zaterdag 22 december 2018

De collega's



Tijd voor de eindejaarsvraagjes.
"Met wie of wat hebt u in 2018 het hardst gelachen?"
Dat zou volgens de wetenschappelijke consensus de belangrijkste van de eindejaarsvraagjes zijn. En als het niet zo is, dan zou het dat moeten zijn.
Humor zal de wereld redden.
In 2018 heb ik, behalve met mezelf -want elke tekst is een lachen met mezelf, ik hoop dat u dat ooit zal inzien- ongetwijfeld het hardst gelachen met Joël De Ceulaer.
Dat is een loepzuivere ad hominem, dus in geen enkel opzicht wetenschappelijk. Laat dat alvast duidelijk zijn.
Hoewel totaal overbodig wegens los op kop, plaatste hij net voor kerstmis nog een verschroeiende demarrage.


Column



Joël De Ceulaer

Dat ik Filip Dewinter wél interview, en Paul Verhaeghe niet, krijg ik zelfs aan veel collega’s niet uitgelegd

- Joël De Ceulaer




1 Joël De Ceulaer. © Eric de Mildt

Joël De Ceulaer (1964) is senior writer bij De Morgen.
Ik interview liever Filip Dewinter dan Paul Verhaeghe. Sterker nog: ik héb Dewinter al een paar keer geïnterviewd en pieker er niet over om dat ooit te doen met Verhaeghe. Dat klinkt krankzinnig, daarvan ben ik mij bewust. Tenslotte is Dewinter een radicaal rechtse stokebrand en Verhaeghe een aimabele professor aan de UGent. 
Dat ik de ene wel en de andere niet aan het woord wil laten, is een persoonlijke keuze, die ik zelfs aan de meeste van mijn collega’s niet uitgelegd krijg. En misschien hebt u, waarde lezer, er ook uw bedenkingen bij. Sta mij dus toe dat ik mijzelf nader verklaar. Een journalist mag af en toe ook wel eens verantwoording afleggen.
Ik maak eerst een kleine omweg, want u vraagt zich wellicht af waarom ik daar ineens over begin. Dat zit zo: mijn chef heeft mij gevraagd om u in een eindejaars­column te vertellen waar ik in 2018 zoal van wakker lag. En de waarheid luidt dat ik zelden wakker lig. Ik leid momenteel, met gepaste dankbaarheid, een privé­leven dat mij veel vreugde en weinig gepieker verschaft. Wereld­problemen houden mij ook niet uit mijn slaap, omdat het nogal hoog­moedig zou zijn te denken dat ik die problemen kan oplossen. Ik ga ervan uit dat mensen die zeggen dat ze wakker liggen van klimaat of armoede, dat alleen figuurlijk doen. Niet letterlijk.
Ik ben dus niet zo’n wakker­ligger. Ik slaap goed en gerust. En dus dacht ik: laat ik dan maar schrijven over een professionele kwestie die mij dit jaar erg heeft bezig­gehouden, waar ik zo diep over heb nagedacht dat ik er af en toe figuurlijk van wakker lag.


En dat brengt ons dus bij Dewinter en Verhaeghe. Bij het verschil tussen democratie en wetenschap – want dáár gaat het om. Het is, onder meer, op dát cruciale verschil dat ik mijn beslissing baseer om bepaalde mensen al dan niet te interviewen.
In het democratisch debat wil ik de band­breedte zo groot mogelijk houden. Ik verwerp de ideeën van Dewinter met volle kracht, maar hij is wel de invloed­rijkste politicus van de voorbije 30 jaar – zonder hem hadden we nu nog een regering, om maar iets te noemen. En journalisten hebben de taak om, op kritische wijze uiteraard, ook radicale stemmen in het politieke veld aan het woord te laten. Volgens mij, toch. Die overtuiging leidt ertoe dat ik soms controversiële keuzes maak, die iedereen heftig mag afkeuren en betwisten – zo interviewde ik dit jaar zelfs Dries Van Langenhove, weliswaar vóór de Pano-reportage, maar goed: toen ik hem sprak, klonk hij al behoorlijk radicaal.
Hoe kom ik er dan bij, denkt u nu, om een veto te stellen tegen Paul Verhaeghe? Wel, omdat we ons met hem niet in het democratische, maar in het wetenschappelijke debat bevinden. En er bestaat een fundamenteel verschil tussen democratie en wetenschap.

Als het over democratische keuzes gaat, bestaat De Waarheid niet: wel of geen migratie­pact, meer of minder belastingen, kern­energie of zonne­panelen – politici discussiëren daarover, en wie de meeste stemmen behaalt (of een meerderheid kan vormen) krijgt het voor het zeggen. In de wetenschap is dat anders. Daar wordt niet gestemd, maar is de werkelijkheid de baas. Wie wil weten of zijn of haar hypothese deugt, moet die onderwerpen aan empirische of experimentele toetsing. Zo komen wetenschappers – stapje per stapje – tot betere en juistere inzichten over mens en wereld, die de waarheid soms ontbloten en in elk geval steeds dichter benaderen. De wetenschap is een methode om aan waarheids­vinding te doen, de democratie is een methode om de samenleving te organiseren.
Daarom verdient het wetenschappelijke debat, volgens mij althans, minder band­breedte dan het democratische. Wie nog altijd denkt dat de aarde plat is, heeft ongelijk – en ga ik niet interviewen. Wie zegt dat homeo­pathische middelen een werkzaam bestand­deel bevatten, zit ernaast – en ga ik niet interviewen. Wie vindt dat kinderen maar beter niet worden gevaccineerd, vertelt pertinente onzin – en ga ik niet interviewen. Wie beweert dat de aarde niet opwarmt, of dat de mens daar niets mee te maken heeft, zet zich buiten de wetenschappelijke consensus – en ga ik niet interviewen.

