The Beginnings of Philosophy

Aristotle said that philosophy begins in wonder. Sometimes, I find that my own philosophizing begins in dread.

Quite honestly, I am afraid of the world. I am trying to make due with life the best that I can, and adapt myself to it; but I'll never have enough information to be able to be sure that I know everything that would really matter to me. But I know that at any given point, I don't have enough understanding, and so I must keep going. I start off with a lack, and will always have a lack.

If philosophy starts with wonder, as my learning used to do when I could still believe in certain demonstrations and such, then we begin in a plenitude and explore it. We are not driven to do so, but we learn about the world because of the sheer joy of doing so.

Now, I can't just go back to that stage of wonder, as much as I may need it psychologically in order to get through my work. When one runs about against religious and moral problems which call for changes in life, one can't pretend that it's all about the thrill of exploration any longer, and one even starts to wonder whether chasing that thrill for its own sake is a self-centered enterprise.

Maybe Diotima's speech in the Symposium is a way of bringing these strands together. Eros is the child of Craft and Poverty, and is also chasing after Aphrodite. Eros himself has nothing; desire comes from lack. But, he is also enraptured by the object of his desire. Similarly, the philosophical pursuit is always situated in lack, but always desirous of its object as well, rendering unto it equal parts dread and wonder.

Jesus and the Delphic Oracle

Returning to the discussion of the True vs. the Good: One way of looking at it could be be through the lens of two maxims, "Know Thyself" and "Love thy neighbor as thyself." Self-knowledge without love is sterile, love without self-knowledge is blind. We can all point to people who, through lack of wisdom, harm with their love; this is often the criticism of the golden rule as a moral mandate. Therefore, love requires knowledge, and I would venture to say that it requires us to know ourselves well so as to properly relate to others. At the same time, Socrates could not accomplish his task of finding self-knowledge without a partner, and often a relatively inconsequential one according to matters of wisdom and virtue. From this one can see how love and humility are essential for the quest of knowledge.

Why Not Pluralism?

I must admit, religious pluralism is tempting me an awful lot; I have no reason left for believing the Christian story, other than that I don't have an alternative yet (or rather, perhaps that elements of my upbringing still cling); and despite Pascal's advice to participate in church and soon you'll start believing, I find myself sickened by the intellectual (and concomitant moral) laziness I see every Sunday, unless I interpret it through a mythological lens. But I don't have any arguments for pluralism, merely reasons why it is not as contradictory as I hear people say. So, here's at least the anti-criticisms:

Sometimes I hear that claim that pluralism says that everyone is right by saying that everyone is wrong. But the non-pluralist is saying that the vast majority of people in the world are simply dead wrong, and that even members of her own religion are usually only right in a practical sense (almost everyone in the pew is a modalist, tritheist, and docetist, I bet). So the pluralist really seems to be no worse off then anyone else; every view says that only a few people are really right, and at least the pluralist works out how most everyone else has some part of the truth. What is denied is that truth is merely binary, that everyone who does not have the truest expression of reality is thereby completely wrong; people can approach truth, and pluralism allows more people to do so.

Another problem that I here is that "Religions obviously conflict, so they can't all be true." To be perfectly blunt, this is a poor, lazy excuse for a criticism, and reveals immediately a lack of willingness to engage with the subject. The pluralist denies that the straightforward, literal truth of the different religions is what matters; there aren't any terribly strong arguments for any given metaphysical or historical truth, except those agreed by everyone (i.e. everyone can agree about basic facts of Muhammad's life, whether or not they are Muslims), and so for most people, the actual effect of such propositions are either (a) in virtue of their reality, or (b) in virtue of how they shape worldviews. If the latter, this is perfectly compatible with a mythological approach. If the former, someone had better do some significant empirical study to show this; without some empirical evidence, we are still left with (b) for most people, and myth again is how most people operate irregardless of metaphysical and historical concerns.

Another criticism one could hold is that pluralism negates God's grace. First, though, this seems to come from a grace/works dichotomy that in its eschewal of works as any practical dimension reflects the Reformation more than the New Testament; recent scholarship has shown that the Jews against whom Paul was arguing did not have the notion of works-based salvation which has been imputed to them, and so Paul's own conception of faith and works needs to be revised. Second, what sort of cheap grace is it which demands that God has grace so that less people can be saved? But then, why can't God have grace on people outside of his chosen religion but yet less than everyone, for one reason or another?

Clifford, James, and Communities

So we all know the story: Clifford comes out and says that it is wrong everywhere and at all times to believe something without sufficient evidence. James says that that isn't so; you can either try to avoid being wrong, and possibly get very little right, or you can try to take a more maximalist approach and possibly get a lot wrong. Further, we have live options which are up for discussion, and other options which are not; we do not simply argue through all ratioanlly possible options to come to a decision. So far, so good; I can't really see any other way of dealing with individual matters of belief than the way James puts it (although, even James admits that he would have put things differently if he had been talking to a bunch of Salvation Army people as opposed to Princeton-ites). But what about communities?

Can we say that within a community, there should not be some people, the intellectuals of the community, who should take more of a careful approach? I think what the matter boils down to is whether fideism is morally appropriate.

Now, by fideism, I mean that the believer has not rational basis. However, expert testimony is a rational basis for belief, and so the average believer would seem to be justified in trusting the intellectuals of the community. But what if the intellectuals have failed to do their job, and due to intellectual laziness, stubborness, hubris, or whatnot, have not adequately searched out the options?

A parallel situation I think can be seen in the military. The more that a person submits her will to the superior, the more the superior makes the moral decisions for the subordinate. Since I'm pretty sure that most of us would deny that "Just following orders" is a moral excuse, it follows that a bad decision on the part of the superior funnels down to the subordinate, and so the subordinate relinquishing of her decisions leaves these up to the other; she is not justified no matter what for her relinquishment.

So, if the average believer decides to get on with her life doing her thing and so gives up her intellectual decision to the intellectuals in the community, why should I say that she is justified if they are not so? Therefore, it would seem that bad intellectuals destroy the justification of the community.

But, if this is the case, don't these intellectuals have a duty to the community to search out matters as strictly and carefully as possible? Don't they have a duty to truly be experts in their fields, and so engage in the necessary self-criticism and the equally necessary searching out of all the other possible and well thought-out views?

