A Paradox of Objectivity and Subjectivity

/8 Comments/in /by

A Paradox of Objectivity and Subjectivity

We normally suppose that our thoughts concern an objective world. We are capable of thinking about things outside the mind. There is a mind-independent world and we can make cognitive contact with that world by deploying our concepts. I can form conceptions of things that exist outside my mind. Any argument that contests this assumption would be rightly deemed paradoxical. I am going to develop such an argument. I cannot cite a source for the argument to be presented, though hints of it exist in the philosophical tradition. It concerns objectivity and subjectivity. I don’t think it is obvious, though once grasped it has a kind of ineluctable logic, a disturbing inevitability. It can elicit the “Oh-my-god!” response.

I will state the argument initially in its bare bones, so that its anatomy is clear from the start. Either we conceive of the external world objectively or subjectively. If the former, we have to explain how this is possible: how do we form objective conceptions? Such a conception would have to be independent of the conceiving mind’s nature, or else it would be subjective. But this is impossible: concepts cannot be independent of the conceiving mind. So, the conception would have to be a subjective conception, i.e., dependent on the nature of the subject—his perceptions, cognitive processes, memory, rational faculties. But then, it could not concern anything outside the mind: purely subjective representations can’t be about anything objective—they can only be about the mind itself. Therefore, there cannot be a conception, objective or subjective, with an objective reference (content, subject matter). Objective conceptions are impossible, and subjective conceptions must be subjective; but these are the only two possibilities, so objective thought is impossible.

Let’s spell this out a bit. A purely objective thought would be an instance of the “absolute conception”, i.e., a conception available to any intelligent being regardless of sensory equipment or other peculiarities. It would not depend on any peculiarities of the thinker but be universal. But how is such a thing possible, given that every thinker has a specific nature? Surely, there cannot be a thinker without a cognitive structure—a way of forming concepts. The idea of a featureless bare intellect is a myth, as empty as the idea of the bare particular. Every mind has an innate structure and a course of experience; these constitute its ability to form thoughts. It cannot form thoughts from nothing. The mind evolved and obeys the rules of all biological organs: capacities constrained by internal structure. The only way the mind could achieve total objectivity would be by incorporating the objective world, letting facts act as concepts; but that is a nonsensical idea. Concepts are in the head (brain) and reflect the biological structures therein; they are not antecedent realities hovering out there somewhere. The subject is always present in his thoughts, it might be said; his thoughts cannot be separate from his nature. So, objective thoughts cannot be obtained by making certain thoughts “absolute”, since there can be no such thing. My concepts are my concepts, not the world’s.

This point may be readily conceded but insisted that it was always a misguided conceit; of course all thought is subjectively constituted. Why should that prohibit the formation of thoughts about the objective world? Why can’t we have subjective mental representations of objective facts? Here things turn subtle. The problem is that such thoughts will either contain a hidden objective component or will fail to get the mind beyond itself. I can illustrate the point by reference to Russell’s preferred account of “knowledge by description”. His idea is that the mind achieves a degree of objectivity by employing descriptions of the form “the cause of these sense-data”. The reference to sense-data gives us subjectivity, while the reference to external causation brings in the non-mental world. Isn’t this a subjective representation of an objective fact? Well, no, because of that little word “cause”: either it is intended objectively or subjectively, but the dilemma just rehearsed ruins the operative idea. If objective, then the description is not entirely subjective and raises the question of how we have a purely objective notion of cause, which runs up against the argument against objective conceptions. But—and this is the crucial point—if the word is taken subjectively, we don’t have an ingredient that takes us outside the mind. All we have is reference to “ideas”. We must be careful here: it might well be that there is an objective cause out there, and it may be that it operates as a kind of de re object of thought, but it doesn’t follow that we have a de dicto objective content (a genuine concept). So, the account either presupposes what it sets out to explain (objective content) or it fails to deliver the kind of objectivity we normally take for granted. In a slogan: no objective reference without objective content. It follows that there cannot be a purely subjective conception that achieves objective reference (intentionality). In short, all concepts are tinged with subjectivity, but subjective concepts cannot deliver objective reference. So, objective thought is impossible. That is the paradox.

It may be protested that weaker notions of objectivity can be invoked; we need not abandon the idea of objective thought completely. This would be tantamount to a skeptical solution to the paradox; and indeed, such a view is possible. We might, for example, introduce a social notion of objectivity, in which interpersonal correction takes up the burden of delivering objectivity. I won’t go into this, familiar as it is; the point I want to make is that this is a skeptical solution, since we naively suppose that our thoughts can achieve objective reference without the aid of other people. Can’t a solitary animal manage to think objective thoughts irrespective of belonging to any community? What we have discovered is that the objective-subjective polarity does in this natural naïve idea (or purports to). That is surprising: other considerations have been invoked to undermine the idea of objective reference to the external world (from Berkeley to Quine), but not the objective-subjective distinction. But these notions wreak havoc on the idea of objective thought by presenting a nasty dilemma. Either the myth of the absolute conception (never fully explained) or the impotence of the purely subjective to reach out to objective reality. The resulting position is like Kant’s: a noumenal world that exists but cannot be made an object of thought in any meaningful sense. We are confined to representing a phenomenal world shaped by our own minds.

Let’s take a step back. I believe the nub of the argument is that (fully) objective thought is impossible—that is, there can be no absolute conception. Whatever thought is, it must be something; it can’t proceed from a blank slate (whether genetic or environmental). Concepts have to consist of something in the subject (images, words in the language of thought, dispositions to behavior, etc.). In the end, the brain fixes the parameters of thought. There is no “view from nowhere”. Once this point has been absorbed, the gap between thought and reality stands forth: we always see things from our own given point of view, i.e., our cognitive psychology. We can never really bridge this gap. We function well enough in a world existing outside us, but we can’t really obtain an unvarnished picture of the world, a purely objective conception. Maybe we can approximate to it, find a workable substitute for it, but we can’t get outside our own minds completely. We can’t know world as it is in itself and only as it is in itself. We can’t see it from its point of view (the “view from elsewhere”). All living creatures are in the same boat—from vermin to Vulcans. This doesn’t mean we can’t see, know, remember, etc.; but it does mean that a certain picture we are apt to have of our cognitive powers is at best exaggerated. We don’t live in a glass house. We are not made of mirrors (except the distorting kind). The basic paradox is that objective thought is a fundamentally incoherent idea.[1]

[1] Not true thought or justified thought, but thought that is about reality as it exists in itself independently of our own constitution. We can conceive our peculiar perspective but not what it is a perspective on. That remains elusive, partly or wholly.