En psycho­analytici zoals Verhaeghe, die beweren dat mensen trauma’s zoals seksueel misbruik jarenlang kunnen verdringen tot een therapeut die herinnering weer naar boven haalt, druisen even hard in tegen de wetenschappelijke consensus als klimaat­negationisten, want ook voor die stelling bestaat geen enkele evidentie. Daarom, dus: wel Dewinter, geen Verhaeghe.
Maar wees het gerust met mij oneens. Journalistiek is ook geen wetenschap.

Vraagje voor Joël De Ceulaer:
Psychoanalytici zoals Verhaeghe, zijn dat wetenschappers?
Iemand die zich buiten de wetenschappelijke consensus zet, is dat nog een wetenschapper?
Indien het antwoord op die laatste vraag "neen" luidt, dan is Paul Verhaeghe topprioriteit voor Joël De Ceulaer in 2019. Ik kijk er nu al naar uit.
Indien het antwoord op die vraag "ja" luidt, dan is er de ongemakkelijke vraag in hoeverre het aangehaalde voorbeeld nog als een wetenschappelijke consensus beschouwd kan worden?
Als er "veel" wetenschappers - "veel" zoals in "veel" collega's - een andere mening op nahouden, kunnen we dan nog van een "consensus" spreken?
Dat laatste is waarschijnlijk een persoonlijke keuze.

Ik wens u een jaar vol Joël De Ceulaer.

zaterdag 15 december 2018

Jan Jambon


De wereld gaat ten onder aan een gebrek aan spitsen.
Er is geen spitsheid meer te ontwaren bij politici, filosofen, journalisten.

Francken zegt: zonder een exit uit het pact treden wij niet toe tot de nieuwe regering. Voor hem lijkt dat een breekpunt. Voor u niet?
"Mijn principes laat ik niet los, maar ik lanceer geen breekpunten vooraf."

En dan over naar de volgende vraag.
Een spits die zichzelf zonder schroom nog spits durft te noemen kan deze kans toch niet laten liggen?
"Wat is het verschil tussen een principe en een breekpunt?"

Spitse humor vind ik dat.


woensdag 5 december 2018

Hendrik Vuye



"Vuye en Wouters steunen resolutie niet
Hendrik Vuye (Vuye & Wouters) laat weten dat hij de resolutie niet zal steunen. Volgens hem zal het Migratiepact gebruikt worden als 'soft law', waardoor rechters de tekst als interpretatiekader gaan gebruiken."

'Wij gaan die resolutie niet steunen, om twee grote redenenen,' zegt Hendrik Vuye in naam van hemzelf en Veerle Wouters.
'Ten eerste: het pact gaat gebruikt worden als soft law door rechters, als interpretatiekader. Alle zes experten hebben dat gisteren bevestigd, dat rechters het konden gebruiken.' De tweede reden: 'Wij hebben nooit geloofd in zo'n stemverklaring of inlegblaadje,' zegt Vuye over de interpretatieve nota die de regering wil opstellen om de juridische rijkweidte in te perken.


Een interpretatie van hoe de rechters de tekst zullen interpreteren.
De rechters zullen zich in hun uitspraak niet op zichzelf beroepen, neen, ze zullen zich beroepen op de tekst die voor hen ligt. De voorliggende tekst zal hen dwingen in een welbepaalde richting uitspraak te doen. De rechters moeten de tekst interpreteren zoals Vuye & Wouters de tekst interpreteren.
Maar hoe interpreteren Vuye & Wouters de tekst nu precies?
Vuye & Wouters interpreteren de tekst als een interpretatiekader.
Dat betekent dat rechters zich in hun uitspraak niet op zichzelf zullen beroepen, neen, ze zullen zich beroepen op de tekst die voor hen ligt.....

donderdag 29 november 2018

Olivier Lemeire



Olivier Lemeire heeft een essaywedstrijd gewonnen.

https://bijnaderinzien.org/2018/11/19/taalfilosofie-voor-factcheckers/

Kritiek op een winnaar geven is nogal tricky.
Vooral voor factcheckers dan, niet voor taalfilosofen. Of toch niet voor taalfilosofen in de traditie van Wittgenstein.

"The idea that in order to get clear about the meaning of a general term one had to find the common element in all its applications has shackled philosophical investigation; for it has not only led to no result, but also made the philosopher dismiss as irrelevant the concrete cases, which alone could have helped him understand the usage of the general term."

Bij deze een concreet geval.
Ik heb van 1985 tot 2010 in de gevangenis gezeten voor verkrachting. Sindsdien leid ik een vrij ordinair leven als taalfilosoof.

zaterdag 24 november 2018

Francesca Minerva


The journal of controversial ideas.

Een nieuw tijdschrift. En een interview uiteraard.

