Other Conceptions
I have a conception of the world, commonly called my conceptual scheme. It can be investigated, probed, criticized. I also have a conception of myself, specifically my mind. This tends to be more private and more subject to philosophical and scientific controversy. Still, it is quite well-formed and available to my cogitations: I know what I think of me. In addition, I have a conception of other minds, varying in its detail and depth; this I also have insight into. I know what I think of others. But do I have a conception of other people’s conception of me? To some degree, but it is apt to be patchy and incomplete. I really don’t know how other people see me much of the time, beyond the obvious. How am I conceived by others? And how do I know what I know about this subject? I observe how others react to me and I hear what they say about me, but this method is partial and unreliable. I am quite ignorant about how I am perceived and thought about. In the case of animals, I really have no idea how they conceive me, just the sketchiest of conceptions, mostly anthropocentric. Could I ever find out what my cat thinks of me? This is the problem, not of other minds, but of other conceptions of my mind—a sub-problem within that broader problem. I might have a pretty good idea of the other’s conception of the world, but I am comparatively clueless about his conception of my internal world. And do I have anyconception of his conception of my conception of him? Ignorance rapidly engulfs us. Does Spock have a decent conception of Kirk’s conception of him, given their psychological differences? Isn’t he puzzled about how Kirk sees him? Here we seem to have a potent source of ignorance, even mystery. We don’t have a clear conception of other people’s conception of us, beyond the superficial. For example, I am ignorant of how people understand my motivations, unless they tell me—and even then, they may not tell me the truth. In the normal course of events, we don’t know how others see us, conceptualize us, understand us. If we don’t share the language of the other, we may be permanently in the dark about this. What does she think about me? Does she understand me at all?
This matters: it isn’t just an area of harmless vacuity. For I have to interact with others and that requires that I grasp how they see me. Accordingly, I try to convey myself to the other as well as I can, so as to give them an accurate conception—assuming I am not out to deceive. Or better: I try to convey as much of myself as is compatible with concealing stuff I don’t want the other to know, such as how much I dislike people who dress and speak the way they do. I try to shape their conception of me; then I know what it is. But I have little control over this and must accept that I don’t know what is in their mind concerning my mind (personality, motivations, etc.). Thus, social life is fraught with such ignorance: I really don’t know how I am conceived by others, and hence how my self-conception compares to their conception of me. Hence it is possible to come to the conclusion that so-and-so never understood me at all: their conception of me was all wrong. Maybe I tried to be transparent, but failed: I am tragically misperceived. People form their view of others on the basis of stereotypes, and these might give a completely false picture. Perhaps it would be a good idea to have explicit discussions about this: how the other sees you. It could be socially awkward, but it might avoid some of the traps we fall into. Of course, the other might not believe you when you try to correct his mis-apprehensions, but at least you tried. Far too often we go through life in ignorance of how others see us; we don’t know how we are understood. This is a pity.