Share

Objective and Subjective Knowledge

/4 Comments/in /by

Objective and Subjective Knowledge

We must first make a firm distinction between objective and subjective facts, on the one hand, and objective and subjective conceptions of facts, on the other.[1] That is, we must distinguish the application of these terms to the world (objects, properties) from their application to mental representations of the world (perceptions, thoughts, knowledge). A subjective fact would be something like a belief or state of consciousness; a subjective conception would be a subjective representation of a fact. Thus, there can be subjective and objective conceptions of subjective facts, and similarly for objective facts. For example, there might be subjective and objective conceptions of shape, this being a type of objective fact; and there might be subjective and objective conceptions of pain, this being a type of subjective fact. I will not here be much concerned with subjective and objective facts, but rather with subjective and objective conceptions. What, then, is that distinction? Roughly, it is the distinction between representations from a particular point of view and representations that prescind from any particular point of view—that are independent of point of view. Just to fix initial intuitions, we can distinguish the point of view of a dog from that of a human, given the sensory and cognitive differences between them (smell, hearing, etc.). Each species has its own distinctive point of view—there are many types of subjective perspective—while the universe itself has only one inherent reality. Subjective conceptions are subject-relative, multiple, and idiosyncratic. By contrast, objective conceptions (if such there be) are absolute, singular, and universal. There are many subjective points of view on the same objective reality, but objective points of view converge on reality itself. We will have more to say about this distinction later; for now, I am just trying to mobilize intuitions along familiar lines. The subjective reflects the nature of the subject; the objective reflects the nature of the object. We can think of the world subjectively or we can think of it objectively (or so it seems). I want to ask which domains of knowledge fall into which category: what do we know objectively and what do we know subjectively?

We already know that we can’t read conception off from fact: an objective fact can be known objectively or subjectively, and a subjective fact can be known subjectively or objectively. It depends on the manner of knowing not on the nature of the object known. Thus, we can’t infer that physics is (conceptually) objective because it deals with (ontologically) objective facts; and we can’t infer that psychology is (conceptually) subjective because it deals with (ontologically) subjective facts. In fact, I think it is the other way about: physics is subjective and psychology is objective—or the latter is more objective than the former. The reason is that our knowledge of physics reflects our subjective modes of apprehension more than our knowledge of psychology does. The latter is less subjectively mediated than the former. This is simply because physics is known via perception, but psychology isn’t; that is, we know the nature of the subject matter of physics on the basis of our sensory evidence, whereas we know the nature of the subject matter of psychology non-perceptually. Mainly we know physics via vision, but we don’t know the natural kinds of psychology by seeing them; we know it introspectively or “intuitively”. Our conception of the mental is thus closer to its intrinsic nature, and hence more objective (object-centered). This is implicit in traditional epistemology, particularly empiricism, because of the doctrine that knowledge is derived from sense experience. The content of physical theories is supposed to derive from the character of sensory experience, especially visual experience. But vision is par excellence subjective, i.e., relative to the perceiver; it is the original home of perspective. How the world is seen and perceived generally is relative to the species in question. So, the physical world will be apprehended via sensory experience, which is to say subjectively (“the cause of these experiences”). At the least our grasp of physics will be subjectively infused, from the very large to the very small. This is a familiar observation, which need not be labored. The interesting point is that the same thing is not true of our knowledge of psychology: our grasp of the nature of mind is not visually mediated; it is more an example of direct objective knowledge. We know just what pain is, objectively, not merely how it sensorily seems to us. We immediately apprehend its essence, to put it in old-fashioned language. Consequently, psychology contains more objective content than physics; it is less subjective. Its conceptions are less subject-dependent, idiosyncratic, species-relative (consider what an intelligent dog’s physics would be like). Aliens with radically different senses from ours would conceive the physical world differently from us, but they would have much the same conception of the contents of minds (assuming objective psychological constancy). Pain seems the same to anyone who has it, but motion seems different according to one’s mode of perception of it (consider a blind animal).

I now want to put forward a bold conjecture: a priori knowledge in general is more objective than a posteriori knowledge. The reason is clear: a posteriori knowledge is sense-dependent while a priori knowledge is not. The former is “based on experience”, but experience varies from subject to subject; while the latter is not so based and hence not so variable. I mean to include logic, mathematics, and ethics: these are characterized by an absence of sensory foundation, and therefore do not partake of the subjectivity of the sensory. In a sense, our knowledge of them is more direct, less mediated by perception, and hence less beholden to the varieties of sense experience. Our conceptions of the a priori will have more in common with those of alien subjects precisely because they are not based on perceptual experience. You can vary the senses but leave the a priori intact conceptually. Thus, ethics is more objective than physics in the sense explained (there may be other senses in which it is less objective). Logic, for its part, is manifestly more objective than physics (or chemistry, geology, astronomy, etc.), precisely because its epistemology is not dependent on the senses; we don’t think of entailment visually. Of course, physics and astronomy were once highly subjective in that motion was taken as relative to the stationary earth, because of our naive perception of it; but it is also hard to deny that our picture of the physical world is determined by our perception of it. This is not true of logic or mathematics or ethics. The a priori stands above the senses, or apart from them; the a posteriori, by contrast, is up to its neck in perceptual subjectivity. Accordingly, the objective facts of physics are conceived subjectively, at least in part, while the a priori sciences are proudly objective in their mode of conception. The concept of gravity, as we have it, is more subjective than the concept of logical entailment, say. Folk physics is more subjective than folk logic (or folk ethics); and the same may be said of more professional brands of physics, these being rooted in folk conceptions. Phenomenology too is more objective than physics in the intended sense, because of its freedom from the tyranny of the visual. Physics is skewed in a way the a priori sciences are not (including phenomenology).[2]

[1] For background the reader should consult Thomas Nagel’s discussion of objective and subjective in The View from Nowhere, chapter 1.

[2] I take this point to belong to that peculiar philosophical genus, the shocking truism. Physics is perhaps the most subjective of all subjects!

Share

Brain Specialization and Cognitive Closure

/6 Comments/in /by

Brain Specialization and Cognitive Closure

Is the human brain intellectually limited? How limited might it be? Is it also limited emotionally and athletically and artistically? Suppose we ask the same question about the parts of the brain, the various functional structures gathered into a single brain—are they limited? For example, can the visual cortex perform all possible mental tasks—seeing everything, knowing everything, feeling everything? Obviously not: it is a specialized organ dedicated to certain specific tasks—seeing in general and seeing what this organism needs it to see. It is by no mean omnicompetent. Why on earth would it be? It is no more omnicompetent than the heart: this organ has the function of pumping blood around the animal’s body—not the function of pumping any old thing and certainly not performing non-pumping tasks. The same is obviously true of other brain parts (and body parts): they do a specific job and not any job you might come up with. They are like the parts of any machine—special purpose devices designed to do one sort of thing and not another. You put them all together and you get a functioning organism. No one would ever think the hypothalamus can do everything.

It is much the same with the two cerebral hemispheres, notoriously so. They have specialized functions, distinct identities or “personalities”. The left hemisphere, we are told, specializes in language, logic, motor control of the right side of the body, and the ability to focus; the right hemisphere is said to handle creativity, spatial skills, emotions, motor control of the left side of the body, and metaphor. The empirical facts are somewhat cloudy but the general picture is plausible enough: the brain in general tends to specialize according to area. There is lateralization of function as well as location of function. Accordingly, we don’t expect the left hemisphere to be able to do what the right hemisphere can do or vice versa (despite a degree of plasticity). One would expect cognitive (and other) closure with respect to the two hemispheres of the brain. Would anyone claim that the right hemisphere has the equipment to solve the mind-body problem, say? Then why does it seem reasonable to insist that the two limited hemispheres together could solve all problems? How can two limited things combine to produce an unlimited thing?