What is required of the intellectuals of the community, then, and how spread-out do they need to be? Is a (local) church unjustified if it lacks an intellectual? Does it depends on the church hierarchy? Is it at all justifiably to adopt a Reformed Epistemology if there is no reason to support such an epistemology, just to have an ad hoc justification for the average believer when all else fails?

What should communities do when their arguments are terribly unpersuasive to everyone else? For example, as much as Christians talk about how no one else seems to recognize the seriousness of sin, everyone else who believes in a God has no problem seeing how God could forgive anyone God wants (whether or not God would and does are separate questions). How does this reflect on the community? If what they hold is rational, shouldn't they be able to explain it persuasively to at least some other party, even if not to everyone?

The True or the Good?

Is it more important to seek what is good, or what is true? What is good can only be good is it really, truly is good, and so it seems that truth is preeminent. But don't we seek the truth because we feel that we ought to do so?

We can imagine situations in which the two can come apart, at least existentially (that is, within the way we live our finite lives on a daily basis) even if not in the end. I'm not simply talking about cases where we would have to kill innocents or sell our souls in order to come by some all-encompassing knowledge; it could be the pursuit of studies instead of helping at the soup-kitchen.

So, we have four cases, given that he two do seem interconnected somehow: (1) goodness is dependent on truth, (2) truth is dependent on goodness, (3) both or dependent on some third thing, and (4) the two are mutually dependent in some way.

If (1) is the case, then contemplation and study should consume most of our time; it is no use acting without knowing what is true first. This view has some plausibility in that virtues without wisdom can often be harmful. Courage, for example, even with the best intentions, can produce a monster if it is not guided by a knowledge of its proper use.

If (2) is the case, then we should primarily be acting in the world. It does seem that the person spending all of her time in study is missing the point, and is less of a human being than the one who is out there enacting justice (although this of course betrays my non-classical aesthetic sensibilities). If so, then it is plausible that the truth comes second to enacting good.

If (3) is the case, then we have a way of reconciling the two above options: neither the true nor the good completely trump each other, but rather are both connected to some third source. But, what is this third thing? "Being," whatever that may be? So, this option cannot help us without further elucidation. It's been done in various ways at various times, but that's another topic.

If (4) is the case, then we can avoid some mysterious common source and avoid subordinating one to the other. However, in what way is (4) true? Is there one abstract object one time referred to as the truth and at another time as goodness? But how does this make sense out of our existential conflicts? Another option is a division of labor: for some it is good to give preeminence to truth, and to others a preeminence to goodness. Society overall will be balanced, though individuals may not be (or, individuals themselves may overall be balanced through giving different priorities at different times).

Metaphysical Implications of Logic?

I've been thinking through some assumptions which seem to be entailed by classical logic. I'm sure these have been mentioned in a thousand places, in much better ways (I don't actually blog about what I've taken the time to study; I'm blogging to put off that stuff). However, I am interesting in what people have to say about the following.

Problem #1: Both the law of identity (A=A) and the law of non-contradiction (A /= ~A) require that the same token have two instances. This already assumes that something can be repeated as exactly the same thing in multiple instances (maybe it even implicitly brings in Parmenides?). If everything is simply more or less similar to other things, then this is not obviously true.

Problem #2: The law of non-contradiction assumes that we can truly make negative statements. A is not ~A, where both A and ~A refer to A. Therefore, whatever A is, it cannot be ~A. However, if we always have some positive idea in mind when we make an assertion, then we never do actually refer merely to ~A; we refer to some B, which we take to be ~A. But B is not simply ~A, and refers to something other than A. As such, further investigation into B could show that it is really not incompatible with A, and so our actual use of the law of non-contradiction failed.

For something completely different: I'm currently signing up for classes for next semester. I'm presently planning on taking Kant, Early German Idealism (Fichte, Schelling, Jacobi, Hölderlin, etc.), and Neoplatonism (with an emphasis on how the early NP commentators worked with Aristotle). Should be an interesting semester.

Some Interesting Propositions

I was talking with a fellow Marquette student the other day, and came to the conclusion that we should have a philosophy based on the following principle: that which is interesting, is true.

Now, it would seem from here that things should be true insofar as they are interesting. So what is most boring does not exist, while there are things which are more and more interesting and so more and more true (existent?). Following this, we come to the That Than Which None More Interesting Can Be Thought (TTWNMICBT).

Now, certainly it would be more interesting for such to exist in reality, and so therefore it must actually exist, or it is not the TTWNMICBT. But now, there is a catch. This would suppose that we are thinking of this thing, but surely something would be more interesting if we could not think of it. So the TTWNMICBT cannot be TTWNMICBT; it is only interesting through this That Which Is Too Interesting Too Be Thought (TWITITBT).

So we have the TWITITBT, of which we can't even properly speak, but which we need to explain everything else. Then we have the TTWNMICBT, which is only interesting indirectly. But if the TTWNMICBT wouldn't continually reach out to be more interesting, then it would not be the TTWNMICBT, as there is something more interesting than it. So, now we have the TTWNMICBT considered in itself, and the TTWNMICBT considered in its striving. But since the TTWNMICBT is the TTWNMICBT, any striving must also be toward was is not itself, and so the TTWNMICBT as striving gives us a multiplicity of interesting things.

Ok, someone's been reading too much NeoPlatonism. Back to work....

Election Results

I have a presentation for my Aristotle class in an hour, so I figured that I'd spend some time blogging on something completely unrelated in preparation. The election is over, and Obama will now be our president. And I'm happy for that.

When you get right down to it, no, I don't believe any of his promises. I don't believe any politician's promises; in fact, I consider most people period to be untrustworthy (at least due to competence, if not to outright deceit). So I don't see why that affects Obama more than anyone else. And I am quite fine with his elitism; some people are just better able to handle things than others. Democracy is a necessary evil, as far as I'm concerned. But there are two reasons in particular why I am glad that he was elected.

First, it is good to have an African-American president. When you get right down to it, the leader of a country is important for their symbolic value at least as much as for what they can do, and perhaps even more so; after all, it's still Congress who makes the laws. It's hard to say that we're a diverse country, although every single one of our presidents has not only been a rich white male, but also of either German or British/Celtic stock. That just screams inequality somewhere, and electing someone with a darker shade of skin is at least a preliminary step toward giving a different appearance. The different appearance in turn such encourage more minorities to get involved in the nation, hopefully leading to a more diverse representation in government. So, will all of this happen? Who knows? But if you don't give it a start somehow, then there is no way that it will happen.

