Sunday, November 30, 2008
who?
Thursday, November 27, 2008
the falcon cannot hear the falconer
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
(Yeats, "The Second Coming")
I know he wrote this poem a long time ago, but it is so prescient, and I feel like the older I get, and the older the world gets,the more true it becomes.
I'm not sure whether this is totally true, but at my college back home my creative writing professor told us that although Yeats was not Christian, he thought time was a spiral that narrowed into the birth of Christ and has been slackening and growing since then. It really seems like every year we all become more disordered, morality, everything.
I think I have a distorted perception of this because I am only nineteen. To me, it seems things in the world have grown drastically worse, but really that is probably because I was mostly oblivious to such things until at least high school, and since then as I have started reading more and watching the news more and talking more about the world and politics and everything, of course everything has seemed to be following apart, really, since I just been gaining aware of the existent awareness that might have always existed.
That aside, though, I really do think the world is falling apart. This is partially a religious belief (a la "Revelation") but it is also just a simple revelation. So thinking about that, thinking about things loosening and expanding, brings up some stuff to me.
I suppose people haven't changed that much. I don't really think that people have really grown more terrible, or developed a greater capacity to be terrible; I think technology and networking have created a greater capacity for terror. Take for instance the events that prompted me to ramble on about this: the terror in Mumbai, India.
I probably wouldn't have cared anymore about Mumbai than other parts of the world that are falling apart, but there are a lot of kids from India at my school, including my best friends, and one of my friends' fathers just left Mumbai yesterday morning. I'm fairly certain he wasn't staying in one of the targeted luxury hotels, but it still seems like a crazy scary place to be right now. So I have a slightly more personal connection. My friend told me, "India is burning and it hurts to watch. ...We just keep praying I guess." She has other family in Mumbai, but I guess they are okay too.
So what made terrorism in India, or any place around the middle east in particular, possible? Beyond human nature, part of it is just the sectarian politics, the way those areas have evolved to be so fractured politically and religiously. It is made possible by an influx of diverse, averse beliefs, doctrines of intolerance. It is also made possible by availability of technology for weapons and networking. The prime minister of India or the British something or others said that they thought the group responsible was working with groups from outside of India. Technology makes this possible. Technology makes it possible, as well, to clean up the damage. It is quite a powerful tool for good and evil.
I was talking to a friend a while back when I was feeling more pessimistic about humanity about the movement of civilization out from its origins. I told her maybe it would have been better if we'd never left the Messopotamia or wherever it was that we all started off. There were wars back then, sure, but the damages seem globally smaller and the differences between people's beliefs seems less pronounced. I don't know. There had to have been a moment, so many years ago, when everyone in the middle east was the same religion. And what is it about those particular religions in that location that made so much friction? In other parts of the world we don't have too much trouble living with people of different religions. I don't get it.
We get mad at people that take this stuff so lightly, that act ignorant like little kids, but maybe the world would be a better place if we held on to the innocent lack of prejudice that we have in childhood and didn't develop all of these complicated biases and hatreds. I think that in The Lord of the Flies by the end of the book the kids are not kids anymore; they have somewhat grown up. But the way they are at the beginning, before the development of division and the capacity for true evil, that is the way that we should be.
That said, I'm not too optimistic. We are not just watching India burn; we're watching the whole world burn. And it's not just technology-aided terrorists; as the Joker says in The Dark Knight, all it takes to turn a city upside down and against itself is one person and a few cans of gasoline. In some ways I think organized terror is a lot less frightening and more sensible than the isolated, senseless crimes I read about on the news such as that one in Canada or something earlier this year when this guy that had never really done anything wrong before randomly took leave of his job and decapitated the guy sitting next to him on the bus, who he didn't even know, for not apparent reason. I guess the idea that people can act in horrible ways for conceivable reasons is less frightening than people acting in horrible ways for inconceivable or nonexistent reasons. The first gives me more faith in humanity and in the revision of such actions. If you believe in something, at least you have some kind of conscience, and it seems like people like that guy on the bus don't have that. Now that scares me.
To end on the bright side, though, the worst in some people does bring out the best in others. Through the worst tragedies we've experienced, we've also experienced the most compassionate efforts of ameleoration. Although I think the 9/11 aftermath was negative in that it involved a lot of hatred towards a terrorist group, which really made us terrorists as well, I think in a way it was really amazing that the whole nation was united together in cleaning up the mess made by the attacks. Irrespective of feelings towards Afghanistan or Iraq or whoever the government wanted to pin the blame on, we truly had a united feeling of compassion for those people in New York as is evidenced by the iconic firefighter as a hero.