Mag iedereen er onder een pseudoniem over publiceren in uw tijdschrift straks?
Waarom niet? We zullen de lat wel hoog leggen. We zijn niet van plan om artikelen te publiceren waarin de Holocaust wordt ontkend, om maar een dwaas voorbeeld te geven. Maar gevaarlijke en choquerende ideeën die goed worden onderbouwd zijn welkom.

Pech voor Ioannes Coalemus.


dinsdag 30 oktober 2018

zaterdag 6 oktober 2018

Charlotte Vandermeersch


IS ER IEMAND
IN DE ZAAL
DIE MIJ DE BETEKENIS
VAN VERANDEREN
KAN UITLEGGEN ?

woensdag 28 maart 2018

Sophia





 “Wittgensteinian approaches to moral philosophy” was the theme of a philosophical conference at the university of Leuven.
I submitted a paper, but it was not selected.
What was I thinking!
The idea that Wittgenstein scholars would be attracted to a Wittgenstein lover was one of my worst ideas ever. And believe me, I've had bad ideas.
Without the slightest feeling of rancour, let me assure you, I would like to make an existential remark.
Wittgenstein attended in his life only one conference.
Never having seen Wittgenstein before, he [Mabbott] assumed that this [Wittgenstein] was a student on vacation who did not know this hostel had been given over to those attending the conference. 'I'm afraid there is a gathering of philosophers going on here', he said kindly. Wittgenstein replied darkly: 'I too'.
(Ray Monk in his biography of Wittgenstein)
The POSSIBILITY that Wittgenstein would make the same remark in the present crossed your mind?
I strongly believe in the possibility that you might like reading my essay.

Wittgenstein is considered as one of the most important philosophers of the twentieth century. He had a somewhat atypical career. When he was having legendary discussions with philosophers like Frege, Moore and Russell at the age of twenty-five he didn’t even have a BA in philosophy. Although he taught at Cambridge, he didn’t get his PhD until he was forty years old. On this occasion, he said to his examiners Moore and Russell when they raised some questions: “Don’t worry, I know you’ll never understand.” Would that be possible today?  Telling examiners that they don’t understand your dissertation and getting a degree from them? During his lifetime Wittgenstein published only one little book, the Tractatus Logico Philosophicus. To his own bewilderment, he had great difficulty in getting it published. He wrote a lot, but except for an article “Some remarks on logical form”, he never published anything else. He was sort of a Van Gogh of the philosophers. As far as ethics is concerned, Wittgenstein gave only one lecture which dealt exclusively with ethics and he made a rather radical statement in it. So, it’s not a great deal of work to become a specialist in the moral philosophy of Wittgenstein.

WITTGENSTEINIAN APPROACHES TO MORAL PHILSOSOPHY.
 (Why Wittgenstein won’t ridicule me.)

This title assumes that anyone who submits a paper understands Wittgenstein. Or that the author at least believes that he understands Wittgenstein. If this was not the case, it couldn’t be Wittgensteinian approaches, it would be the author’s approaches. However, considering that Wittgenstein himself emphasised on numeral occasions that nearly no one did understand him, it is a bold statement to claim that you understand Wittgenstein. It’s even bold to claim that you believe you understand Wittgenstein.
“Perhaps this book will be understood only by someone who has himself had the thoughts that are expressed in it – or at least similar thoughts” is written in the Tractatus.
“What are these thoughts” seems to be the first object of investigation when you want to look deeper into this proposition.  What is the essence of the book? What is the essence of Wittgenstein’s philosophy in general?  However, since I am inclined to believe that the book is understood only by someone who has himself had the thoughts that are expressed in it, I would like to postpone this subject for obvious reasons: I already know what these thoughts are, I already know what the essence of the book is, I already know the essence of Wittgenstein’s philosophy. So why would there be any need to explain this?
Instead, I would like to start with the question “When did you have these thoughts?” It must be obvious that “these thoughts” are prior to the reading of his book. It’s not my intention to play hide and seek in this matter. As “these thoughts” were overwhelming to me, I know exactly where and when I had them. August 2010, at that time I hadn’t read a single word of Wittgenstein. Quite a reference, isn’t it. For obvious reasons, I forgot to mention this in my abstract.
Let me try to explain.






This is a picture of a ring box that is on the dressing table of our bedroom.
For years and years, this was a very familiar picture. I watched it every morning and every night.
It’ s my wedding ring. I almost never wear it because in my work there is a danger that my finger gets ripped off and even worse, the insurance company won’t pay a dime if it turns out that you wore a ring at that time.
Now, imagine my surprise when one evening some months ago I found the box like this.





The ring next to mine is a ring a gave to my wife when we were a couple for a year or so. She had worn it ever since. I never knew her take it off. What the hell was going on?
I found out when I took the ring out of the box.