Secondly, I must say that I enjoy seeing the pissed off conservatives. Hooray for tearing down the golden conservative calf! Maybe when people see that the country is still standing in 4 years, the Evangelical church (in general) will reconsider their America-worship.... nah. Maybe I'll just be stuck listening to people whining about how abortion is the worst evil of all time while they ignore the widows and orphans.

Ok, that was a cheap shot, which I'll probably regret making; but I'm getting really sick of the pious blogging and Facebook status messages.

A Few Theses

Given the day today, I figured that it was only appropriate to post some theses of my own. So, here are some of the points on which I've been struggling, put out for discussion rather than waiting for better exposition and argument. Some of these are new, some are recaps (and exaggerations) of old posts.

1. Fideism is morally wrong, as it privelages a group over others by arbitrary means, imposing illegitimate human authorities over non-members.
2. Out of four classes of proofs for Christianity, rational, historical, experiential, and moral, there are none which escape fideistic grounding (see earlier posts for criticisms of these proofs).
3. One should not do apologetics until one can sympathize with and argue for the other side (or any other sort of criticism, for that matter).
4. If theology contains and set truths which are important to know, then it is immoral to let theology be done in a democratic or congregationalist fashion.
5. There are no grounds for certainty which can stand up to reasonable criticism, and any claim to certainty can only be bought by ignoring legitimate views.
6. Morality is only meaningful insofar as it results in good for fellow creatures.
7. God is irrelevant in providing direct grounds for morality, as any real morality must appeal to what would be actually good for me anyhow. God may provide grounds for hoping that my good will be attained along with that of others, however.
8. The notion of providence is irrelevant for daily life once it must take care of the actual circumstances of the world.
9. The One, it in its hyperperfection, emanates Mind. In turn, Mind in reaching beyond itself yields Soul, who in its striving produces Nature.

Homomorphisms, Language, and God

Back to mathematical ruminations about the relation between language and reality...

In math, there is something called an isomorphism. The point behinds an isomorphism is this: you take two systems, and show that at some level the only difference is a change in symbols (at least, within the context of a given type of mathematical structure). So, for example, I can take the integers (all positive & negative whole numbers + 0), and I can work with them under everyday, ordinary addition. At the same time, I can take the set of doubled integers (..., -6, -4, -2, 0, 2, 4, ...), again under addition. Now, if I take 1 + 1 = 2 from the normal set of integers, I can map 1 onto 2 and 2 onto 4 to get 2 + 2 = 4 in the set of doubled integers. This is again a true statement. I can, in fact, take any statement about addition in the normal integers, double the numbers, and get a true statement about addition in the doubled integers. The structure of the systems, with regard to addition, is the same.

Another set of relations are called homomorphisms. Before, I could take my doubled integers, halve them, and get equivalent statements about normal integers; the isomorphism works both ways. Homomorphisms which are not also isomorphisms only work one way, and so they preserve important structural elements while losing much as well. Let us take again our normal integers with addition, and then let us take the numbers 0 and 1. Every odd integer we will map to 1, and every even integer we will map to 0. Further, in our new set, 1 + 1 = 0, with other relations staying the same. Essentially, 1 = "odd" and 0 = "even", so a statement like 1 + 0 = 1 could be said to mean "odd" + "even" = "odd". Again, for any true statement in our normal integers, we get a true statement in our even-and-odd system. 3 + 4 = 7 becomes 1 + 0 = 1, and both are fine. Let us call our new system Mod-2.

We can have multiple systems like this. Let us take the numbers 0, 1, and 2, where 1+2 = 2+1 = 0 and 2+2 = 1. This system is Mod-3. The normal integers will map like such: anything which is divisible by 3 becomes 0, anything 1 more than such a number becomes 1, and anything 2 more than such a number becomes 2. Again, true statements in the integers stay true statements in Mod-3.

Let us take Sally, who is a fluent speaker of Mod-2. Sam, on the other hand, speaks Mod-3. Now, Sally makes the casual statement that 1+1=0. Sam is flabbergasted; every kindergartner knows that 1+1=2! Sally can't understand such nonsense; not only is 1+1 clearly 0, 2 is simply gibberish.

Each of these statements is perfectly correct within its own system. Therefore, the two speakers are both right. These statements are truly incorrect inside the other system. There is also more than a chance resemblance between their terms; it is not as if "1" means something completely different within the two systems, although its relations within the systems are different. Therefore, the two speakers are genuinely contradicting each other. Not only are both speakers correct within their own systems, both systems do genuinely reflect the structure of the integers ("reality," as it were), albeit in a pallid fashion. Finally, there are genuinely wrong statements; 0 + 1 = 0 is false in any Mod system, as it cannot possibly be part of a system which mirrors the structure of the integers.

Also, every speaker can only master a finite set, but reality is an infinite one. Therefore, although speakers can master larger and larger sets, they can never hold out on the basis that a given set doesn't fully capture reality; the limited versions are all that they can access. Bigger sets do capture reality's structure better, though (they participate in it more fully?), so there is a point to continuing to search for ways of expressing the world. Also, while if each speaker could be a pure individual, cut adrift from others, she may be able to mistake her own Mod-language to be whole in itself. However, once she must interact with speakers of other Mod-languages, through their differences she realizes that her own Mod-language must relate to something beyond itself.

Finally, does this help to explain the God-world relation? The Mod sets are not the integers; they are different sets with different properties. On the other hand, they are nothing, except insofar as they are finite structures within the integers and borrow terminology from the integers; they have no being over and above that. The integers, also, must contain all of the structures presented in the Mod sets, and so is the "perfect," that is complete, set. With regard to language, the sets only analogously represent the structure of the integers, although they do genuinely do such. The integers themselves are ineffable, in a sense, as no Mod-statement really captures them; though we can still talk about them in another sense, as every Mod-statement refers to them.

Conferences

I went to two conferences last week. The first was at Notre Dame with the SIEPM (Société Internationale pour l'Étude de la Philosophie Médiévale) , on "Philosophy and Theology in the Studia of the Religious Orders and at the Papal Court." Basically, studia were the smaller, religious schools as opposed to the universities. It was very heavy on the history (especially 14th century, where I'm more interested in 13th century though), and so I was lot for a good deal of it. It did rekindle some enthusiasm for a couple days though, which was good; I've been (and currently am) running on pretty much zero motivation, with focus and energy to match.