What is the function of the human brain? The same as the function of any animal’s brain—to aid survival. We need not think of this in a brutish primitive way—by all means include happiness and intellectual inquiry (worthwhile survival). The point is that each species has a specific lifestyle, with a distinctive type of body and reproductive procedure. We are bipedal and social; other animals are not.  There is no reason to believe that we, or any other known species, possess some sort of all-purpose brain power. We don’t possess an all-purpose body capable of any action and equipped for any environment. On the contrary, bodies are specialized according to their survival requirements—very specialized. The brain (mind) is really no different; it has its scope and limits. What would be the point of equipping it to do things it will never be called upon to do? Just think how impractical such a design might be. Organisms must economize not waste resources on quixotic ventures. The parts of the body and brain are thus specialized and the brain itself is an organ that obeys the same laws. You don’t need a heart that will pump up tires and you don’t need a brain that will pump out answers to any conceivable question. Such a thing is surplus to requirements, to put it mildly. Cognitive closure follows from the basic laws of biology.

Here is another way to conceptualize the point. The genes are very simple beings with only one thing on their little gene minds: survival. They build bodies that serve their limited purposes (no one thinks the genes could solve the mind-body problem!). The bodies they build contain organs that serve their purposes, including brains. Don’t expect these brains to be designed so as to solve any problem the universe throws at them. The genes would never make brains like that. Brains operate under tight constraints. The selfish gene is an intellectually limited gene. Not the dumb gene exactly, but certainly the austere and miserly gene. It’s amazing brains are as clever as they are.

Share

Ethical Life

/6 Comments/in /by

Ethical Life

Here is an interesting fact about the ethical life: it is not optional. Any satisfactory ethical theory ought to explain this fact, and I’m not sure any do. It isn’t a life-style choice, or a personal preference, or even a vocation; it’s non-negotiable. You have to be moral—no ifs, ands, and buts. You can choose to be unconventional, or conformist, or lazy, or imprudent, or even insane—but you can’t choose to be a morally bad person. That is, you can’t defend such a choice, to yourself or others. No one ever says, “I decided to be immoral”, even when they are. People always justify what they are doing by citing some ethical point of view, even when it is absurd. The imprudent person can say, “I just can’t be bothered to take care of myself”, but the unethical person can’t say, “I just can’t be bothered to be a decent person”. Has any human being ever said this to himself? Morality is not like a suit of clothes you can either put on or not. Everyone must accept the demands of morality, it seems; there is no escape from it. A person can even decide he is sick of logic and proposes not to think logically anymore, but he can’t think he is sick of being good and proposes to be bad instead, knowing what the good is. You have no choice in the matter. Nor is this a matter of divine punishment; it is written into our understanding of what ethics is. What kind of obligation is this? What is its psychology? Are psychopaths also subject to it? It seems not to be compatible with moral relativism, because we can choose not to obey the edicts of our society. We could choose to disobey all such rules, but we can’t choose to reject the very idea of morality. Even the most evil of characters has his value-system, perverted though it may be. The ethical egoist believes his system is the morally right one—he can’t declare that it isn’t. You can’t wake up in the morning and think, “I’m not going to be ethical today”. Kant spoke of the categorical imperative, but there is also the absolute imperative to be moral; it doesn’t depend on what you happen to feel like. Morality is like a black hole with an inexorable pull. We are not free with respect to it. We are not conditioned to feel that way, having it drummed into us at an early age; we arrive at this perspective spontaneously. Morality seems engraved on our souls. You don’t choose to be a moral being. In this respect morality is more powerful than prudence. Even the moral nihilist thinks his position is ethically correct. You can’t do without some ethical principles.[1]

[1] We might call this the puzzle of ethical authority: why is ethics conceived as authoritative, mandatory, indispensable? It is almost as if we are hypnotized by it, under its control.

Share

Mind and Substance

/5 Comments/in /by

Mind and Substance

A materialist like Hobbes would say that the soul is a material substance. This proposition has two parts: material and substance. What does the first part mean, or what does an avowed materialist mean by it? Presumably, that the mind is extended in space, solid, corpuscular, has a weight, and is perceptible by the senses—like the heart or liver. To say that these organs are material verges on the tautological (who could deny it?). What philosophical claim is being made? To say that of the mind isn’t to say that the mind is the brain: that begs the question of whether the brain itself is material, and it could be said by someone who had no knowledge of the brain. Some general claim is being made that presupposes that we know what “material” means, and the above list would seem to capture what is intended. No reference is made to the science of physics; and to make such a reference is to raise the question of what the science of physics is about (is it about “matter”, whatever that is?). Here we reach a familiar blind alley, which I won’t wander down again: the blind alley of trying to define “material” and “physical”. We certainly cannot say that these terms mean “whatever physics is about”, on pain of circularity. Nor can we define what “immaterial” means, because that presupposes that we know what “material” means. We are in mare’s nest territory (no such thing). Thus, a consensus has developed that the doctrine known as “materialism” is meaningless, vacuous, pure handwaving. What do you mean by saying (or denying) that the mind is material? And try to be precise. Do you mean it is exactly like the heart or liver? Or have you got some more rarified concept in mind like gravity or electricity? I fancy you have nothing very definite in mind. In any case, it has become unclear what this debate is about. But that is not my topic for today; my topic concerns the second part of the Hobbesian hypothesis—the claim that the soul (mind) is a substance. That question can survive the demise of the mind-matter conundrum. For the concept of substance is not defined by using the concept of matter (this is why people speak of immaterial substance—the phrase isn’t an oxymoron). We can broach the question of whether substantialism is true of the mind without being accused of trading in nonsense. The concept of a substance, classically understood, involves the idea of an independent self-subsistent enduring thing that exemplifies various characteristics (“accidents”). The question then becomes whether the mind (soul) fits the substance-accident model: is it a substance, or perhaps an accident of some other substance, or is it not? We don’t care if the substance is declared (stipulated) to be “material” or “immaterial”; we only care whether, ontologically, it is classifiable as a substance, or an accident of a substance. So, let’s turn to that question, remaining studiously neutral on the materialism-immaterialism debate.