The ring was broken. I have to admit that the ring hadn’t cost a fortune back then, we were teenagers and teenagers don’t have a lot of money. But still, I wanted to make a proposition if you know what I mean, so I definitely wanted it to be a real ring.
As I said, my wife wore it every single day. And each and every day the ring became thinner and thinner, each and every day it became a little less of a ring. Until one day it’s broken, until one day it’s no longer a ring. It has lost the essence of being a ring. It has become another object. If I ask you to give a definition of a ring and this object fits into that definition, then every object could be qualified as a ring, it would be a completely useless definition of a ring.
And yet, I still can refer to this object as a ring. If I would ask my wife what happened to her ring, she would understand perfectly well what I was talking about. Even to you I can refer to this object as a ring.
Maybe… maybe, maybe, maybe, I can refer to this object as a ring not despite it has lost his essence but because, BECAUSE IT HAS LOST HIS ESSENCE!
Maybe this is what the thoughts of Wittgenstein are. After all, it’s a rather nonsensical thought.
(“My propositons are elucidatory in this way: he who understands me finally recognizes them as senseless, when he has climbed out through them, on them, over them.”)
Now, you may disagree. Or maybe you nod in agreement, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you understand it. Nothing wrong with that. I don’t want to discuss what Wittgenstein’s thoughts are. It would be a nice side effect if there would be a glimpse of recognition, but I only want to make clear that the way Wittgenstein came to his thoughts are like the ring. You might come close to these thoughts, you might come a little bit closer every single day, but you should realise that in the end there is only one moment that counts.
That is the moment when the ring breaks.

Convinced that the thoughts that are expressed in the Tractatus came in a similar sudden way to Wittgenstein, I want to give a suggestion when this happened to him. When did Ludwig Wittgenstein had these thoughts for the first time? When did he see clearly, as it were in a flash of light, the essence of his philosophy?
This was on the tenth of May 1915.

When Wittgenstein was nineteen he read “The Principles of Mathematics” by Bertrand Russell and from this day on he would focus on the fundamentals of logic. He was convinced that he offered an answer for the fundamentals in his Tractatus. (“On the other hand the truth of the thoughts communicated here seems to me unassailable and definitive. I am, therefore, of the opinion that problems have in essentials been finally solved.”)
 All his writings before the tenth of May 1915 should be considered as an account of his search for these essentials.
In his notebooks 1914-1916 Wittgenstein is continuously asking questions.
20.09.1914
“How can a function refer to a proposition? Always the old, old questions. Don’t let yourself get overwhelmed with questions; just take it easy.”

He’s looking for answers, but he doesn’t seem to find them.
29.09.1914
“The solution to all my questions must be extremely simple.”

He gets frustrated.
09.10.1914
In all these considerations I am somewhere making some sort of  FUNDAMENTAL MISTAKE.”

Wittgenstein is desperately looking for a theory.
23.10.1914
“On the one hand my theory of logical portrayal seems to be the only possible one, on the other hand there seems to be an insoluble contradiction in it!”

In this process of his constant thinking he gives himself advise.
01.11.1914
“Don’t get involved in partial problems, but always take flight to where there is a free view over the whole single great problem, even if this view is still not a clear one.
03.11.1914
“Only don’t lose the solid ground on which you have just been standing.”
15.11.1914
“Don’t worry about what you have already written. Just keep on beginning to think afresh as if nothing at all had happened yet.”

Wittgenstein thinks he knows what the problem is.
25.11.1914
“It is the dualism, positive and negative facts, that give me no peace. For such a dualism can’t exist. But how to get away from it?”

But he cannot find an answer.
15.04.1915
“I am almost inclined to give up all my efforts.”

By the ninth of May, he is on the verge of getting to the end.
09.05.1915
But it is clear that components of our propositions can be analysed
by means of a definition, and must be, if we want to approximate
to the real structure of the proposition. At any rate, then, there is a process
of analysis. And can it not now be asked whether this process comes to
an end? And if so: What will the end be?
If it is true that every defined sign signifies via its definitions then
presumably the chain of definitions must some time have an end.
But does not that of itself presuppose that the class of all propositions
is given us? And how do we arrive at it?”

And then, on the tenth of May, Wittgenstein writes nothing.
Of course, there are a lot of days in his notebooks when Wittgenstein writes nothing. But this is different. Wittgenstein writes “nothing”. That means, he writes the date in his notebook. And then nothing else. When his notebooks were published, the editors omitted this date as if it was insignificant. You can find the date only written in the facsimile. The importance of saying nothing or writing nothing is very often underestimated. You cannot find another entry in his notebooks where Wittgenstein writes nothing but the date.




The next day Wittgenstein tries to formulate the answer he found.
11.05.1915
“Is the logical sum of two tautologies a tautology in the first sense?
Is there really such a thing as the duality: tautology — contradiction?
The simple thing for us is: the simplest thing that we are acquainted
with. The simplest thing which our analysis can attain — it need
appear only as a protopicture, as a variable in our propositions—  that is
the simple thing that we mean and look for.”

Actually, Wittgenstein did write something on the tenth of May 1915.
It was in his secret diary.
10.05.1915
“MUCH excitement! Was close to CRYING!!! Feel broken and sick! Surrounded by vulgarity”
Although this “surrounded by vulgarity” fits into the general atmosphere of this entry, it must be noted that is a line which appears frequently in his secret diary. The first part however is very unique.
The original words in German:
“VIEL Aufregung! War nahe am WEINEN!!!! Fühle mich wie gebrochen und krank!“

Was close to crying (War nahe am weinen).
Tell me about it.

Until the tenth of May, Wittgenstein is thinking within the boundaries of the ring. Every word he writes is like a grain of sand that scrapes against the gold of the ring. Every grain of sand asks the question “Is it now?”
Every proposition can be questioned in this way.
For example: “I have a piece of paper in my hand.”
“Have you now?”, is a more logical question to be asked, more adapted to the particular proposition, but that would lead us to an infinite number of questions.
However, if we reformulate the above mentioned proposition as “It is true that I have a piece of paper in my hand.” Then actually, every proposition can be questioned with “Is it now?”.
Now this “now” is the most important word in the question because this “now” is the exact moment when I’m picking up a piece of paper. Or dropping it.