The second conference was at Marquette, and it was part of the "Aquinas and the Arabs" project. I could follow that one a fair bit more. There was some interesting work done on Aquinas' thought, and particularly on how he borrowed from Arabic sources. Turns out that in his commentary on the Sentences, he pretty much adopts Avicenna's metaphysics, almost down to the terminology; pace Gilson, Aquinas' metaphysic was not a specifically Christian one, although it fit that use nicely. Aquinas' psychology was borrowed first from Avicenna, but he later switched to a more Averroistic one, at least with regard to internal senses.

Père Oliva from the Leonine Commission in Paris (a group working on the critical edition of Aquinas' works) was our guest speaker - a rather soft-spoken, likeable Italian man. He seemed to like what our project is doing, and it sounds like we're going to get a fair bit of money, to run things for a couple decades. So that's pretty cool.

Currently, I'm scrambling to get through secondary sources for my papers. I have one for Aristotle (most likely on the potential intellect, though the logos between sensibles and the senses seems interesting as well), for Plato (assuming my midterm paper did well, I'm analyzing some of Socrates' more pragmatic statements in the Meno), and Medieval Islamic Philosophy (on the epistemology of the rather interesting Persian mystical philosopher Suhrawardi). Unfortunately, I can't focus for the life of me on my studies. Hopefully this will pass before it sinks my grades....

Life at Marquette

I've been in my grad program at Marquette for about a month now, so I figured that a post on how my life is going would be in order. I have three classes: Plato, Aristotle, and Medieval Islamic Philosophy. The Plato and Aristotle profs tend to banter back and forth between classes. Medieval Islamic Philosophy is interesting, though there is a ton of dense reading for the course; we're basically reading through major works of several thinkers of the Classical Rationalist period in Islamic philosophy. We started with a paraphrase of Plotinus (the so-called "Theology of Aristotle") and another Neo-Platonist paraphrase which came in the Latin West as the Liber De Causis. From there, we've been through al-Kindi (who was in charge of an early translation circle and very keen on showing the unity of Greek thought and how it fits with Islam) and al-Farabi (called "The Second Teacher" after Aristotle, at least once Farabi's work was discovered).

I'm also in a couple of reading groups, for Latin and Arabic. The same prof (Dr. Richard Taylor) heads up both, as well as the Islamic Philosophy class. So, the Arabic reading group usually takes on texts which we are already reading in class. The Latin reading group is working on a text from Aquinas which ties into the Aquinas and the Arabs project, on which I'll be doing some work as a student participant. It looks like I came to the right place for cross-cultural medieval philosophy.

Getting away from school concerns, we recently (as in, a month ago) got ourselves a cat: a rather slender Russian Blue by the name of Starshine. She's taken a bit to get used to me, but now she's an attention hog. Last weekend we introduced her to Tiger, our rabbit. Much to Starshine's consternation, Tiger has taken up cat-chasing as a new hobby.

Intellectual War

How can we be truly cooperative in intellectual matters, without asserting ourselves to the detriment of another?

I find within myself a drive toward competitiveness, a need for a foil, which rather frustrates me. After all, to declaim someone as clearly wrong is to declare oneself as dead certain about something. But, I have yet to come across anyone whose certainty on an issue I can truly respect and emulate. On the contrary, the extent to which someone is certain (with the possible exception of certain moral issues), I generally see them as culpably and reprehensibly close-minded and ignorant of basic truths which are plainly obvious to me (and see, I have already inserted my despised foil!).

Part of this seems to come out of a desire to be above the rest of humanity. People everywhere, at all times, seem to fall into this one pit, and I must be the one who does not. How realistic is this, though? Is it even possible in theory to avoid making the same mistake which those better than I have made? But, how can I purposefully run and jump into a pit I see gaping before me?

Is the answer to simply accept that perspectives can only meet in battle? To acknowledge from the start that I will clash, I will wrong and be shown wrong no matter what I do, and that I must overlook my foibles in order to progress?

It seems that cooperation needs to assume the sort of firm foundation which I cannot accept. One must know enough to have stability, to have an unshakable faith in something (despite any evidence to the contrary), in order to meet the Other calmly and in peace. Is this because most cooperation is really an assimilation of the Other?

And skepticism is similarly resting on the firm foundation that what one doesn't know either doesn't matter, or is so certainly unknowable that it doesn't matter whether it matters.

One has to take these matters seriously, and not merely play at them. One must pour oneself out; I must pour myself out, into some scheme which I choose, even though it will fail. I must grow my thought as if it were a new hand, in order to chop it off.

I am finite, and in my finitude I am ignorant, noxiously so. But dash it all, stopping isn't really an option either.

Galois Theory and Languages

So, I've been thinking about mathematical metaphors for philosophy again, and this time Galois theory has come up. But first, the philosophical problem: when I speak in different languages, am I saying the same thing? Is there actually an English statement that corresponds to a French one? Are there propositions embedded in human sentences? If the mathematical analogy which I propose works, than there exists a complex yet satisfying answer to the problem.

Abstract algebra is about mathematical convenience. Mathematicians were tired of proving a theorem in numbers, then in geometry, then in permutations, and so on, when the theorem in question is practically the same thing in each case. So, they abstracted out the common features of the systems which were actually what ground the systems, and gave names to the sets of features. Two systems in particular are "groups" and "fields" (for those interested, the set of integers under addition is a group, and the set of rational numbers under addition and multiplication is a field). Galois theory states that there are relations between groups and fields such that you can match them up.

Now, groups and fields are not reducible to each other. One could perhaps say that groups are building blocks for fields, but there are interactions within fields which are not directly reducible to their group properties. So they are different, and one is not saying the same thing about groups as one is about fields. However, there is a direct connection between them as Galois theory points out, such that the structure of individual groups is the "same" (in a precise mathematical sense) as that of individual fields. So they are saying the same things as well. Further, the interplay of difference and similarity is what Galois Theory uses to establish its unique points: for example, that there is no general equation for solving fifth-degree polynomials or higher.

To bring this to play with languages: English and Japanese are just saying the same things; they have different webs of meaning, and this is important. But that doesn't mean that there are no structural isomorphisms at all. In addition, bringing the two together doesn't merely increase our understanding of our native tongue, but actually produces new thoughts.