I think, really, that that is the only thing holding us together. No matter how terrible we get, those who are not terrible become better, and it provides enough balance that we don't spin completely out of control. However, who knows what's coming.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
a few things that are bothering me right now
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Obama and drugs (unrelated :-) )
Friday, November 14, 2008
why there is a ghost in the machine
Thursday, November 6, 2008
down with identity theory!
ARGUMENT 1
So this only works for identity theorists that assume the existence of implicit beliefs.
Ok, so I could organize this as an actual premise-premise conclusion argument, but it's not really organized enough in my mind yet so I will give you the confusing, scrambled version.
So if you believe in identity theory and implicit beliefs, you accept that both are physically represented, and thus you have to believe that a representational physical change occurs in your brain when you formulate an explicit belief from an implicit belief. I.E. someone asked me whether taking an elephant apart could ever assemble a bicycle (a question I had never heard before), there had to be a physical event in my mind that changed the belief from implicit to explicit. Now if you consider beliefs (as I think is generally the trend these days) as mental tokens coded by neuronal connections (that are unique, so a specific neuron connection leads to a specific belief), then the formation of a new belief would involve the reorganization of neurons to connect previously unrelated parts of your semantic net. The creation of an explicit belief from an implicit belief would involve this reorganization.
However, before this belief concerning elephants and bicycles was formed in my mind, those neurons were not connected. They had the capacity to be connected, but they lacked the actual unique connection of the conscious belief. If identity theorists are going to acknowledge the difference between conscious/unconscious beliefs and thoughts, they have to admit that it is a physical difference. And yet, here is an example of a physical belief that, if they believe in implicit beliefs, has to exist, yet lacks the characteristic physical representation.
The conclusion I get from this is that if you believe in differentiation of conscious/unconscious thoughts/beliefs, you can't believe it's a physical difference, and thus physicalism (and identity theory) fall. I know there are a lot of holes in this argument, but to me it still proves at least that it is somewhat contradictory for physicalists to acknowledge the existence of unconscious or implicit beliefs. So even if physicalists can get by by just discarding the belief in implicit beliefs, that at least denies a semi-accepted philosophical entity.
I sent this argument to my TA for my philosophy class, and she gave me the response I was expecting, namely that identity thoerists could counter that an implicit belief is a potentiality rather than a substantially existing entity. This still seems a weird statement to me coming from a physicalist philosophy. Also, the easy way out is to just reject the existence of implicit beliefs altogether, but that, to me, doesn't seem quite right either. I know there are ways to neurologically prove or disprove this argument of mine, and I'm not sure if the necessary experiments have been carried out. For the time being, it's an interesting, if not shaky and semi easily defeated, argument.
ARGUMENT 2 (which I find stronger epistemologically but less convincing personally)
This is vaguely going off of some arguments by Hillary Putnam...
Identity theory says that the stimulation of C-fibers is the same as the experience of pain. Thus mental and physical properties are identical. I think the idea is that even for people feeling phantom pains in an amputated limb, the neurological pain response is still actually occurring, and that even for superstoics that can act as if they are not feeling pain, their c-fibers are still being stimulated.
This line of reasoning is fairly sound it turns out in the world today, and it is hard to find arguments against it. However, I think I have come up with something. There have been experiments performed (on cats, sadly) where the spinal cord was disconnected from the brain and the cat's paw was touched to a hot surface. It was found that the paw still retracted reflexively, even though there was no communication to the brian. The reason for this is that the physioligical reflex mechanism is localized and can occur without CNS involvement.
We consider the reflexive withdrawing of a body part from a hot surface a behavioristic pain response. Thus we can conclude that the C fibers (or whatever it is these days that produces pain; we unfortunately skipped the somatosensory chapter in neuroscience this year) are still firing.
The mental experience of pain, however, involves mental processing of pain events within the mind. This is especially convincing if you consider pain as a mental state as consciously observed. The conscience resides in the CNS, not in peripheral pain reflexes. So in a whole cat, C fiber stimulation of the paw causes action potentials to run along neurons until they reach the brain where a pain even is evoked. There is a very small time delay between fiber stimulation and pain feeling, but it isn't enough to deny that c-fiber stimulation is pain, and thus pain is a physical property.
However, what about the bisected cat? The paw's c fibers are stimulated; the limb is withdrawn; but no information ever reaches the brain. We would say that the cat exhibits c-fiber stimulation behavior, but not that the cat experiences pain the way we usually think of pain. Therefore there is some inherent subtle difference between pain and c-fiber stimulation, and either pain is a mental response while c-fiber stimulation is a physical response, or pain is the physical composit of two phyiscal responses (c-fiber stimulation and CNS awareness), in which case it is still not identical to a single physical event (although arguably that could go down, molecule by molecule, forever, and I may not be justified in saying that it isn't a single even in the physicalist schema).
So both arguments are far from perfect, but I think they have potential at least.