This ‘now’ is the most important word in the question.
“Is it now?”
Another grain of sand scraping against the ring.
Until the ring breaks, until Wittgenstein understands.
But then again, what is it he understands?
The answer to this question would have to be a nonsensical expression.
All that can be done is providing grains of sand, providing grains of sand as much as possible. That is what all his writings after the tenth of May are all about. They are nothing more, but also nothing less than invitations to think. Mind you, it is a special kind of thinking, it is a thinking that goes on within his consciousness in a seclusion in comparison with which any physical seclusion is an exhibition to public view.”

With this in mind I would like to focus on Wittgenstein’s Lecture on Ethics.
“The absolute good, if it is a describable state of affairs, would be one which everybody, independent of his tastes and inclinations, would necessarily bring about or feel guilty for not bringing about. And I want to say that such a state of affairs is a chimera”
I think there is little scope for interpretation here.
The absolute good is a chimera.
Categorical.
However, there might be more than one option in the way we deal with this chimera.
At this point Wittgenstein makes a distinction between his audience and himself
You will say: Well, if certain experiences constantly tempt us to attribute a quality to them which we call absolute or ethical value and importance, this simply shows that by these words we don't mean nonsense, that after all what we mean by saying that an experience has absolute value is just a fact like other facts and that all it comes to is that we have not yet succeeded in finding the correct logical analysis of what we mean by our ethical and religious expressions.
Now when this is urged against me I at once see clearly, as it were in a flash of light, not only that no description that I can think of would do to describe what I mean by absolute value, but that I would reject every significant description that anybody could possibly suggest, ab initio, on the ground of its significance. That is to say: I see now that these nonsensical expressions were not nonsensical because I had not yet found the correct expressions, but that their nonsensicality was their very essence. For all I wanted to do with them was just to go beyond the world and that is to say beyond significant language. My whole tendency and I believe the tendency of all men who ever tried to write or talk Ethics or Religion was to run against the boundaries of language. This running against the walls of our cage is perfectly, absolutely hopeless. Ethics so far as it springs from the desire to say something about the ultimate meaning of life, the absolute good, the absolute valuable, can be no science. What it says does not add to our knowledge in any sense. But it is a document of a tendency in the human mind which I personally cannot help respecting deeply and I would not for my life ridicule it.
I think that it is safe to say that the whole tendency of Wittgenstein was to refute his own statements. There was always something to add in his writings, there was always something new in his writings, there was always something to change in his writings. He never finished writing.
Wittgenstein writes: “My whole tendency and I believe the tendency of all men who ever tried to write or talk Ethics or Religion was to run against the boundaries of language.”
It must be obvious that without the negation of this sentence, we have to admit that it is not possible to write or talk Ethics. Without the negation of this sentence, the whole subject of ethics falls within the realm of relativism. Or perhaps even worse, if it would not be possible to negate this proposition, it would place ethics in the mystical region as Bertrand Russell pointed out in his introduction of the Tractatus. “The whole subject of ethics, for example, is placed by Mr. Wittgenstein in the mystical, inexpressible region”, he writes.
Now Mr. Wittgenstein was not at all happy with this introduction. He was convinced that Bertrand Russell didn’t understand him, so the odds that Mr. Russell is right about this are very poor. It is indeed possible to deny this proposition. But the real challenge is of course to reject the proposition in a Wittgensteinian way. Let’s not forget that it is our aim to formulate Wittgensteinian approaches. It seems like a catch 22. How to make a Wittgensteinian approach to moral philosophy while Wittgenstein himself claimed that all men who ever tried to do this was to run against the boundaries of language?

In order to do this, it’s necessary to understand Wittgenstein. There is no intellectual challenge to understand at all. But at the very same time, it’s a huge assignment.
 “What has to be overcome is not difficulty of the intellect but of the will.”
(Nicht eine Schwierigkeit des Verstandes, sondern des Willens ist zu überwinden.)

It’s not possible to explain Wittgenstein, it’s only possible to provide some grains of sand.
A grain of sand that keeps on nagging your brain.
Here is a grain of sand:
There are no boundaries of language. There are no boundaries because they exist.(1)






(1) When reading Wittgenstein, one must ask himself whether Wittgenstein is explaining a language game or playing a language game.


zaterdag 10 maart 2018

Paula Sémer


Vanmorgen sprak Paula Sémer mij toe tijdens het ontbijt.

"In hun binnenste weten alle vrouwen dat ze nog niet gelijkwaardig zijn aan mannen."
Paula Sémer (De Morgen).

Wat zou het vreemd zijn als mijn vrouw mij op één of andere ochtend zou zeggen:
"Diep in mijn binnenste weet ik dat ik niet gelijkwaardig ben aan jou."



zaterdag 3 maart 2018

John Maynard Keynes

I like quotes.

Here is a quote from Nietzsche.

I would repeat it, however, a hundred times, that ‘immediate certainty,’ as
well as ‘absolute knowledge’ and the ‘thing in itself,’ involve a CONTRADICTIO IN ADJECTO; we really ought to free ourselves from the
misleading significance of words.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond good and evil.