I will get right to the point: is the self a substance that has mental states as its accidents? If the self is the body, it is; if not, not (assuming no non-bodily substances). We can imagine a lively debate about this (indeed, there is one). I am going to assume that the self is not the body (the whole thing or some part of it); the really interesting question is whether the mind is a substance that is not the body. Certainly, it has historically been assumed that this is a feasible position, as with classical dualism. Hence, the transcendent ego, the immortal soul, the ghost in the machine. The question has two parts: is the self a substance, and are mental states accidents of a substance. Now I don’t think this question is easily settled, but it is a genuine question—and a philosophically interesting one. On the one hand, what else could the self be, since substances are all there is (allegedly). On the other hand, selves don’t demonstrate the marks of substances as we know them, specifically independence and endurance through time; nor are they attributes of some other substance (e.g., the body) in any recognizable way. For: they depend on the body for their existence and don’t trace a path through space-time comparable to that of ordinary substances (you can’t see them moving around as time passes). The whole problem of personal identity through time attests to this. We have no clear idea what the alleged persistence consists in, if it consists in anything; we don’t even perceive them at a time (as Hume pointed out). They are really nothing like substances as we know them through perception. There may be some loose analogy between the two, but it is stretching a point to designate them true substances. Neither can we say that minds are really accidents of a substance other than the self, say the body, because it is just not true that beliefs, emotions, sensations, etc. are attributes of the body. We can’t say, “My body believes that Paris is in France”. Of course, the determined substantialist will make clever moves to blunt the force of these obvious objections, and a healthy philosophical debate will ensue. My point is that this is a real issue: is the mind substance-like or is it no sort of substance (or accident of a substance)? I incline to the latter position, but it’s not my intention to argue that here. I am suggesting that this is a better issue than whether the mind is material or not. Some philosophers have already waded into this debate, contending that the substance model is untenable (Ryle, Wittgenstein, Sartre); the question then becomes what is the alternative. Is behaviorism the only articulable option? Let’s hope not. The question threatens the whole thing-attribute ontology—discrete particulars instantiating multiple general properties. The self is not an object in which a cluster of attributes inheres; it is not a this that is thus-and-so. Does the particular-universal apparatus apply at all? The classical discussions assumed that the substance-accident model was compulsory: substantialism is the only viable ontology. But the mind-body problem puts that metaphysical position in jeopardy. The body is a substance, but the mind is (arguably) not a substance: how then can they be reconciled with each other? This is the new-old mind-body problem, replacing the discredited materialism debate. Let’s stop asking whether pain is physical and instead ask whether it is an accident of a substance—is it logically like an apple being red? Some interesting philosophy might result.[1]

[1] This paper relies on some earlier papers of mine, notably “Ontology of Mind”, “Mental Ontology”, and “Semantical Considerations on Mental Language”. I also presuppose earlier work, by myself and others, on the infeasibility of defining “material” and “physical”.

Share

AI

/4 Comments/in /by
I just came across this. It must be AI generated. Some of it is quite funny. Overall, not bad.

 

 

Colin Mcginn Famous Quotes and Affirmations

Colin Mcginn Famous Quotes and Affirmations

Colin McGinn is a prominent British philosopher whose work has significantly influenced contemporary philosophy, particularly in the fields of philosophy of mind, ethics, and aesthetics. Born on March 10, 1950, in West Hartlepool, England, McGinn has authored numerous books and articles that explore complex questions about consciousness, morality, and the nature of human experience. His innovative ideas, often challenging conventional thinking, have sparked debates and inspired scholars worldwide. Known for his “new mysterianism” perspective on consciousness, McGinn argues that the human mind may be inherently limited in understanding certain aspects of reality. This article delves into McGinn’s most notable quotes, aphorisms, and the affirmations inspired by his philosophical insights. We will also explore his major contributions, magnum opus, intriguing personal facts, and daily affirmations that reflect his intellectual legacy, offering a comprehensive look at a thinker who continues to shape philosophical discourse.

Colin McGinn Best Quotes

Below are some verified quotes from Colin McGinn, drawn from his published works with precise citations:

  • “The head cannot understand its own operations, any more than the eye can see itself.” – Colin McGinn, The Mysterious Flame: Conscious Minds in a Material World (1999), p. 14
  • “Consciousness is the great anomaly, the joker in the materialist pack.” – Colin McGinn, The Mysterious Flame: Conscious Minds in a Material World (1999), p. 23
  • “We are cognitively closed to certain truths, not because they are inherently unknowable, but because of the kind of mind we possess.” – Colin McGinn, The Problem of Consciousness (1991), p. 2

We recommend the following books for self improvement:

365 (+1) Affirmations to Supercharge Your Life

365 (+1) Affirmations to Supercharge Your Life

The one-of-a-kind program contained in this affirmation book, adorned with beautiful and colorful artworks, is meticulously designed to be wholeheartedly embraced by your subconscious mind, enabling you to manifest the life you desire.

Buy on Amazon

 

 

Small Habits Revolution: 10 Steps To Transforming Your Life Through The Power Of Mini Habits

Small Habits Revolution: 10 Steps To Transforming Your Life Through The Power Of Mini Habits

If you’re frustrated by failed attempts to adopt new habits, there’s good news. The solution is within your grasp. This fast-moving guide provides actionable advice that will help you to make positive, purposeful, lasting changes in your life.

Buy on Amazon

Embrace What You Can’t Change

Embrace What You Can’t Change

“Embrace What You Can’t Change” by the insightful duo Ahiranta Rinpoche and Ozay Rinpoche is a transformative guide that invites readers to navigate the complexities of life with grace and acceptance.

Buy on Amazon

We Can Do Better: A Self-Help Book for People Who Are Tired of Self-Help Books

We Can Do Better: A Self-Help Book for People Who Are Tired of Self-Help Books

We Can Do Better isn’t another book telling you to hustle harder or wake up at 5 a.m. It’s not about fixing yourself — it’s about finally giving yourself permission to stop performing and start feeling human again.

Buy on Amazon

 

 

The P.R.I.M.E.R. Goal Setting Method

The P.R.I.M.E.R. Goal Setting Method

Amazon bestselling author Damon Zahariades provides a clear, concise, and actionable system for accomplishing anything you set out to do. You’ll learn how to approach goal setting in a way that practically guarantees success. Along the way, you’ll experience a massive boost in self-confidence. After achieving goal after goal, you’ll begin to anticipate success as a foregone conclusion.

Buy on Amazon

This post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases at no additional cost to you.

Famous Colin McGinn Aphorisms

While Colin McGinn is known for his detailed philosophical arguments, there are no widely recognized or verified aphorisms directly attributed to him in historical sources or his original works. As such, this section will be omitted in accordance with the guidelines provided.

