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There's always something in the corner
Aug. 5th, 2007 11:59 pm
Currently at UW: 20.3. High today: 26.3. Dewpoint went up eight degrees between 3 p.m. and midnight.
I was up until 6 this morning waiting for the frogs to fall. I turned on the television at 4:20, and Magnolia was on, and I thought it was getting near the frogs, but the commercial breaks kept rolling on by and the frogs didn't come for another hour and a half. I don't know what to think of Magnolia in general, but when the kid says "this happens; this is something that happens", that's one of my favourite moments in any movie.
I'd completely forgotten what happens after the frogs--I've only ever seen the whole thing once--so the parting look caught me by surprise. It looks spontaneous, or at least unscripted. I guess it can't be. As a wrenching end, it's up there with the last word of Eyes Wide Shut, though a wrench in the opposite direction.
Last night was the second night in a row I've stayed up way too late watching a movie with a Scientologist and William H. Macy.
On the commercial breaks, I'd catch bits of an infomercial, running on a loop, for a DVD set of The Midnight Special, a '70s live music show. The passion in these performances, the commitment of the performer to the performance--everyone laughs at the '70s because the '70s was the last gasp of a culture without cool; maybe the last gasp of culture, cultivation of style, at all; an abortive attempt at creating culture after the death of culture, a million abortive attempts that failed to cohere and become a culture. The '80s came along and everybody grew up and knew that everything was bullshit.
And now, what may or may not be my final bout of Gettiering:
It's not unambiguously the case that everything that follows from Smith's belief that "the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket" also follows from "Jones will get the job". It follows necessarily from "the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket" that the man who gets the job will be able, in celebration, to give a coin to each of the ten interns in the office; that only contingently follows from "Jones will get the job" that the man who gets the job. In fact, in the abstract, from the standpoint of logical argument, it doesn't follow at all from "Jones will get the job" that the man who gets the job will be able to give a coin to each of the ten interns.
But: it doesn't follow only from "the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket", either; nothing follows from a single premise. (Which is why I don't like the idea that in "(1) x; therefore, (2) x or y" (2) follows from (1).) Another premise is required: "if the man who gets the job has ten coins, then he will be able to give a coin to each intern". In the abstract, to get from "Jones will get the job" to "the man who gets the job will be able to give each intern a coin", you need not only "if the man who gets the job has ten coins, then he will be able to give a coin to each intern", but also "Jones has ten coins". But in the actual case, Smith doesn't need to go through the latter step. For Smith, in that moment, Jones is a man with ten coins. In the particular context, the distinction between necessity and contingency is irrelevant; it's only relevant relative to a wider context in which contingencies may or may not be fulfilled.
Moreover: for Smith, in the moment, the distinction between the sense and the reference of "the man who will get the job" is irrelevant. That distinction is only relevant in the abstract. As far as Smith's concrete believing is concerned, there is no sense to "the man who will get the job" except "Jones". If Smith expresses his belief to others, then the statement becomes public, abstracted from Smith's believing, and its sense is put up for grabs (or determined by the standards of the linguistic community, or whatever).
Now, the real question, of course, is, why the hell am I going on and on about this?
Something that strikes me as interesting: as someone attempting to make a living in philosophy, it may reflect poorly on me that I devote my energy to a seemingly abstract, arcane, and inconsequential problem, in a way that it would not if I devoted my energy to that problem as a hobby, in my spare time. If it was a hobby, then the relevant comparisons would be with other leisure activities, and it wouldn't come out looking any worse than reading graphic novels or playing Worlds of Warcraft or *koff* tending to one's fantasy baseball team. But since it's--at least, for the sake of argument--something I do for a living, the relevant comparisons are with things that other people do for a living, which, whatever else they do, at least produce something that somebody wants enough to pay for it. It strikes me as particularly interesting because the Gettier problem is pretty far removed from anything I've devoted my "professional" attention to in the last decade, and because my interest in it could just as well be seen as leisure from my "real" work--except that in my line of work, the distinction between leisure and work hardly holds.
Foucault's retrieval of pre-modern modes of ethics wouldn't be so impressive to me if fantasy baseball wasn't the biggest ethical problem in my life right now.
This is an inviting view:
We think that the ethical problem is knowing what to do. The real ethical problem is getting ourselves in a position to be able to do what we ought to do. Knowing what to do is easy by comparison. Once you're in a position to be able to do what you ought to do, knowing what you ought to do isn't even a problem anymore. Knowing what you ought to do is blocked by your not being in a position to be able to do what you ought to do. If you're not in a position to be able to do what you ought to do, then you have to fight against it, rationalize, justify, bargain, excuse.
But the opposite view is equally tempting: if you know what to do, you don't have to get yourself in a position to be able to do it; if you know it, then you just do it. Not being in a position to be able to do anything is the result of not knowing what to do. I often think this about myself. It may be true. It may be a cop-out, an evasion of responsibility. But these two views belong to the two sides of the bad faith duck-rabbit.
Why am I harping on Gettier? I'm afraid my motivation is purely thumotic. There has always been something I think I see about it that nobody else seems to see. I'm motivated to prove that to prove myself. But something interesting, of actual consequence, seems to be falling out of the effort: it's showing how the mode of reasoning of abstract logic fails to capture the concrete logic of belief. As Plato suggested, out of thumos, reason and enlightenment.