Apologetics and the Dalai Lama

I've been reading a book on Tibetan Buddhism as of late, and in the process of doing so I came across a passage about the choosing of the Dalai Lama. Now, I haven't done a whole lot of research into the topic, so what I'm presenting is not a case for why the Dge lugs pa school of Tibetan Buddhism has things right while the Bible is wrong. Why I am doing is bringing up a scenario which would suggest that historical arguments for the veracity of Scripture don't do as much as supposed.

More or less, here is the story given of how the current DL was found. Typically, the DLs, when they die, leave some sort of clues for where their reincarnation will be found, whether directly ("I will be reborn in such-and-such a place"), or through visions, or whatnot. So, in this case, some guy has a vision of the place where the next DL will be born, after following some general indications as to the area. When some monks find a house which matches specific characteristics from the dream, they go inside and find a young boy. This rather precocious child is able to accurately the previous DL's belongings without any coaching. This child is then taken to be trained in the Dge lugs pa (Gelukpa; I hate Tibetan orthography) order, where he studies hard and takes his place. By now, this child who grew up in the cultural backwaters of Tibet, itself not exactly the model of a cosmopolis, has become an internationally recognized world leader who has won the Nobel peace prize, written many books and given many lectures, impressing many with his wisdom.

It would seem that if we look at some of the arguments given for believing that the resurrection of Jesus happened, we would have to, by analogy, apply some of the same reasoning to this case. Since the nearness in time and the preservation of the accounts to the event give evidence for the historcity of even the miraculous events in the gospels, the fact the the present DL was found within the last century (and so the account did not come about any earlier)should be evidence for it. Further, Dge lugs pa monks had pretty strong reasons for taking strict pains to make sure that this boy was the correct reincarnation; not everyone is an incarnation of the Bodhisattava Avalokitesvara, after all, and the order considers this to be rather important.

Next, we have the argument from the improbability of alternative explanations. Just as we say that Jesus must have risen from the dead since nothing else explains the empty tomb adequately, so too must we say that only something along the lines of reincarnation adequately explains this young boy being able to accurately pick out the previous DL's belongings from a set of stuff. The vision of where he lived is a little more iffy, but there were some specific elements which matched the house, and even if the probability of finding a house with those elements was not terribly low, the probability of finding such with this boy would be pretty special.

Finally, we have the argument from effect. Just as the renewed vigour of the apostles is cited as evidence that Jesus really did rise from the dead (how else would they have overcome their funk?), so too does the subsequent life of the DL give evidence that there was something special about him, as the odds of someone from his background taking the place that he has in world events is pretty slim. Further, the book I was reading points that that historically, every DL who has lived until maturity has become a competent leader; looking at other methods of leadership, what are the odds of this happening?

If there is any reason for assuming the DL story to have support, then arguments for the veracity of Christ's resurrection (and hence a vindication of the Christian message) are in trouble. If they work for Christ, they work for the DL; but these two stories aren't terribly compatible (If the Christian story is true, then the DL one is not; if the DL one is, then at least the way the Christians tell their own story is not, though Buddhists could most likely accept Jesus as a Bodhisattva). So, either the DL story is true, and Christian historical evidences are washed away; or it is false, in which case it still would be a problem for apologists that they have not taken the necessary time to deal with these alternative narratives which could falsify their own narrative. As a result, historical apologetic arguments, as they stand, demand incredibly little assent from a knowledgable non-believer.

What is reality?

I've been pondering over what it means for something to be real. We'll talk about things like whether the external world is real, whether an historical event is real, whether God is more real than the world, etc. However, what does real mean in these cases? Here are a couple of my attempts to parse things out:

(1) Publicness: "Reality" can be dispensed with in some circumstances, and we can talk about how public a phenomenon is instead. Dreams are not unreal, they are private. The reality of the external world is, at best, simply a best explanation as to why it is common to multiple subjects, and not anything necessary for its stability or for the success of science.

(2) Consistency: Reality is consistency. Dreams and hallucinations are inconsistent with the rest of our experience, and so we dismiss them as mere appearances.

(3) Effect: History is a bit trickier. I fail to see why we should care about historical events whose reality does not affect the present, though I suppose a complete theory must refer to such. Otherwise, it seems that an even is real if there would be effect A had it happened, and effect B otherwise, and effect A does in fact obtain. So, Christ's incarnation, death, and resurrection are real if they implement the effects they are said to effect, which presumably would not be effected otherwise. The question of whether Job and Esther (and IMHO at least the beginning of Genesis) are real seems to be a misleading question; they impact the present through their literary value mainly, and so this is the sphere of their reality.

(4) Actuality: The real is the true and actual in this very moment. This seems to me to be what grounds all of the other senses. Of course, we get into theories of time here. One theory (the block view, or B theory) states that the entire space-time continuum is one big block, which has an ordering of events. So, event A can be before event B, which is after A. However, there is no past, present, or future absolutely speaking; for every event A, A is in the present, everything before is past, everything after is future. However, these past and future events do exist. In contrast, the other main view of time (the presentist, or A theory) states that the present moment is what actually exists; the past and future do not. So, in the first theory, there is a set containing a Cretaceous-era Tyrannosaurus and a 21st century computer, while the second theory denies that this is possible. The former tends to be in vogue amongst the scientistifically minded, while idealists of varying stripes like the second.

If the block view is correct, then we have a way of discussing historical events in a new light; they are actual because they exist (once existent, always existent), and so are real. The publicness and consistency criteria also are expanded, in that what is most real is what is the most public/consistent at the most times. If the presentist view is correct, then there is nothing to be real except the present. Publicness and consistency also apply merely to the present moment, and so dreams, hallucinations, and perhaps even myths may be perfectly real at the present (though not necessarily at any other time).

Averroes and the Promulgation of Reason

I've been mulling over Averroes' Decisive Treatise. Some may have heard of the infamous "Two Truths" theory of the Latin Averroists, in which they claimed that there is one truth for faith, and one truth for reason, and that these sometimes conflict. Now, even that much has been handed down to us largely through those prosecuting the Averroists (as far as I understand), and so is probably not the most accurate view of the Latin movement even. In addition, most of Averroes' works to be translated into Latin were his commentaries, which leave out his most well-developed position (which is in the Decisive Treatise). So, here is a summary of Averroes' position, which seems to be highly relevant to many of the issues with which I've been struggling concerned the role of the laity to theology and intellectual endeavors.