However, these days you're not making yourself very popular quoting Nietzsche.
More and more he gets associated with that villainous "postmodernist" discours.
No, better quote Hannah Arendt instead.
A quote which actually circulates the internet this moment.

“The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction [..] and the distinction between true and false [..] no longer exists.”

He or she who best succeeds in hiding the adjective from the noun is more likely to be quoted.
'the existing totalitarianism'

Another quote that attracted my attention this week was a quote from John Maynard Keynes.


'changing facts'.
Actually, it is far from certain that this quote can be attributed to Johan Maynard Keynes. How ironic! I have found a changing fact!


zaterdag 27 januari 2018

The family man

https://blog.apaonline.org/2018/01/25/the-problem-with-scientism/






The Problem with Scientism


By Massimo Pigliucci
Science is unquestionably the most powerful approach humanity has developed so far to the understanding of the natural world. There is little point in arguing about the spectacular successes of fundamental physics, evolutionary and molecular biology, and countless other fields of scientific inquiry. Indeed, if you do, you risk to quickly slide into self-contradictory epistemic relativism or even downright pseudoscience.
That said, there is a pernicious and increasingly influential strand of thought these days — normally referred to as “scientism” — which is not only a threat to every other discipline, including philosophy, but risks undermining the credibility of science itself. In these days of crisis in the humanities, as well as in the social sciences, it is crucial to distinguish valid from ill-founded criticism of any academic effort, revisiting once more what C.P. Snow famously referred to as the divide between “the two cultures.”
First off, what is scientism, exactly? Sometimes it pays to go back to the basics, in this case to the Merriam-Webster concise definition: “An exaggerated trust in the efficacy of the methods of natural science applied to all areas of investigation (as in philosophy, the social sciences, and the humanities).” But surely this is a straw man. Who really fits that description? Plenty of prominent and influential people, as it turns out. Let me give you a few examples:
Author Sam Harris, when he argues that science can by itself provide answers to moral questions and that philosophy is not needed. (e.g., “Many of my critics fault me for not engaging more directly with the academic literature on moral philosophy … I am convinced that every appearance of terms like ‘metaethics,’ ‘deontology,’ [etc.] … directly increases the amount of boredom in the universe.”)
Science popularizer Neil deGrasse Tyson (and physicists Lawrence Krauss and Stephen Hawking, science educator Bill Nye, among others), when he declares philosophy useless to science (or “dead,” in the case of Hawking). (e.g., “My concern here is that the philosophers believe they are actually asking deep questions about nature. And to the scientist it’s, what are you doing? Why are you concerning yourself with the meaning of meaning?” —N. deGrasse Tyson; also: “I think therefore I am. What if you don’t think about it? You don’t exist anymore? You probably still exist.” —B. Nye).
Any number of neuroscientists when they seem to believe that “your brain on X” provides the ultimate explanation for whatever X happens to be.
Science popularizer Richard Dawkins, when he says “science” disproves the existence of God (while deploying what he apparently does not realize are philosophical arguments informed by science).
A number of evolutionary psychologists (though not all of them!) when they make claims that go well beyond the epistemic warrant of the evidence they provide. Literature scholars (and biologists like E.O. Wilson) when they think that an evolutionary, data-driven approach tells us much that is insightful about, say, Jane Austin.
The list could go on, for quite a bit. Of course, we could have reasonable discussions about any individual entry above, but I think the general pattern is clear enough. Scientism is explicitly advocated by a good number of scientists (predictably), and even some philosophers. A common line of defense is that the term should not even be used because it is just a quick way for purveyors of fuzzy religious and pseudoscientific ideas to dismiss anyone who looks critically at their claims.
This is certainly the case. But it is no different from the misuse of other words, such as “pseudoscience” itself, or “skepticism” (in the modern sense of a critical analysis of potentially unfounded claims). Still, few people would reasonably argue that we should stop using a perfectly valid word just because it is abused by ideologically driven groups. If that were being the case, the next version of the Merriam-Webster would be pretty thin…
Philosopher of science Susan Haack has proposed an influential list of six signs of scientistic thinking, which — with some caveats and modifications — can be usefully deployed in the context of this discussion.
The first sign is when words like “science” and “scientific” are used uncritically as honorific terms of epistemic praise. For instance, in advertisement: “9 out of 10 dentists recommend brand X.” More ominously, when ethically and scientifically ill-founded notions, such as eugenics, gain a foothold in society because they are presented as “science.” Let us not forget that between 1907 and 1963, 64,000 American citizens were forcibly sterilized because of eugenic laws.
The second of Haack’s signs is the adoption of the manners and terminology of science regardless of whether they are useful or not. My favorite example is a famous paper published in 2005 in American Psychologist by Barbara Fredrickson and Marcial Losada. They claimed — “scientific” data in hand — that the ratio of positive to negative emotions necessary for human flourishing is exactly 2.9013 to 1. Such precision ought to be suspicious at face value, even setting aside that the whole notion of the existence of an ideal, universal ratio of positive to negative emotions is questionable in the first place. Sure enough, a few years later, Nicholas Brown, Alan Sokal, and Harris Friedman published a skating rebuttal of the Fredrickson-Losada paper, tellingly entitled “The complex dynamics of wishful thinking: The critical positivity ratio.” Unfortunately, the original paper is still far more cited than the rebuttal.