I was up until 6 this morning waiting for the frogs to fall. I turned on the television at 4:20, and Magnolia was on, and I thought it was getting near the frogs, but the commercial breaks kept rolling on by and the frogs didn't come for another hour and a half. I don't know what to think of Magnolia in general, but when the kid says "this happens; this is something that happens", that's one of my favourite moments in any movie.
I'd completely forgotten what happens after the frogs--I've only ever seen the whole thing once--so the parting look caught me by surprise. It looks spontaneous, or at least unscripted. I guess it can't be. As a wrenching end, it's up there with the last word of Eyes Wide Shut, though a wrench in the opposite direction.
Last night was the second night in a row I've stayed up way too late watching a movie with a Scientologist and William H. Macy.
On the commercial breaks, I'd catch bits of an infomercial, running on a loop, for a DVD set of The Midnight Special, a '70s live music show. The passion in these performances, the commitment of the performer to the performance--everyone laughs at the '70s because the '70s was the last gasp of a culture without cool; maybe the last gasp of culture, cultivation of style, at all; an abortive attempt at creating culture after the death of culture, a million abortive attempts that failed to cohere and become a culture. The '80s came along and everybody grew up and knew that everything was bullshit.
And now, what may or may not be my final bout of Gettiering:
It's not unambiguously the case that everything that follows from Smith's belief that "the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket" also follows from "Jones will get the job". It follows necessarily from "the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket" that the man who gets the job will be able, in celebration, to give a coin to each of the ten interns in the office; that only contingently follows from "Jones will get the job" that the man who gets the job. In fact, in the abstract, from the standpoint of logical argument, it doesn't follow at all from "Jones will get the job" that the man who gets the job will be able to give a coin to each of the ten interns.
But: it doesn't follow only from "the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket", either; nothing follows from a single premise. (Which is why I don't like the idea that in "(1) x; therefore, (2) x or y" (2) follows from (1).) Another premise is required: "if the man who gets the job has ten coins, then he will be able to give a coin to each intern". In the abstract, to get from "Jones will get the job" to "the man who gets the job will be able to give each intern a coin", you need not only "if the man who gets the job has ten coins, then he will be able to give a coin to each intern", but also "Jones has ten coins". But in the actual case, Smith doesn't need to go through the latter step. For Smith, in that moment, Jones is a man with ten coins. In the particular context, the distinction between necessity and contingency is irrelevant; it's only relevant relative to a wider context in which contingencies may or may not be fulfilled.
Moreover: for Smith, in the moment, the distinction between the sense and the reference of "the man who will get the job" is irrelevant. That distinction is only relevant in the abstract. As far as Smith's concrete believing is concerned, there is no sense to "the man who will get the job" except "Jones". If Smith expresses his belief to others, then the statement becomes public, abstracted from Smith's believing, and its sense is put up for grabs (or determined by the standards of the linguistic community, or whatever).
Now, the real question, of course, is, why the hell am I going on and on about this?
Something that strikes me as interesting: as someone attempting to make a living in philosophy, it may reflect poorly on me that I devote my energy to a seemingly abstract, arcane, and inconsequential problem, in a way that it would not if I devoted my energy to that problem as a hobby, in my spare time. If it was a hobby, then the relevant comparisons would be with other leisure activities, and it wouldn't come out looking any worse than reading graphic novels or playing Worlds of Warcraft or *koff* tending to one's fantasy baseball team. But since it's--at least, for the sake of argument--something I do for a living, the relevant comparisons are with things that other people do for a living, which, whatever else they do, at least produce something that somebody wants enough to pay for it. It strikes me as particularly interesting because the Gettier problem is pretty far removed from anything I've devoted my "professional" attention to in the last decade, and because my interest in it could just as well be seen as leisure from my "real" work--except that in my line of work, the distinction between leisure and work hardly holds.
Foucault's retrieval of pre-modern modes of ethics wouldn't be so impressive to me if fantasy baseball wasn't the biggest ethical problem in my life right now.
This is an inviting view:
We think that the ethical problem is knowing what to do. The real ethical problem is getting ourselves in a position to be able to do what we ought to do. Knowing what to do is easy by comparison. Once you're in a position to be able to do what you ought to do, knowing what you ought to do isn't even a problem anymore. Knowing what you ought to do is blocked by your not being in a position to be able to do what you ought to do. If you're not in a position to be able to do what you ought to do, then you have to fight against it, rationalize, justify, bargain, excuse.
But the opposite view is equally tempting: if you know what to do, you don't have to get yourself in a position to be able to do it; if you know it, then you just do it. Not being in a position to be able to do anything is the result of not knowing what to do. I often think this about myself. It may be true. It may be a cop-out, an evasion of responsibility. But these two views belong to the two sides of the bad faith duck-rabbit.
Why am I harping on Gettier? I'm afraid my motivation is purely thumotic. There has always been something I think I see about it that nobody else seems to see. I'm motivated to prove that to prove myself. But something interesting, of actual consequence, seems to be falling out of the effort: it's showing how the mode of reasoning of abstract logic fails to capture the concrete logic of belief. As Plato suggested, out of thumos, reason and enlightenment.
