Fragmentary Notes §42—§45

§42

We frequently speak of “loving” and “cherishing” photographs. But what do we mean by this? What are we really expressing our “love” for? What is the genuine object of our “cherishment”? As soon as we begin to reflect upon the nature of photographs, we uncover webs of subtle and unconscious knots—confusions resulting not only from the haziness of common expressions and causal parlance, but also from the enigmatic relationship between what a thing “is” and what it is “of”—a relation of identity-in-difference.

§43

A photograph both is, and is not, itself. Indeed, a photograph is a photograph only insofar as it vanishes into what is “other” than itself—a hilly landscape, a blooming flower, a colorful bowl of fruit, etc. The visual medium “discloses” a message; and in disclosing the message, it must, in some respect, be in contact with it through a point of shared identity. The identity of every photograph is dependent upon its own self-abasement and self-denial as a stand-alone, self-dependent, and self-contained being. Mere “likeness” or “similarity” fails to capture the essence of the relationship between a photograph and its subject matter. And understanding this relationship is essential for grasping what we really mean when we speak of “loving” and “cherishing” photographs.

§44 

A photograph’s meaning, subject-matter, and value is determined by the person who comes into contact with it (physically or digitally). A photograph–by itself–is rarely the object of sentimental attachment. We treasure a photograph because of an object, event, or scene that lies outside or beyond the photograph—the photograph being a digital or chemical “representation” of said object, event, or scene. We “cherish” a photograph only insofar as we “love” what is “represented” by means of it or what is “disclosed” through it. We “treasure” and protect a photograph because it puts us into contact with an object of love and concern–and in most cases, this object has long since vanished.

§45

Unlike a photographic print, a digital photograph is, almost always, something “transparent”—like a glass window. If I am inside my house, I may see an object or event that is occurring outside “by means of” a glass window, or “through” a glass window. The glass window facilitates my view of the object or event without itself becoming the object of my attention or concern. 

Common-Sense and the Perceptible World

Whenever we perceive a part of the perceptible world, we perceive it as “having” or “consisting of” qualities. Furthermore, the qualities we perceive a part of the perceptible world as “having” or “consisting of” are the “what” (i.e., the “content” or characteristica) that we appeal to whenever we say that “this” part of the perceptible world is different from “that” part of the perceptible world. Indeed, without this qualitative “whatness,” every part of the perceptible world we perceive would be indistinguishable from any other. Puzzles regarding the peculiar relationship between a perceived part of the perceptible world and the qualities we perceive that part of the perceptible world as “having” or “consisting of” often leads Common-Sense to maintain that all the qualities we perceive any part of the perceptible world as “having” or “consisting of” are dependent upon and relative to the structure of our sense organs—a view which, when taken to its logical conclusions, leads to contradictions. 

Now, our sense organs—on which the qualities we perceive a part of the perceptible world as “having” or “consisting of” are said to depend—are themselves parts of the perceptible world, and, as such, the qualities we perceive our sense organs (e.g., Our eyes) as “having” or “consisting of” are likewise dependent upon and relative to our sense organs (e.g., Our hands). However, these “second-order” sense organs (e.g., Our hands)—on which the qualities we perceive the “first-order” sense organs (e.g., Our eyes) as “having” or “consisting of” depend—are, in turn, themselves parts of the perceptible world, and so the qualities we perceive the “second-order” sense organs (e.g., Our hands) as “having” or “consisting of” depend upon a “third-order” of sense organs (e.g., Our nose and tongue), or—Heaven forbid—upon the “first-order” sense organs again (e.g., Our eyes). There is no end to the mutual dependence. However, if, as Common-Sense holds, the qualities we perceive a part of the perceptible world as “having” or “consisting of” are themselves actual features of that part of the perceptible world we perceive them as inhering in, then we are either sent off into a vicious regress or entrapped within a vicious circle. In the former case, we are led into an inconsistency: all parts of the perceptible world (including our sense organs) dissolve into “states” of “states” of “states” of an unknown X—a “something-we-know-not-what” never to be found. In the latter case, we are led to an absurd contradiction: our sense organs would have given rise to the whole perceptible world of which our sense organs are proper parts—“into the man’s head the whole world goes, including the head itself.”

The above argument is a refinement of a similar argument from A.E. Taylor’s 1903 work, Elements of Metaphysics, page 198-199.

Answering a Reply to “Why Materialism Cannot Genuinely Explain Experience”

I recently received a reply to my article, “Why Materialism Cannot Genuinely Explain Experience,” and I wanted to provided a detailed answer to the commenter’s questions. He writes: 

“If X is (E—X) then isn’t ((E—X)—X) the same as (X—X)? And what does the notation mean anyways?”