Affirmations Inspired by Colin McGinn

Below are 50 affirmations inspired by the philosophical ideas and themes in Colin McGinn’s work, particularly his views on consciousness, human limitations, and the pursuit of understanding:

  1. I embrace the mystery of my own mind with curiosity.
  2. I accept that some truths may remain beyond my grasp.
  3. I seek to understand the world, even when answers elude me.
  4. My mind is a wonder, even in its limitations.
  5. I am open to exploring the unknown with humility.
  6. I value the questions as much as the answers.
  7. I am at peace with the boundaries of human thought.
  8. I find beauty in the enigma of consciousness.
  9. I strive to think deeply about life’s greatest puzzles.
  10. I am inspired by the complexity of my own existence.
  11. I respect the limits of my understanding.
  12. I am a seeker of truth, even in mystery.
  13. I cherish the journey of philosophical inquiry.
  14. I am fascinated by the nature of my own awareness.
  15. I approach life’s mysteries with wonder.
  16. I am content with not knowing everything.
  17. I explore my mind with patience and care.
  18. I am intrigued by the unexplainable.
  19. I trust in the power of thoughtful reflection.
  20. I am driven to ponder the nature of reality.
  21. I find strength in questioning the world around me.
  22. I am at ease with the unknown aspects of life.
  23. I value deep thought over easy answers.
  24. I am inspired by the endless quest for knowledge.
  25. I embrace the complexity of human experience.
  26. I am curious about the roots of my consciousness.
  27. I seek wisdom in the face of uncertainty.
  28. I am humbled by the vastness of what I cannot know.
  29. I find joy in exploring philosophical ideas.
  30. I am open to new perspectives on reality.
  31. I respect the intricate nature of thought.
  32. I am motivated to understand my own mind.
  33. I find peace in the mystery of existence.
  34. I am eager to learn, even when answers are unclear.
  35. I value the depth of human curiosity.
  36. I am inspired to think beyond the obvious.
  37. I embrace the challenge of difficult questions.
  38. I am at peace with the limits of my mind.
  39. I find meaning in the pursuit of understanding.
  40. I am captivated by the nature of awareness.
  41. I seek to grow through intellectual exploration.
  42. I am open to the possibility of unsolvable mysteries.
  43. I value the process of questioning reality.
  44. I am inspired by the depth of philosophical thought.
  45. I find strength in embracing uncertainty.
  46. I am curious about the essence of my being.
  47. I seek to understand life with an open mind.
  48. I am at peace with the unknowable.
  49. I find joy in the pursuit of wisdom.
  50. I am inspired to reflect on the nature of existence.

Main Ideas and Achievements of Colin McGinn

Colin McGinn has established himself as one of the most provocative and influential philosophers of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. His work spans a wide range of topics, including philosophy of mind, ethics, aesthetics, philosophy of language, and even literature. McGinn’s academic journey began with his education at the University of Manchester, where he earned a degree in psychology before transitioning to philosophy at Jesus College, Oxford. His intellectual curiosity and rigorous approach to philosophical problems have led to a prolific career marked by numerous publications and teaching positions at prestigious institutions such as University College London, Rutgers University, and the University of Miami.

One of McGinn’s most significant contributions to philosophy is his development of “new mysterianism,” a position in the philosophy of mind that addresses the problem of consciousness. McGinn argues that while consciousness is a natural phenomenon, humans may be inherently incapable of fully understanding it due to cognitive limitations. This view challenges both materialist and dualist accounts of the mind-body problem by suggesting that the issue is not necessarily a matter of metaphysics but rather a matter of epistemology. According to McGinn, just as a dog cannot comprehend quantum physics, humans may lack the conceptual tools necessary to grasp the true nature of consciousness. This perspective has sparked intense debate within philosophical circles, with some praising its humility and others criticizing it as a defeatist stance on one of philosophy’s central questions.

Beyond the philosophy of mind, McGinn has made substantial contributions to ethics, particularly through his exploration of moral psychology and the nature of ethical reasoning. In works such as “Ethics, Evil, and Fiction” (1997), McGinn examines how literature and art can illuminate moral concepts, arguing that fictional narratives offer unique insights into human behavior and ethical dilemmas. He posits that stories allow us to engage with moral issues in a way that abstract theorizing cannot, providing a visceral and emotional understanding of concepts like good and evil. This interdisciplinary approach, blending philosophy with literary analysis, showcases McGinn’s versatility as a thinker and his willingness to draw connections across seemingly disparate fields.

McGinn’s work in aesthetics further demonstrates his breadth as a philosopher. In books like “The Power of Movies” (2005), he explores how film, as an art form, shapes our perceptions and emotions. He argues that cinema has a unique capacity to manipulate time, space, and narrative in ways that other mediums cannot, creating a profound psychological impact on viewers. McGinn’s analysis of film as a philosophical tool highlights his innovative approach to traditional topics, pushing the boundaries of how aesthetics is studied and understood. His ability to connect philosophical inquiry with everyday experiences, such as watching a movie, makes his work accessible to a broader audience while maintaining intellectual rigor.

In addition to his academic contributions, McGinn has been a prominent public intellectual, engaging with wider audiences through essays, lectures, and reviews. His writing style is often noted for its clarity and wit, making complex philosophical ideas more approachable without sacrificing depth. This accessibility has helped him reach readers beyond the confines of academia, contributing to public discourse on topics ranging from consciousness to the ethics of genetic engineering. McGinn’s willingness to tackle controversial issues, such as the ethical implications of scientific advancements, has positioned him as a thought leader in contemporary philosophy.

McGinn’s career, however, has not been without controversy. In 2013, he resigned from his position at the University of Miami amid allegations of misconduct, which he denied. This incident led to significant discussion within the philosophical community about issues of power dynamics and professional ethics in academia. While this episode has undoubtedly affected his public image, it does not diminish the impact of his intellectual contributions, which continue to be studied and debated by scholars worldwide. McGinn’s ability to provoke thought—whether through his philosophical theories or his personal life—underscores his status as a polarizing yet undeniably influential figure.

Another key achievement in McGinn’s career is his extensive body of work on the philosophy of language. Drawing on the traditions of Wittgenstein and Chomsky, McGinn has explored how language shapes thought and how linguistic structures reflect deeper cognitive processes. His book “Philosophy of Language: The Classics Explained” (2015) provides an accessible introduction to seminal texts in the field, demonstrating his commitment to education and mentorship. McGinn’s analyses often emphasize the interplay between language and mind, arguing that our linguistic capacities are both a tool and a constraint in philosophical inquiry. This focus on language as a window into cognition ties into his broader interest in human limitations, a recurring theme across his work.

McGinn has also contributed to the philosophy of science, particularly in his discussions of evolutionary theory and its implications for understanding the mind. He argues that the human brain, as a product of natural selection, may be adapted for survival rather than for uncovering ultimate truths about the universe. This evolutionary perspective informs his mysterian stance on consciousness, suggesting that our cognitive faculties are shaped by practical needs rather than philosophical completeness. McGinn’s integration of scientific insights into philosophical debates exemplifies his interdisciplinary approach, bridging the gap between empirical research and speculative thought.

Throughout his career, McGinn has published over 20 books and countless articles, each contributing to the richness of contemporary philosophy. His ability to address timeless questions with fresh perspectives has earned him a lasting place in the field. Whether exploring the mysteries of consciousness, the moral lessons of literature, or the psychological impact of art, McGinn consistently challenges readers to think more deeply about their world. His intellectual achievements are a testament to the power of philosophy to illuminate the human condition, even when definitive answers remain elusive.

In summary, Colin McGinn’s main ideas and achievements revolve around his groundbreaking work in philosophy of mind, ethics, aesthetics, and language. His concept of new mysterianism has reshaped debates on consciousness, while his interdisciplinary analyses of literature and film have broadened the scope of philosophical inquiry. Despite personal controversies, McGinn’s contributions to philosophy remain profound, influencing both academic discourse and public thought. His career serves as a reminder of the importance of questioning, even when the answers lie beyond our reach, and his legacy continues to inspire those who grapple with the fundamental mysteries of existence.