Averroes considers people to fall into three classes, which pretty much correspond to philosophers, theologians, and everyone else, according to their level of understanding. Most people don't think too deeply about things, and so what they need is rhetoric and laws to help them get through life in good Islamic fashion. Some people have more discernment, however, and these people can pick up on dialectical arguments; that is, arguments concerning consequences, but not necessarily well-grounded. Finally, some people can look into the ultimate causes of things, and these people are suited for demonstration; that is, arguing from first principles.

Now, the thing is that for Averroes, all of these should reach the same truth. Demonstration, Dialectic, and Rhetoric all should be arriving at the same place, and so there should be no disagreement about the basic matters of the faith. However, one should be careful with what information one presents to people. It takes time to think through arguments, and demonstration in particular requires a good deal of study to use effectively. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, as far as Averroes is concerned, and so people should not be exposed to things beyond their understanding. The common person should not hear about the difficulties of interpretation of Scripture, and in fact are bound to believe the literal sense of passages even in the case of a symbolic meaning (as the literal sense has some connection to the inner meaning, and the person will be closer to the truth be following this than by going out of their depth). Similarly, theologians are fine with their material, but shouldn't play around with philosophy, while philosophers shouldn't confound the theologians with their arguments.

Of course, this has been a simplified presentation; I haven't read the book for a couple months, and I'll need to get back to it at some point. While I'm skeptical about the possibility of true demonstration, or a simple tripartite division, I think that the overall structure is recognizable in today's church. This division of knowledge would hardly be popular in our society, but I can't deny that at least at some level (apart from various details and the practicality of working it out), it appeals to me, at least if any standard of orthodoxy is to hold. Anyone with thoughts to share?

Second-Order Religious Pluralism

Sparked on by a short conversation with a friend the other day, I've been thinking about forms of religious pluralism, and what could possibly ground them. Now, the problems with a straight-forward approach (such as by Hick) are well-known; if nothing else, Hick et al. are really creating an alternative religion. So, is there any way of discussing religious pluralism which gets around this? Also, what is entailed by religious pluralism?

I've mentioned in other posts about attempts to explain Buddhism from within Christianity. Also, I think that Christianity could be explained by Buddhists from within a Buddhist framework. So, could it be that each religion could explain others from within its own framework? If this is so, than the pluralism which results would not end up as yet another religion, and there would be reason to continue dialogue. Statements such as "All religions are at root one" would be meaningful to all participants and commonalities could be established on this point, even though the reason why they are one would differ according to different views.

This seems to be analogous to morality amongst different cultures. There at least appears to be some (strong) family resemblance between moral codes, even though the reasons why one should be moral differ sometimes drastically (following the will of God, to attain enlightenment, developing virtue, heeding the categorical imperative, doing what creates the society with the most happy, fulfilled people, etc.). Despite the different causes of morality (and sometimes different prescriptions), all of these different views have enough in common to talk about the subject.

Given this, there still remain different types of religious pluralism; the two that seem to me to be the most important are referential and soteriological pluralism. I see no reason why relatively conservative members of religious traditions must deny referential pluralism (though accidentally to their orthodoxy there may be reasons); that is, that the different Realities spoken of within traditions all refer to the same Real (which, unlike Hick, is always refined within a tradition to that tradition's own Real). So, Christians can say that Muslims are referring to the same God as themselves, though inaccurately. Further, Buddhists even in their own views are really in some way (confusedly) referring to God, even if they deny such (as nirvana, or buddha-nature, or suchness, or perhaps something less well-defined). On the flip side, Buddhists can say that Christians, Muslims, et al. all are approaching the the Buddhist view of the Real, although perhaps with extra layers of symbolism and myth (which may need to be removed to truly attain enlightenment).

Soteriological pluralism is the more hotly contested topic. This would entail that the salvific efficacy of different religions are all at root one (and so, by implication, that many people in other religions can also be saved through their own practices). So, Christians can say that God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is actively working in the world (in all three persons). However, as actively working, there should be some actual workings, and so these can be referenced by Christians and non-Christians alike (otherwise, there seems little reason to assign more that psychological benefit to Christianity). From this, it could be (without assessing further information) that other religions have noticed the divine workings, and working follow alongside, though they do not have the proper names and categories to rationally process this. Similarly, Buddhists could see the point of Christianity to be anatta by subjecting one's will to the will of some God; even though this is merely mythical, it could supply what is necessary for Buddhist "salvation."

Miscellaneous Updates

I figured that I haven't written anything for a while, so I might as well post a few things that have been going on in my life.

I really do need to get up a Hegel post on Self-Consciousness; I've read through the section a couple times, but I've been too lazy to summarize it. I'll probably stop the series after that, though. I'm focusing more on language work now, and Hegel isn't really a good back-burner project. Hopefully I'll be able to take a course on him sometimes in the next couple years.

Also, I went to a conference at Marquette entitled "Aquinas and the Arabs," which was pretty interesting. The "Arabs" in question are basically everyone at the time doing philosophy in the Arabic language, which was a fairly significant group comprising Jews, Christians, and Muslims of varying ethnicities. So, I got to hear interesting papers on a variety of topics, including a layout of Avicenna's project of metaphysics, some strategies for working with thinkers from non-Christian traditions who get put into Christianized frameworks (with a case study in Maimonides and his own views of analogical speech regarding God), and a second phase of Islamic philosophy that often gets ignored (more on this in moment). Plus, we had some Persian food to cap off the weekend; good stuff.

The story regarding Islamic philosophy often goes as follows: they had some good stuff, as seen in people like Avicenna and Averroes (although this tended to be overly rationalistic and therefore arid), but then that al-Ghazali guy came along with his "Incoherence of the Philosophers" and put a stop to that. Afterward, with philosophy pushed aside, Muslims spent more time in irrational mysticism. The paper, given by David Burrell, pointed out that al-Ghazali was an important figure, but in ushering in a secondary phase of Islamic philosophy which has not received due attention in the West. al-Ghazali's positive contributions are generally overlooked; he was interested in rationally understanding his faith, but also thought that there was a dimension transcending what can be known rationally. Many subsequent movements in Islamic thought followed suit, as perhaps philosophical theologies, are philosophical mysticisms. Suhrawardi is one example, which his Philosophy of Illumination (both based on mystical experience, and on arguments against the Avicennian peripatetics on their own ground). Ibn Arabi is another mystical thinker concerned with understanding that thought rationally insofar as possible. Finally, the Persian philosopher Mulla Sadra combined the Avicennian philosophy with the thought of Suhrawardi and Ibn Arabi.

