never really cared until I met you”. Then back to a quiet meditative part: “You’ll never know how much I wanted to touch your lips and hold you tight”, but “The secret is still my own”. This is followed again by the screaming hysterical chorus, the song ending with two high-pitched prolonged shrieks of “Alone”. It’s a great song to tax your vocal powers. After a week I had it down and was happily singing duets of it with Celine. I have made it my own, as the saying goes. How many philosophers can say this?

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Deficiencies of Trump

Deficiencies of Trump

As a qualified psychologist, I would like to state my opinion of Trump’s mental health (for want of a better term). Is he aware of his ethical and intellectual deficiencies (also athletic)? Some may say that he is not—that he is self-deluded. My own theory is that he is keenly aware of his deficiencies of character and mind. He knows quite well that he is intellectually impoverished and morally bankrupt—how could he not? It is quite obvious. He doesn’t read, he is uneducated, and he is illogical. He speaks moronically (“We love pope!”). He also knows he is self-centered, vindictive, and morally vacant (Melania will have told him). He is too lazy and spoiled to do anything about it. Nor does he need to. This is why he hits out at anyone that makes him look inferior, intellectually or ethically—which is most of the world. He needs sycophancy because disagreement leaves him embarrassed at his own deficiencies. He even hates taller people. Money partially makes up for it, but he feels insignificant when in the company of richer men. He has, in short, a massive inferiority complex. He likes to win because winning trumps (!) superiority. Losing just reminds him of his evident deficiencies.

This diagnosis is fairly common. But I want to add a dimension not remarked upon—his athletic limitations. It is well known that he cheats at golf, though he is by all accounts a reasonable player. I was interested in his tennis, having seen a photo of him in tennis gear (not a pretty sight). As it happens, there is video of him on Youtube hitting briefly with Serena Williams at some sort of event, wearing a suit and no shoes. He has obviously played a fair amount, but he is devoid of any real ability. I think he must have had lessons at some point, judging by his strokes. He has great trouble keeping the ball in, and his foot movement is non-existent. He tries to hit hard, however, as if to overcome the opponent by brute force not skill. There is no grace, no style; he is a tennis philistine. And he knows it: he knows he is a lousy tennis player, despite his best efforts. He just doesn’t have what it takes. It’s like his ethics and intellect—startlingly limited. Abnormally stunted. He just isn’t any good at things, and he is well aware of it.

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Against the Identity Theory of Physical Objects

Against the Identity Theory of Physical Objects

The identity theory of physical objects says that a perceived object is identical to an object described in physics (or perhaps in physiology). For example, the table before me is identical to an object described in physics as consisting of a collection of atoms. Logically, it is like the identity theory of mental objects: a pain, say, is identical to a brain state as described in neurophysiology. In other terminology, both are reducible to objects described in physical science—reducible via identity. The identity might be of types or tokens or both. A dualist theory will maintain that there is no such identity; rather, the objects in question are numerically distinct. I am about to argue for a dualist theory of (what we call) physical objects—tables, rocks, animal bodies, etc. I will put this for simplicity as the theory that perceived objects are not identical to physical objects (thus restricting the term “physical” to objects-as-described-in-physics). Physical objects (vernacular) are not identical to physical objects (scientific).

I will start with a thought experiment to get the intuitive juices flowing. Suppose I come into possession of a medium-sized dog; call him Jack. Jack is a perfectly ordinary dog. However, due to some quirk in my visual system, I don’t see Jack as a dog at all; I see him as a cat. I think I have a cat as a pet; I call it Wendy. Suppose I never discover my error: I think my visual cat-representing percept corresponds to an actual cat. The same goes for my other dog-caused cat-like percepts, tactile and auditory. Actually, Jack has none of the properties my percepts attribute to him (or just a few of a general nature). Are Jack and Wendy identical? Wendy is a cat, but Jack is not; and Wendy looks exactly like a cat, which Jack doesn’t. In philosophical jargon, the intentional object of my percepts is completely different qualitatively from the object occupying my house. I think the intuitive answer is that they are not numerically identical. Jack is simply the causal trigger of my Wendy percepts. We would no more say that Wendy is identical to Jack than that she is identical to the brain states that trigger my percepts of her. Does Wendy exist? It doesn’t matter to the thought experiment whether she does or not, but I am inclined to say she does; in any case, I will occasionally talk this way to facilitate discussion. So, we can say that the perceived object is not identical to the physical object, though there is a certain correspondence between them. Leibniz’s law would appear to back me up, because Jack doesn’t have cat properties and Wendy doesn’t have dog properties. An identity theory here would be false. Intuitively, my mind has created Wendy and she is not identical to the dog that elicits cat impressions in my deranged nervous system.