Magnum Opus of Colin McGinn

Colin McGinn’s magnum opus is widely considered to be “The Mysterious Flame: Conscious Minds in a Material World,” published in 1999. This seminal work encapsulates his most influential ideas on the philosophy of mind, particularly his development of new mysterianism, and serves as a cornerstone of his intellectual legacy. In this book, McGinn addresses the “hard problem” of consciousness—how and why subjective experience arises from physical processes in the brain—and offers a provocative thesis that has shaped contemporary debates in philosophy. Spanning over 200 pages, “The Mysterious Flame” combines rigorous argumentation with accessible prose, making it a defining text for both scholars and general readers interested in the nature of mind and reality.

At the heart of “The Mysterious Flame” is McGinn’s argument that the problem of consciousness may be insoluble for human beings due to inherent cognitive limitations. He posits that while consciousness is undoubtedly a natural phenomenon, rooted in the material world, our minds are not equipped to fully comprehend the mechanisms by which physical processes give rise to subjective experience. McGinn likens this limitation to the inability of other species to grasp concepts beyond their cognitive capacities, suggesting that humans, too, have boundaries to what they can understand. This position, which he terms “cognitive closure,” challenges traditional approaches to the mind-body problem by shifting the focus from metaphysical dualism or materialism to epistemological constraints.

McGinn begins the book by outlining the historical context of the consciousness debate, referencing the works of philosophers like Descartes, Leibniz, and contemporary thinkers such as David Chalmers. He acknowledges the progress made by neuroscience in mapping brain functions but argues that such empirical advances do not bridge the explanatory gap between objective data and subjective experience. For McGinn, the qualitative nature of consciousness—often referred to as “what it is like” to have an experience—remains elusive, not because it involves a supernatural element, but because our conceptual framework is inadequate. He writes vividly about the frustration of this gap, using metaphors like the “flame” of consciousness to evoke its mysterious and intangible quality.

One of the most compelling aspects of “The Mysterious Flame” is McGinn’s rejection of both reductionist materialism and dualist theories. He critiques materialist accounts that attempt to reduce consciousness to brain states, arguing that such explanations fail to capture the essence of subjective experience. At the same time, he distances himself from dualism, which posits a fundamental separation between mind and body, by maintaining that consciousness must be a natural property of the physical world. McGinn’s middle-ground approach—acknowledging the material basis of mind while admitting our inability to fully explain it—offers a nuanced perspective that avoids the extremes of traditional positions. This balance is a hallmark of his philosophical style, blending skepticism with a commitment to naturalism.

Throughout the book, McGinn explores various implications of cognitive closure for philosophy and science. He suggests that if humans are indeed limited in understanding consciousness, then philosophical efforts to solve the problem may be futile, akin to chasing an unattainable goal. However, he does not view this as a cause for despair but rather as a call for humility. McGinn argues that recognizing our limitations can lead to a deeper appreciation of the mystery itself, encouraging philosophers to focus on describing and exploring consciousness rather than definitively explaining it. This shift in focus—from solution to contemplation—marks a significant departure from conventional approaches and has influenced subsequent discussions in the field.

Another key theme in “The Mysterious Flame” is the role of evolutionary biology in shaping human cognition. McGinn contends that the human brain evolved to solve practical problems related to survival, not to uncover the ultimate truths of the universe. As a result, our mental faculties may be ill-suited to grasp abstract or complex phenomena like the nature of consciousness. This evolutionary perspective adds a layer of scientific grounding to his philosophical argument, demonstrating McGinn’s ability to integrate insights from multiple disciplines. His discussion of evolution also ties into broader questions about the purpose and scope of human inquiry, prompting readers to consider whether some mysteries are meant to remain unsolved.

Critically, “The Mysterious Flame” has been both celebrated and contested within the philosophical community. Supporters praise McGinn for his candid acknowledgment of human limitations and his challenge to overly optimistic views of scientific progress. Critics, however, argue that his position risks stifling inquiry by suggesting that certain problems are inherently beyond reach. Despite these debates, the book’s impact is undeniable, as it has reframed the conversation around consciousness and inspired a generation of philosophers to grapple with the idea of cognitive closure. McGinn’s willingness to embrace uncertainty, rather than force a solution, has made “The Mysterious Flame” a touchstone for those who see philosophy as a discipline of questions rather than answers.

In terms of style, “The Mysterious Flame” stands out for its clarity and engagement with a wide audience. McGinn employs everyday examples and analogies to illustrate complex ideas, making the book accessible without sacrificing intellectual depth. His tone is often reflective, inviting readers to ponder the mysteries of their own minds alongside him. This approach contrasts with the dense, technical prose of many philosophical texts, positioning “The Mysterious Flame” as a work that bridges the gap between academic philosophy and public interest. McGinn’s ability to communicate profound ideas in an approachable manner is a key reason why this book is considered his magnum opus.

In conclusion, “The Mysterious Flame: Conscious Minds in a Material World” represents the pinnacle of Colin McGinn’s philosophical contributions. It encapsulates his innovative approach to the problem of consciousness, his interdisciplinary perspective, and his commitment to intellectual humility. By arguing for cognitive closure, McGinn challenges readers to rethink the goals of philosophical inquiry and embrace the mystery of existence. The book’s enduring relevance lies in its ability to provoke thought and inspire debate, cementing McGinn’s place as a leading thinker in the philosophy of mind. As a magnum opus, it not only defines his career but also serves as a profound meditation on the limits and wonders of human understanding.

Interesting Facts About Colin McGinn

Colin McGinn’s life and career are marked by a blend of intellectual brilliance, personal quirks, and public controversies that make him a fascinating figure in contemporary philosophy. Born on March 10, 1950, in West Hartlepool, a small industrial town in County Durham, England, McGinn grew up in a working-class family. His early life was shaped by the post-war environment of Britain, and his journey from a modest background to becoming a globally recognized philosopher is a testament to his determination and intellectual curiosity. Initially studying psychology at the University of Manchester, McGinn discovered his passion for philosophy during his undergraduate years, eventually pursuing graduate studies at Oxford University, one of the world’s leading centers for philosophical thought.

An interesting facet of McGinn’s personality is his love for literature and the arts, which often informs his philosophical work. Unlike many philosophers who focus solely on abstract theory, McGinn has a deep appreciation for novels, films, and theater, viewing them as vital sources of insight into human nature. This passion is evident in books like “Ethics, Evil, and Fiction,” where he analyzes moral themes in literary works, and “The Power of Movies,” which explores the psychological impact of cinema. His interdisciplinary approach sets him apart from his peers, as he frequently draws on cultural artifacts to enrich his philosophical arguments, demonstrating a rare ability to connect high theory with everyday experiences.