Think of each pair of parentheses as representing a particular concept, and think of whatever is between each pair of parentheses as representing the content of said concept. The “—” symbol is used to make the distinction between certain contents internal to a concept. With regard to your other question, I think the following passage from McTaggart’s Studies in Hegelian Cosmology helps clarify what I am getting at: 

“If…we tried to explain the idea of a parent merely in terms of the idea of a child, we should have fallen into a vicious circle, since we should find that the idea of a child could not be explained except in relation to the idea of a parent.” (McTaggart, Studies in Hegelian Cosmology, §69)

As McTaggart points out, the concept of “Child” cannot be understood or grasped apart from the concept of “Parent;” and so it follows that the concept of “Parent” features in the concept of “Child” as one of its conceptual contents. In other words, the concept of “Child” is conceptually sense-dependent upon the concept of “Parent.” We can represent this with the following notion. Let P represent the concept of “Parent,” and let (P—X) represent the concept of “Child.” (In this particular instance, X serves as a placeholder for conceptual content that is not itself conceptually-sense dependent upon the concept of “Parenthood.” In my original essay, X is not only a placeholder, but also the very concept that the Materialist attempts to explain Experience in terms of). If we were to explain the concept of “Parent” in terms of the concept of “Child,” then we would have to explain P in terms of (P—X). However, this cannot be done unless we first explain (P—X) in terms of ((P—X)—X); but this cannot be done unless we first explain ((P—X)—X) in terms of (((P—X)—X)—X); but this cannot be done unless we first explain (((P—X)—X)—X) in terms of ((((P—X)—X)—X)—X). And so on, and so on, ad infinitum. And this circle is clearly vicious.

Now, just as the concept of “Child” cannot be understood or grasped apart from the concept of “Parent,” so too is it the case that the concept of “Parent” cannot be understood apart from the concept of “Child.” Thus, the concept of “Child” features in the concept of “Parent” as one of its conceptual contents. And so, it follows that the concept of “Parent” is conceptually sense-dependent on the concept of “Child.” We can represent this with the following notion. Let C represent the concept of “Child,” and let (C—X) represent the concept of “Parent.” If we were to explain the concept of “Child” in terms of the concept of “Parent,” then we would have to explain C in terms of (C—X). However, this cannot be done unless we first explain (C—X) in terms of ((C—X)—X); but this cannot be done unless we first explain ((C—X)—X) in terms of (((C—X)—X)—X); but this cannot be done unless we first explain (((C—X)—X)—X) in terms of ((((C—X)—X)—X)—X). And so on, and so on, ad infinitum. And this circle is clearly vicious. 

While it is the case that the concept of “Parent” and the concept of “Child” are reciprocally sense-dependent, it is not the case that the concept of “Experience” and the concept of “Matter” (i.e., the Materialist’s X) are reciprocally sense-dependent. As I say in my article:

“Further, X, as a concept, had its conceptual content and determinate meaning exhausted by facts “internal to” Experience. But this just means that X is conceptually sense-dependent upon facts “internal to” Experience; in other words, one cannot grasp or understand X without grasping or having a prior understanding of certain facts “internal to” Experience or Experience itself. On the other hand, it is clear that one can grasp or understand Experience, and facts “internal to” Experience, without ever grasping or understanding the Materialist’s X.”

In short, since the Materialist’s X is conceptually sense-dependent upon the concept of “Experience,” but the concept of “Experience” is not conceptually sense-dependent upon the Materialist’s X, it follows that Experience cannot be explained in terms of the Materialist’s X without the explanation becoming viciously circular; indeed, “the Materialist is forced by his own hand to presuppose at the very beginning of his explanation, the very presence of the phenomenon which he professes to have reached as the final result.” And so, with these clarifications out of the way, I think it is safe to say that it is impossible—in principle—for Materialism to genuinely explain Experience.

Reading Notes: September 28th, 2022

“Since human beings are rational, and not merely reactive, agents, it is possible to think of the majority of their activities as purposive or directed towards some end. Aspects of life, such as the religious, the emotional, the practical, or the intellectual, may all be regarded as aiming at certain objects or states, the attainment of which constitutes their satisfaction or good, and the non-attainment of which frustrates or dissatisfies them. For instance, if the goal of religion is communion with the divine nature, then, until it finds this, the religious consciousness is frustrated and continues to strive, but, in achieving such communion, it reaches its satisfaction and is able to rest contented, be this rest either permanent or temporary. Bradley claims that truth is what satisfies the intellect. In truth, the intellect finds a rest and contentment that is its own good or end. Meaninglessness, contradiction, and falsehood, on the other hand, all produce in the intellect a sense of uneasiness or dissatisfaction, in which state it cannot remain. They leave us with a “certain felt need” that must be met, and so we search for a state in which the intellect can rest contented. Thus, in this picture of our thinking lives which Bradley paints, intellectual satisfaction plays a dual role: it is the motivating force for the dynamic movement of thought that we term “enquiry”, as well as a practical criterion of the successful completion of that enquiry—in other words, of truth.” (Mander, An Introduction to Bradley’s Metaphysics, 4) 