In other news, our pet gerbil Hime has died not too long ago; she had been sickly and in general old-gerbilish for a while, but holding on tenaciously.

On the opposite end of the news spectrum, Joy is now officially a C.P.A. Yay her!

The Purpose of Providence

Here's an issue that I've been struggling with: Does the notion of Divine Providence (DP) actually provide any substantial help for this life? I think that I've made most of these points below in various comments, but here they are in a streamlined argument. It seems to me that it does not. I start from the proposition that if DP were to provide help for this life, than it would provide an explanation for things of this life. However, something which explains everything within a given set of circumstances explains nothing in that set. DP explains everything within the set of temporal circumstances, at least for anyone reading this (pending rapture and other miscellaneous, questionable theological claims). Therefore, DP explains nothing concerning temporal circumstances.

Of course, this isn't exactly the happiest view, but I'm seriously wrestling with how to fill out the content of DP in a way that is actually meaningful for life, and for hope. These are my ruminations on why the answers I've heard so far just don't really help, and hopefully invitations for an answer that does make sense.

It seems that DP does not set any limits for the individual's life. God could do anything to this individual (and has in actuality done many both wonderful and awful things to concrete individuals), and we always have recourse to the mystery of the divine will. So, DP does not guarantee any specific circumstance in life.

Fine. So, let's get more abstract and say that DP guarantees the good of the individual without saying how this good will be attained (or even what specific good it will be; presumably, a given individual can be actualized in a variety of ways). However, this good would have to be actually good for the individual. Many individuals die in wretched circumstances, and unless universalism is true, many die forever apart from their salvation. So, DP doesn't guarantee the good of the individual. If universalism is true, then DP doesn't really change any possible situations in this life, so the conclusion remains.

One might say that DP can, however, assure the believer of their own good. However, even assuming the believer to be right (there would be many wrong believers with false hope, after all), there is the issue of exclusivism: that many appear for all intents and purposes to be believers , but really aren't (whether they lose faith, or never had it to begin with; the thing is that they appear to be like other believers both to others and to themselves). For these people as well, DP offers little hope. The issue is complicated on a strong enough inclusivist view to escape this problem, largely due to the fact that one would presumably be working outside of the dictates of both reason and revelation.

So, does DP assure us of ultimate goodness? Most likely, but this becomes so vague that it seems of little use. Also, whatever this "ultimate goodness" is, it can't be the world as it currently is. So, the only ones who might see such ultimate goodness in this life are those who would be on the cusp of history and the hereafter; most likely this will not be any of us, and at any rate has not been the majority of humanity. Therefore, DP does not give us any assurances about ultimate goodness actualized within our temporal lives.

Next we might look at specific Biblical passages. The Bible says that God will not let us be tempted beyond what we can bear. To be perfectly honest, I have an awfully hard time taking that verse at face value given the actualities of life; if this were really true, there would be less yielding to temptation amongst God's chosen. One can always in theory hold on a little bit longer; to point that out in a given situation is generally vacuous, and doesn't change the fact that God, knowing that a person would actually snap at a given point, tempted them beyond that point.

Then we have the verse about nothing separating us from the love of God, which can only extricate one once one explains what content there is behind this love. And any promises about God's ability to save say nothing about God's actually planning to save; His lack of saving can always be explained as part of some larger, mysterious plan (and thus we are back where we started).

So, what could DP help us to understand? It could help us to understand what will happen outside of our present lives in a couple of the above instances; it still is no guarantee that God will work everything for our good, though, if anyone is condemned. So, either universalism is true, or DP has no application to the individual's hope.

It may not have any application to hope, but perhaps it has some other application. By knowing the ultimate end of things, we can direct our lives along that same path. So, knowledge of DP can help us to orient our lives, assuming our knowledge of it to be accurate enough. Of course, that raises up a bunch of other issues (largely epistemological, though it also seems to again open up the doors to a soteriology based on practice), but it at least provides some use. There also remains the issue that the big picture may make sense, but it does nothing for most of the details of our lives.

So, in summary: DP is pretty much worthless for providing any sort of hope for the soteriological exclusivist, and doesn't say much (if anything) about what we can hope from God on any other soteriological view. Even if God is in control of every single event, managing every little detail, we have little cause to hope that this would end up making our earthly lives different from a cold, uncaring cosmos, or a karma-run infinite universe. If we have knowledge of how God is running the world, we can insert ourselves into that same story, but even this is more a matter of making our lives meaningful (or at least more meaningful) rather than actually providing hope for anyone's good.

Phenomenology of Spirit: Force and Understanding

I've been taking my time getting through Hegel; I finally realized that I couldn't continue without some sort of commentary or summary reading of Hegel, and further that I most likely have been misreading some sections. After going through this, I had to go back and reread this current section to try to make sense out of it. But, here is the next portion of Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit: Force and Understanding.

Outline

1. Notion of Force overcomes problem with Perception
1. Force must express itself
2. Necessity of active-passive poles show Force to be mere notion
2. Law as the Super-sensible Realm
1. Law must be unified, but only gives content as determinate particulars
2. No necessity to law, but simply description
3. Only constant difference...
3. Second Super-sensible Realm, Infinity, and Beyond
1. ...as well as constant unification
2. Since law is super-sensible "in-itself," everything must constantly differentiate and unify
3. Second super-sensible world opposite of first, to explain first
4. Interplay between two creates an "infinity," shows self-consciousness

Previously in Hegel, he has been looking at forms of consciousness, showing how each ,is inadequate for the task it has set out for itself. Sense certainty, in the end, cannot actually provide it's own certainty, nor can it account for the richness of its supposed content. This does not mean that we ignore it, but rather that there must be another level which can explain this. Perception makes some headway, but in the end cannot reconcile its vision of the object as both universal and particular. In addition, the possibility of deception removes poses a serious problem for Perception, which cannot explain how a thing can have its united grouping of particular properties based solely on sense perception. We need concepts to do this, and so we proceed to the Understanding.