Third, scientistically-oriented people tend to display an obsession with demarcating science from pseudoscience. Here I think Haack is only partially correct, as my observation is rather that scientistic thinking results in an expansion of the very concept of “science”, almost making it equivalent with rationality itself. It is only as a byproduct that pseudoscience is demarcated from science, and moreover, a lot of philosophy and other humanistic disciplines tend to be cast as “pseudoscience” if they somehow dare assert even a partial independence from the natural sciences. This, of course, is nothing new, and amounts to a 21st century (rather naive) version of logical positivism:
The criterion which we use to test the genuineness of apparent statements of fact is the criterion of verifiability. We say that a sentence is factually significant to any given person, if, and only if, he knows how to verify the proposition which it purports to express — that is, if he knows what observations would lead him, under certain conditions, to accept the proposition as true, or reject it as being false. — A.J. Ayer (Language, Truth, and Logic)
The fourth sign of scientism has to do with a preoccupation with identifying a scientific method to demarcate science from other activities. A good number of scientists, especially those writing for the general public, seem blissfully unaware of decades of philosophical scholarship questioning the very idea of the scientific method. When we use that term, do we refer to inductivism, deductivism, adbuctivism, Bayesianism, or what?
The philosophical consensus seems to be that there is no such thing as a single, well-identified scientific method, and that the sciences rely instead on an ever-evolving toolbox, which moreover is significantly different between, say, ahistorical (physics) and historical (evolutionary biology) sciences, or between the natural and social sciences.
Here too, however, the same problem that I mentioned above recurs: contra Haack, proponents of scientism do not seem to claim that there is a special scientific method, but on the contrary, that science is essentially co-extensive with reason itself. Once again, this isn’t a philosophically new position:
If we take in our hand any volume; of divinity or school metaphysics, for instance; let us ask, Does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quantity or number? No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence? No. Commit it then to the flames: for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion — David Hume (An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding).
Both Ayer’s verifiability criterion and Hume’s fork suffer from serious philosophical problems, of course, but to uncritically deployed them as a blunt instrument against in defense of scientism is simply a result of willful and abysmal illiteracy.
Next to last, comes an attitude that seeks to deploy science to answer questions beyond its scope. It seems to me that it is exceedingly easy to come up with questions that either science is wholly unequipped to answer, or for which it can at best provide a (welcome!) degree of relevant background knowledge. I will leave it to colleagues in other disciplines to arrive at their own list, but as far as philosophy is concerned, the following list is just a start:
  • In metaphysics: what is a cause?
  • In logic: is modus ponens a type of valid inference?
  • In epistemology: is knowledge “justified true belief”?
  • In ethics: is abortion permissible once the fetus begins to feel pain?
  • In aesthetics: is there a meaningful difference between Mill’s “low” and “high”
    pleasures?
  • In philosophy of science: what role does genetic drift play in the logical structure of
    evolutionary theory?
  • In philosophy of mathematics: what is the ontological status of mathematical objects, such as numbers?
The scientific literature on all the above is basically non-existent, while the philosophical one is huge. None of the above questions admits of answers arising from systematic observations or experiments. While empirical notions may be relevant to some of them (e.g., the one on abortion), it is philosophical arguments that provide the suitable approach.
Lastly, a sixth sign of scientism is the denial or denigration of the usefulness of nonscientific activities, particularly within the humanities. Saying that philosophy is “useless” because it doesn’t contribute to solving scientific problems (deGrasse Tyson, Hawking, Krauss, Nye), betrays a fundamental misunderstanding (and let’s be frank, simple ignorance) of what philosophy is. Ironically, the scientistic take could be turned on its head: on what empirical grounds, for instance, can we arrive at the value judgment that cosmology is “more important” than literature? Is the only thing that matters the discovery of facts about the natural world? Why? And while we are at it, why exactly do we take for granted that money spent on a new particle accelerator shouldn’t be spent on, say, cancer research? I’m not advocating such a position, I am simply pointing out that there is no scientific evidence that could settle the matter, and that scientistically-inclined writers tend, as Daniel Dennett famously said in Darwin’s Dangerous Idea, to take on board a lot of completely unexamined philosophical baggage.
In the end, it all comes down to what we mean by “science.” Perhaps we can reasonably agree that this is a classic example of a Wittgensteinian “family resemblance” concept, i.e., something that does not have precise boundaries, nor is it amenable to a precise definition in terms of necessary and jointly sufficient conditions. But as a scientist and a philosopher of science, I tend to see “science” as an evolving beast, historically and culturally situated, similar to the in-depth analysis provided by Helen Longino in her book, Science as Social Knowledge.
Science is a particular ensemble of epistemic and social practices — including a more or less faulty system of peer review, granting agencies, academic publications, hiring practices, and so on. This is different from “science” as it was done by Aristotle, or even by Galileo. There is a continuity, of course, between its modern incarnation and its historical predecessors, as well as between it and other fields (mathematics, logic, philosophy, history, and so forth).
But when scientistic thinkers pretend that any human activity that has to do with reasoning about facts is “science” they are attempting a bold move of naked cultural colonization, defining everything else either out of existence or into irrelevance. When I get up in the morning and go to work at City College in New York I take a bus and a subway. I do so on the basis of my empirical knowledge of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority system, which results — you could say — from years of “observations” and “experiments,” aimed at testing “hypotheses” about the system and its functionality. If you want to call that science, fine, but you end up sounding pretty ridiculous. And you are doing no favor to real science either.