This case may remind you of two well-known philosophical examples: the Muller-Lyer illusion and Eddington’s two tables. On the face of it, I see two lines of unequal length and a solid object, respectively. But the two lines in the external stimulus are equal in length and the table is really not solid (according to Eddington). We are under an illusion in both cases. The perceived object and the physical object do not coincide in their properties; therefore, they are not identical. Thus, Eddington speaks of two tables (he is a table dualist) and a perceptual psychologist might follow suit with regard to the visual illusion (he is a geometry dualist). Visual objects are not physical objects: the objects of perception are not identical to the objects of physics. The same kind of reasoning can be applied more generally: visual objects are perceived as colored and are colored, but physical objects are not; therefore, they are not identical. Ditto for other secondary qualities. The two things do not have all properties in common, so they cannot be identical. This conclusion is neutral on the question of whether we see physical objects, directly or indirectly; the point is that even if we do the two are not identical. I see colored objects, but the objects of physics are not colored; so, the two are not identical.

We can pursue the parallel between the two sorts of identity theory further. First, the type-token distinction: we can ask whether being a red object is identical to being an object and such and such a physical type, and we can ask whether the identity only extends as far as token red objects (so that redness may have a different basis in different tokens). Second, we can imagine cases of red objects in a possible world that fail to be correlated with the physical objects they are correlated with in the actual world, thus undermining identity (Kripke cases). And we can conceive of zombie-type cases that involve the same physical objects but no corresponding perceptual objects (non-supervenience). Also, knowledge arguments to the effect that knowledge of the physical object never adds up to knowledge of the perceptual object (in respect of color). The same dialectic applies in the two cases. You can pull apart the perceptual object and the physical object, so no necessity binds them, as required by identity. Granted, then, that both identity claims are demonstrably false, it turns out that neither mental states nor perceptual objects are physical entities. This means that the paradigms for the classic identity theory are incorrectly described: the perceptual object we call “heat” is not identical to molecular motion, because the same such perceptual object can be elicited by different physical phenomena. In the case of a hallucination, impressions of heat are present but no physical correlate is—we have heat, the perceptual object, but no molecular motion to go with it. Similarly, for water: same perceptual object but correlated either with H2O or XYZ. Or the same physical thing could cause perceptions of different intentional objects. The objects of perception are never identical with the objects described by physics. So, physicalism fails for both perceptual objects and perceptual states themselves. There is obviously a pattern here—a systematic failure of physicalist reduction.

This is particularly clear for sounds. Suppose I hear the sound of a bell as a piano sound: can the heard sound be identified with the physical stimulus? No, because the heard piano sound is not necessarily correlated with the air perturbations caused by the bell being struck. That perceptual object cannot be identical with the physical stimulus, though the two are conjoined in this instance. The connection is contingent, so not the relation of identity. It is even possible to have the perceptual object in the complete absence of a physical stimulus. There are two things here: the external physical stimulus and the internally generated intentional object. It is the same with the body: the body you perceive is not the same as the body studied by physical science. You could hallucinate a body, in which case there would be no physical body to be identical with the body hallucinated. There are really two bodies here—the perceptual body and the physical body.

This solves a problem that has long puzzled me—the puzzle of the location of pain. We are often told that a pain apparently in the toe is not really in the toe but in the brain, that being the place where pain is processed. But now we can see that the pain might be in the perceptual body’s toe but not in the physical body’s toe. You perceive pain in your toe qua part of the perceived body, but in the physical body it occurs in the brain and only seems to occur in the toe. Seeming rules in the case of the perceived body, but not the physical body. You are not really under any illusion about the pain’s location; we just need to distinguish the two bodies. In the Muller-Lyer illusion the two lines are of different lengths in the perceptual object, though not in the physical object. The mistake is to confuse the two objects; visual illusion occurs when the two objects diverge in their properties. There is nothing visually false in the case of so-called visual illusion, though you may make a false judgment regarding the physical stimulus. Certainly, these cases are conceptually intricate, but it isn’t that the physical stimulus is being seen as otherwise than it is; what is seen is the intentional object, and it is as it is seen. We make inferences from one to the other, which may lead us to error, but the visual system itself is not committing any errors—it is correctly representing the perceptual object. You saw two unequal lines, and those lines compose the immediate perceptual object. Likewise, the pain is where it seems in the perceived body, though not in the physical body. In any case, the two bodies are not identical.[1]

[1] I have avoided the term “sense-datum” here, because of its ambiguity and general unclarity. I prefer to use “intentional object”, but this is a technical term and carries unwanted connotations. I have therefore used “perceptual object” throughout. The whole topic is plagued with terminological pitfalls. It really is amazing how hard it is to describe ordinary visual experience, given its immediacy. You feel like you are walking on eggshells.

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