McGinn’s academic career has taken him across the globe, reflecting his status as an international scholar. After teaching at University College London, where he held a prestigious position, he moved to the United States to join Rutgers University in New Jersey. Later, he accepted a role at the University of Miami, where he worked until 2013. His transatlantic career highlights his adaptability and the global demand for his expertise, as well as his willingness to engage with diverse academic communities. McGinn’s lectures, known for their clarity and humor, have inspired countless students, many of whom have gone on to make their own contributions to philosophy.

Despite his intellectual achievements, McGinn’s life has not been without controversy. In 2013, he resigned from the University of Miami following allegations of inappropriate conduct with a graduate student, claims he has consistently denied. The incident sparked widespread debate within the academic world about ethics, power dynamics, and accountability in higher education. While this episode has cast a shadow over his reputation, it has also prompted important conversations about professional conduct in philosophy, a field historically dominated by male figures. McGinn’s personal challenges, juxtaposed with his intellectual contributions, paint a complex portrait of a thinker whose impact extends beyond his written work.

Another intriguing aspect of McGinn’s life is his eclectic range of interests outside philosophy. He has expressed a fascination with sports, particularly soccer, which he views as a microcosm of human competition and cooperation. Additionally, McGinn has written personal memoirs and reflections, offering glimpses into his thought process and life experiences. These writings reveal a philosopher who is not only concerned with abstract ideas but also with the lived realities of emotion, relationships, and personal growth. His ability to blend the personal with the philosophical adds depth to his public persona, making him a relatable yet enigmatic figure.

McGinn’s writing style is also noteworthy for its accessibility and wit. Unlike many academic philosophers whose work can be impenetrable to non-specialists, McGinn has a knack for explaining complex ideas in a straightforward, engaging manner. His use of humor and vivid imagery—such as describing consciousness as a “mysterious flame”—helps demystify abstract concepts, inviting readers into the world of philosophical inquiry. This talent for communication has made him a popular figure in public philosophy, as seen in his contributions to magazines, newspapers, and public lectures, where he often addresses topics of broad interest with clarity and insight.

In summary, Colin McGinn is a multifaceted individual whose life encompasses intellectual triumphs, cultural passions, and personal controversies. From his humble beginnings in England to his influential career in philosophy, McGinn’s journey reflects the complexity of human experience—a theme central to his work. His love for literature and film, his international academic presence, and his distinctive writing style all contribute to a rich and compelling story. While challenges in his personal life have sparked debate, they do not overshadow the profound impact of his ideas, which continue to resonate with scholars and readers around the world.

Daily Affirmations that Embody Colin McGinn Ideas

Below are 15 daily affirmations inspired by Colin McGinn’s philosophical concepts, particularly his views on consciousness, human limitations, and the value of questioning:

  1. I embrace the mystery of my mind each day.
  2. I accept that some truths may always elude me.
  3. I approach today’s questions with curiosity and humility.
  4. I find wonder in the unknown aspects of life.
  5. I value deep thought over simple answers today.
  6. I am at peace with the limits of my understanding.
  7. I seek to explore the nature of my awareness daily.
  8. I am inspired by the complexity of existence each morning.
  9. I cherish the journey of intellectual discovery today.
  10. I am open to pondering life’s greatest puzzles now.
  11. I find strength in embracing uncertainty today.
  12. I am curious about the roots of my own thoughts daily.
  13. I respect the boundaries of human cognition each day.
  14. I find joy in reflecting on reality right now.
  15. I am motivated to understand myself better today.

Final Word on Colin McGinn

Colin McGinn stands as a towering figure in contemporary philosophy, whose ideas on consciousness, ethics, and aesthetics have left an indelible mark on the field. His concept of new mysterianism, with its emphasis on cognitive closure, challenges us to reconsider the scope of human understanding and to approach life’s deepest mysteries with humility and wonder. Despite personal controversies that have complicated his legacy, McGinn’s intellectual contributions remain a source of inspiration and debate, reflecting the complexity of both his thought and his life. His ability to bridge abstract philosophy with cultural phenomena, such as literature and film, underscores his relevance beyond academia, inviting a broader audience to engage with profound questions. Ultimately, McGinn’s work reminds us that philosophy is not just about finding answers but about embracing the journey of inquiry itself, a lesson that continues to resonate in an ever-changing world.

Affirmations for AromatherapyAffirmations for TrustworthinessAffirmations for FilmmakersAffirmations for HomesicknessAffirmations for UnemploymentAffirmations For CodependentsAffirmations for PodcastingAffirmations for ConcentrationAffirmations for Turning 40Random Page

You Might Also Like

Affirmations Inspired by Robert Gilbert

Affirmations Inspired by Robert Gilbert

Affirmations Inspired by Russell Gray

Affirmations Inspired by Russell Gray

Affirmations Inspired by Phil Judd

Affirmations Inspired by Phil Judd

Affirmations for Trauma Psychology

Affirmations for Trauma Psychology

Affirmations for Opera Singing

Affirmations for Opera Singing

Affirmations for Opera

Affirmations for Opera

Affirmations Guide

Our mission with Affirmationsguide.com is to provide a trusted resource where individuals can find not only a wide array of affirmations for different aspects of life but also insights into the science behind affirmations and practical tips on incorporating them into daily routines. Whether you’re seeking to boost confidence, manifest success, or improve relationships, I’m here to guide you on your journey toward positive transformation.

 

 

❤️Affirmations Guide❤️

Affirmations Guide: Empower your mind with positive affirmations and unlock your full potential for a fulfilling life .

 

 

© 2025 Affirmations Guide.

 

[Текущая аффирмация]

 

 

 

Share

Comment from Robert Kuhn

/4 Comments/in /by

 

This is in regard to my “Meaning and Reality”.

 

Great piece, Colin; I read and save them all. Are you planning a book of ~75-100 of these?

New Scientist feature on Landscape of Consciousness, just published online, magazine forthcoming.
From me:

I’d love to publish a collection of them, but I have not been able to interest a publisher, probably because of my blacklisting. In fact I have over a thousand of them, which would fill 10 stout volumes. No publisher could take that on.

Colin
Share

Meaning and Reality

/5 Comments/in /by

Meaning and Reality

I am going to drill right into the heart of twentieth-century analytical philosophy, which includes its antecedents going back at least to the seventeenth century. This will be a major operation: the body of philosophy will be laid open on the operating table. I will not be pussyfooting around. The question is what the relation between meaning and reality is: is meaning a reliable guide to reality? If we knew the nature of meaning, would we know the nature of reality? Would a theory of meaning be a metaphysics? Would semantics give us ontology? Would the “inner world” of meaning disclose the “outer world” of reality? Does what you mean determine what is? Are speakers the measure of reality?