Massimo Pigliucci is the K.D. Irani Professor of Philosophy at the City College of New York. His interests are in the philosophy of biology, the structure of evolutionary theory, and the nature of pseudoscience. His latest book, co-edited with Maarten Boudry, is Science Unlimited? The Challenges of Scientism (Chicago Press). He blogs at platofootnote.org.



I reasonably agree that science is a "family resemblance" concept.
Perhaps we can also reasonable agree that science is the collection of scientific claims.
And that a scientist is someone who makes a scientific claim.
Put like that, there is a "family resemblance" with scientism.
Scientism is the collection of scientistic claims.
And a scientistic is someone who makes a scientistic claim.
The problem with these propositions is the lack of evolvement.
A thief is someone who commits theft. But I can't imagine a person who is constantly stealing. So, it's more appropriate to state that a person is a thief "when" he is stealing, and only when he is stealing.
In analogy one might say that the proposition "Author Sam Harris is a scientistic, "when" he argues that science can by itself provide answers to moral questions and that philosophy is not needed", is a scientific claim. However, the question arises if this proposition offers enough evolvement. Or, as a matter of fact, the question arises if there isn't too much evolvement involved. Too much evolvement might change the scientific claim into a relativistic claim. When is there enough evolvement in a proposition to call it a scientific claim and not a scientistic claim? And when is there too much evolvement in a proposition to call it a scientific claim and not a relativistic claim? 
I don't agree with Sam Harris, but I have a great admiration for his guts. His guts to give his central argument.
"Here it is: Morality and values depend on the existence of conscious minds—and specifically on the fact that such minds can experience various forms of well-being and suffering in this universe. Conscious minds and their states are natural phenomena, fully constrained by the laws of the universe (whatever these turn out to be in the end). Therefore, questions of morality and values must have right and wrong answers that fall within the purview of science (in principle, if not in practice). Consequently, some people and cultures will be right (to a greater or lesser degree), and some will be wrong, with respect to what they deem important in life."
I do wonder whether you call this central argument "scientism".
And I eat his hat if your co-editor calls this central argument "scientism".



Twice in a few days time an article about a text of Massimo Pigliucci.
On the one hand, this is a pure coïncidence.
On the other hand, it is not.
You can quote a thousand of philosophers which i don't give a damn about.
I only treasure a handful of them....



65. Here we come up against the great question that lies behind
all these considerations.—For someone might object against me:
"You take the easy way out! You talk about all sorts of language-
games, but have nowhere said what the essence of a language-game,
and hence of language, is: what is common to all these activities,
and what makes them into language or parts of language. So you
let yourself off the very part of the investigation that once gave you
yourself most headache, the part about the general form of propositions and of language."
And this is true.—Instead of producing something common to
all that we call language, I am saying that these phenomena have no
one thing in common which makes us use the same word for all,—
but that they are related to one another in many different ways. And it
is because of this relationship, or these relationships, that we call them
all "language". I will try to explain this.
66. Consider for example the proceedings that we call "games".
I mean board-games, card-games, ball-games, Olympic games, and
so on. What is common to them all?—Don't say: "There
must be something common, or they would not be called 'games' "—but
look and see whether there is anything common to all.—For if you look
at them you will not see something that is common to allbut
similarities, relationships, and a whole series of them at that. To
repeat: don't think, but look!—Look for example at board-games,
with their multifarious relationships. Now pass to card-games; here
you find many correspondences with the first group, but many common
features drop out, and others appear. When we pass next to ball-
games, much that is common is retained, but much is lost.—Are they
all 'amusing'? Compare chess with noughts and crosses. Or is there
always winning and losing, or competition between players? Think
of patience. In ball games there is winning and losing; but when a
child throws his ball at the wall and catches it again, this feature has
disappeared. Look at the parts played by skill and luck; and at the
difference between skill in chess and skill in tennis. Think now of
games like ring-a-ring-a-roses; here is the element of amusement,
but how many other characteristic features have disappeared! And
we can go through the many, many other groups of games in the same
way; can see how similarities crop up and disappear.
And the result of this examination is: we see a complicated network
of similarities overlapping and criss-crossing: sometimes overall
similarities, sometimes similarities of detail.
67. I can think of no better expression to characterize these
similarities than "family resemblances"; for the various resemblances
between members of a family: build, features, colour of eyes, gait,
temperament, etc. etc. overlap and criss-cross in the same way.—
And I shall say: 'games' form a family.
And for instance the kinds of number form a family in the same way.
Why do we call something a "number"? Well, perhaps because it
has a—direct—relationship with several things that have hitherto
been called number; and this can be said to give it an indirect relation-
ship to other things we call the same name. And we extend our con-
cept of number as in spinning a thread we twist fibre on fibre. And
the strength of the thread does not reside in the fact that some one
fibre runs through its whole length, but in the overlapping of many
fibres.
But if someone wished to say: "There is something common to all
these constructions—namely the disjunction of all their common
properties"—I should reply: Now you are only playing with words.
One might as well say: "Something runs through the whole thread—
namely the continuous overlapping of those fibres".

und so weiter und so fort....
Perhaps we should bear the following question in mind when reading Wittgenstein:
Is he playing a language game or is he explaining a language game?