“The radical fallacy of the corpuscular as well as of the dynamical theory consists in the delusion that the conceptual elements of matter can be grasped as separate and real entities. The corpuscular theorists take the element of inertia and treat it as real by itself, while Boscovich, Faraday, and all those who define atoms or molecules as “centers of force,” seek to realize the corresponding element, force, as an entity by itself. In both cases products of abstraction are mistaken for kinds of reality.” (Stallo, The Concepts and Theories of Modern Physics, 162) 

“The reality of all things which are, or can be, objects of cognition, is founded upon, or, rather, consists in, their mutual relations. A thing in and by itself can be neither apprehended nor conceived; its existence is no more a presentation of sense than a deliverance of thought. Things are known to us solely through their properties; and the properties of things are nothing else than their interactions and mutual relations….The real existence of things is coextensive with their qualitative and quantitative determinations. And both are in their nature relations, quality resulting from mutual action, and quantity being simply a ration between terms neither of which is absolute. Every objectively real thing is thus a term in numberless series of mutual implications, and forms of reality beyond these implications are as unknown to experience as to thought. There is no absolute material quality, no absolute material substance, no absolute physical unit, no absolutely simple physical entity, no absolute physical constant, no absolute standard, either of quantity or quality, no absolute motion, no absolute rest, no absolute time, no absolute space. There is no form of material existence which is either its own support or its own measure, and which abides, either quantitatively or qualitatively, otherwise than in perpetual change, in an unceasing flow of mutations. An object is large only as compared with another which, as a term of this comparison, is small, but which, in comparison with a third object, may be indefinitely large; and the comparison which determines the magnitude of objects is between its terms alone, and not between any or all of its terms and an absolute standard. An object is hard as compared with another which is soft, but which, in turn, may be contrasted with a third still softer; and, again, there is no standard object which is either absolutely hard or absolutely soft.” (Stallo, The Concepts and Theories of Modern Physics, 184-185) 

“The same considerations which evince the relativity of motion also attest the relativity of its conceptual elements, space and time. As to space, this is at once apparent. And of time, “the great independent variable” whose supposed constant flow is said to be the ultimate measure of all things, it is sufficient to observe that it is itself measured by the recurrence of certain relative positions of objects or points in space, and that the periods of this recurrence are variable, depending upon variable physical conditions. This is as true of the data of our modern time-keepers, the clock and chronometer, as of those of the clepsydra and hour-glass of the ancients, all of which are subject to variations of friction, temperature, changes in the intensity of gravitation, according to the latitude of the places of observation, and so on. And it is equally true of the records of the great celestial time-keepers, the sun and the stars. After we have reduced our apparent solar day to the mean solar day, and this, again, to the side-real day, we find that the interval between any two transits of the equinoctial points is not constant, but becomes irregular in consequence of nutation, of the precession of the equinoxes, and of numerous other secular perturbations and variations due to the mutual attraction of the heavenly bodies. The constancy of the efflux of time, like that of the spatial positions which serve as the basis for our determination of the rates and amounts of physical motion, is purely conceptual.” (Stallo, The Concepts and Theories of Modern Physics, 204-205) 

“As there is no absolute standard of quality, so there is no absolute measure of duration, nor is there an absolute system of coordinates in space to which the positions of bodies and their changes can be referred. A physical ens per se and a physical constant are alike impossible, for all physical existence resolves itself into action and reaction, and action imports change.” (Stallo, The Concepts and Theories of Modern Physics, 206) 

“It is not true that we can mentally evacuate space of all its contents, and have in the mind, or before the mind, the form or image of pure space. On the contrary, the idea of space is invariably associated in consciousness with some definite quality of sense. When we attempt to bring space before the mind (or, as it is usually called, to “realize” it) in its visual aspect, it always appears in synthesis with a mental reproduction of color, however faint. Similarly, when we make the effort of mentally “realizing” or representing it in its tactual aspect, it proves equally indissociable from a reproduction of some form of pressure or feeling. In this respect the arguments of Hume and Berkeley (which are of necessity simple appeals to consciousness) have never been successfully met. The dissociation between the “idea” of spatial extension and the feeling or feelings constituting sensation which we are able—and, for the purposes of discursive reasoning, constrained—to effect, is not an intuitional, but a conceptual dissociation.” (Stallo, The Concepts and Theories of Modern Physics, 233-234)”