It might be thought that this could not be, simply because language is one thing and the world is another: how can the nature of A tell you the nature of B when A and B are totally different things? How can words tell you about worlds? That would be like chalk telling you about cheese, or biscuits telling you about numbers, or minds telling you about bodies. But this objection ignores an important point: language is about the world. It is trained on it, the object of its interest. As we like to say, language represents reality; it isn’t concerned just with itself. All talk is talk of. And language works: we can use language to guide our lives, precisely because it doesn’t get everything wrong. Meaning is practical, successful; meaning gets it done. It isn’t some giant illusion or hopeless balls-up. It can’t be disconnected from reality; it must track reality somehow. We could say that language is veridical, like perception. Short of radical skepticism, meaning is knowing: to mean is to know—fundamentally, by and large. Whatever confers meaning on words is known about, even if unconsciously. This is an axiom of analytical philosophy: meaning and knowing are inseparable—hence, whatever reality is, meaning has it in its sights. So, if we just knew the nature of meaning, we would know the nature of reality—it is whatever words mean. Sentences are a guide to facts. Meaning and metaphysics cannot come apart, on pain of convicting language of gross malfeasance. Or else we face a radical form of metaphysical nihilism (we will come back to this possibility).

We are concerned with the general nature of reality not particular facts: meaning won’t tell you whether the mail has been delivered, but it can tell you what, broadly, there is. It can tell you what kind of thing reality is, granted its veridicality. Here we enter familiar territory. We might say that meaning consists of objective truth conditions: a sentence means that such and such if and only if it is made true by such and such. That is, a sentence’s meaning consists in its being true in certain conditions, these conditions being (generally) such as to exist independently of language and indeed speakers. Meanings are constituted by objective states of affairs to which sentences (or their parts) refer. These states of affairs may obtain whether or not they can be verified to obtain (this is an aspect of their objectivity). Hence, bivalence holds: the sentence is true or false whether or not it can be determined as true of false. Accordingly, the nature of meaning entails metaphysical realism, granted veridicality. If sentences have a certain type of meaning, then reality mirrors that meaning—so, realism is the correct theory of reality given a truth conditions theory of meaning. The world is mind-independent. Since we knew that already, meaning is telling us the right thing. Still, it is good to know that we can derive realism from the theory of meaning. On the other hand, if meaning is constituted by verification conditions, we get a different result, namely: anti-realism is true, bivalence doesn’t hold, the world is fundamentally mind-dependent, and idealism is the indicated metaphysics. Sentences are about the methods and results of verification procedures not objective facts; these are inherently mind-dependent. Thus, we get a very different metaphysics from this semantic theory. The hope is that we can arrive at the correct metaphysics by investigating language, this being a more accessible and tractable domain (like looking at a train schedule to find out when the trains will come). Whereas truth conditions theory rests on objective facts, verification conditions theory rests on subject-centered facts. The metaphysics falls out of the semantics (imagine if we could do semantics by means of brain scans!).

What if we are enamored of Tarski-style truth theories? What kind of metaphysics would that suggest? One might think it to be neutral metaphysically, but there are certain natural metaphysical conclusions to draw from it. First, we will need to recognize sequences as constituents of reality (truth is satisfaction by all sequences). Second, we will not have to recognize properties or universals as real, since they are not referred to in the satisfaction axioms. Third, there will have to be sectors of reality corresponding to both the object language and the metalanguage, equipped with suitable ontologies. Fourth, we will be restricted to the resources of standard formal languages, which presuppose a subject-predicate structure, i.e., things and their attributes. Also, we will have to face the possibility that people can only make statements (no irreducibly imperative speech acts, etc.). What about the picture theory of meaning? That will tell us that the world is picturable: it is intelligible, compositional, geometric. There are no realities that can’t be rendered in pictorial form; everything can be seen with the eye (inner or outer). The picture theory is opposed to mysteries and the invisible. It is ontologically restrictive. The world must be either mathematical or artistic, depending on what kind of pictures we envisage.

Then we have sense-datum theories, image theories, use theories, and syntactic theories. According to sense-datum theories, meanings consist of collocations of sense-data; consequently, the world consists of sense-data in so far as it is meant. Neutral monism will be the indicated metaphysics; everything real is a construction from sense-data. So, the world (our world) is both mental and constructed, not physical and pre-formed. This is a world of mental creations. Image theories imagine meanings as sensory images hovering before the mind’s eye (not sense-data); this is what words are fundamentally about. Occam’s razor will recommend dispensing with anything else (such as external material objects); thus, reality consists of a sea of images. Nothing else can be deduced from meaning as such, and meaning is our guide in metaphysics. Why postulate anything else? This will be a form of idealism that recognizes only mental images (not actual percepts): imagist idealism. Even further out we reach use theories; here the metaphysical consequences are a lot stranger than has been generally acknowledged. For use is spread out in time, so meaning is too; but then, so is reality. Reality is always, so to speak, under construction. What words refer to is indeterminate until use has come to an end, which it may never do. Addition, say, is never a fully realized mathematical function, since “add” has a meaning that is continually unfolding over time. Use-in-time theories of meaning lead to a temporally extended metaphysics: nothing can be said to exist fully at any given time. Meaning is forever indeterminate, and so is reality. They are growing things, like organisms. Even more dramatically, pure syntactic theories will yield complete metaphysical nihilism: since there is no meaning, but only syntax, there is no reality. If words are meaningless, then reality is empty—reality-less. Language is about nothing, but language works, so there is nothing for it to be about. If language is veridical, i.e., not false and misleading, then its nature does not presuppose anything as what it is about; the correct metaphysics is therefore null and void, according to the basic axiom of analytical philosophy. Language tells the metaphysical truth, but it tells us that there is no meaning, i.e., it is not about anything; so, there is nothing out there for it to inform us about. Anti-meaning theories of language imply anti-reality theories of reality. No meaning, no world. Such is the methodology of analytical philosophy.

Is there any theory of meaning that is more metaphysically neutral? If there is, it won’t be much use as a road to a specific metaphysics. The best prospect here is a causal theory: meaning is fixed by whatever causes linguistic use. If external material objects cause it, then those objects must exist; if states of the nervous system cause it, then they are real; if God causes it, then theism is correct. But how do we know what causes linguistic use? It doesn’t look as if we can detect it introspectively or a priori. We don’t see the true causal story. We need a theory of it; but then, we need a prior theory of reality, i.e., a metaphysics. The one we naturally gravitate towards is the one suggested by perception, notably vision. This is the ontology of substances and accidents—discrete physical objects in all their glory. But then, the metaphysics doesn’t derive from a study of meaning but from our perception-based ontological commitments. We may as well look thereto arrive at our metaphysics and cut out the detour through language. The methodology of twentieth century philosophy is thereby abandoned. Our view of meaning is shaped by our prior metaphysical beliefs; not wholly, to be sure, but partially. We can’t simply read the metaphysics off the semantics, as if the latter was uncontaminated by the former. Nice try, then, but no cigar. The nature of meaning can’t be apprehended independently of the nature of reality. The two are interdependent, if anything. In a slogan: the nature of meaning is a function of grammar and reality.[1]

[1] I have not given references to the various philosophers alluded to in this paper, but old hands will know who I have in mind: Frege, Russell, Wittgenstein, Quine, Davidson, Dummett, Kripke, the logical positivists, the empiricists, the pragmatists, the ordinary language philosophers.

Share