Understanding's big problem in what follows is this: it posits some concept, some notion in order to fix the problems which it sees, but these notions always remain just that: notions in consciousness rather than a fix in reality. To start from where perception leaves off, Hegel posits force, which differentiates unities in its expression, and then unifies this plurality as well, binding together the object which is both many and one. However, since the force must express itself, there must be a soliciting force as well. These two forces, in turn, cannot exist without each other, and show that the idea of "two forces" is something merely in our minds rather than the structure of reality.

Further, we assume that there is an "in-itself" of the object, which the forces are supposed to be. Appearance supposedly joins this in-itself to our understanding, but what could this super-sensible world behind appearances be? Hegel responds that, on this level of consciousness (we must answer the question from Understanding's perspective, not from our own as philosophers looking on), the only thing that we can tell about this in-itself is that it is unified, that it is a constant difference (the one thing common to everything is that everything is different from everything else).

From here, one can try to posit laws behind the flux of the sensible world, but this does not work. For one thing, this supersensible reality is unified, but laws only tell us something when they are broken into parts (force equals mass times acceleration, for example, needs "force" to be split into "mass" and "acceleration," space and time; electricity needs to be split into positive and negative aspects). Either these aspects suffer the same fate as active and passive forces (they are mental constructs used to example a simple reality), or the describe things which are, at this level of consciousness, indifferent to each other (such as space and time). Any "necessity" to these laws is a sham, as the laws must only describe what is happening. They cannot explain.

But, Hegel continues, these laws do show something: what is simple, what is itself, must be unlike itself. Simple laws tell us nothing, so they differentiate into particular, determinate laws. These, in turn, show us that the unlike becomes the like: these particular, determinate, partial laws can only be insofar as their differences vanish. We are in a sea, as it were, of thing continually differentiating and unifying, never capturable in a single moment. But this is the nature of the super-sensible realm, then, and we must posit a secondary super-sensible realm which is the opposite of the first to make sense of this (note: I still don't understand this part, but I'll put down what I have so far).

If something is sweet, then by the rule of difference, it must be sour in the second super-sensible realm. A crime in the 1st must be justice in the second. These are also not merely one-possibility-against-anothers, but rather both are true of something; there is an inner world in which something can be unlike itself. There is a possibility of intentions, of meanings and thoughts which are not quite the same as the outside world. This removes the determination of the world in a way, and creates a self-reflection which is self-consciousness. However, there has been no nature given to self-consciousness yet, and so that is where Hegel continues is his next rather large section.

Worship and Play

I don't typically like to play, unless it involves learning a new language which I really shouldn't take on. I don't like sitting down and watching movies usually, I can't stand watching sports, and I usually put down video games after the first initial "play it for 10 hours a day" sprint (usually itself due to the fact that I only normally take time off from my studies to do different studies). I wonder if sometimes this is because I don't take worship seriously enough? Now, I don't mean that the two are coextensive; there is certainly play which is not worship, and work done well for the Lord is worship as well. However, work is something which is done for another reason, while play is something which is not; it is either purposeless, or for its own purpose and enjoyment. Now, the only thing which could be truly and rightfully done for its own sake is to enjoy God (c.f. Augustine's distinction between 'use' and 'enjoyment' in De Doctrina Christiana). So, proper play is always an enjoyment of God, though this can be through the created order (rejoicing in creation is implicit rejoicing in the Creator). If this connection is lost, then of course play makes little sense; why whittle away what little time we have doing nothing? But even for all of our work to make sense, it has to point to some goal. Since this life is not about our own attainment of this goal, by our own Promethean urges to steal the divine fire (thanks to Merton in The New Man for this analogy), this life ought not to be all about work, and time should be taken for worshipful play.

Towards a Theology of Fantasy

Worlds of fantasy, whether in film, in books, in video games, or what not, help us to see our own world as it is. The could-have-been worlds reveal the sheer contingency of the way things are, and the corresponding craft of the Workman who has made them. For every instance of magic, of mystical spirits and walking trees, we learn to see that the everyday trees and creatures are no less wondrous, and that maybe our own world has been fitted to our own personal lives as little as the strange, alien realm of fantasy.

The Purpose of Church

<bitter angsty rant>

What is the church, and why should we hang out with the local congregations? I hear an awful lot of stuff these days along the lines of, "You're not supposed to get anything out of church; you're supposed to be there to serve." While there is some wisdom to this, it also seems to me to be a cop-out. If everyone has a problem with "not getting something out of church," this would normally suggest to me that something has gone disastrously wrong; one should be able to spiritually grow within the local congregation, and not solely from the development of long-suffering.

What happens when one's faith grows weaker after every sermon, when one can no longer even wish to believe what is said in the empty-headed sentimentalism called worship? When opportunities for service are basically being an usher (aka doorstop with bulletins) or working in the bookstore, selling the latest popular poison to infect our churches? Teaching of any sort would be right out, because one doesn't want to simply yell "Jesus" and "Bible" (in reverse order of importance) louder and louder. So, both helping and being helped are really not happening. However, is the path of rugged individualism really Biblical either? Is the community on a blog and on Facebook really a church substitute, or the functional equivalent of a local congregation in this day and age?

What really worries me, though, is Paul's insistence that God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak to overcome the strong. Now, God chose Israel, who showed the strength of God by actually being strong despite their regulations and humble origins (at least when they were following God). So, I'm assuming that the foolish would have to actually confound the wise, not simply taunt everyone else at the last judgment. Further, James does say that God will give wisdom to all who ask. Now, what do I do when there really seems to be very little wisdom in the church? Sure, I can read Augustine, and Aquinas, and so on and so forth, and these people really are the only reason why I'm still a Christian at all. However, the promises seem to be that the common people and not just the already brilliant guys would confound the wise. So, when there is surprisingly little attention paid to Proverbs exhortations to leave simplicity for wisdom within the local congregation, this reflects on the lack of God's work, it would seem to me. But, if God isn't working in the promised way, why should I really assume that God is acting at all?

Similarly, when it comes to living the righteous lifestyle, I seem to be getting mixed messages. On the one hand, I'm told that God's power should be working in me; on the other, I'm told that I have to appropriate this through (insert variation of visualization technique here). Why should I assume that this is God's power working and not merely my own psychological trick? Quite honestly, I find more practical wisdom in Buddhist thought, deficient as I think it is in the long run. If God's acting, then why isn't God acting? If salvation is only for the next life, then this gives us a defeater for belief in it at all.

In sum, here is my question: The Bible claims that God acts in some ways rather than others, presumably with empirical effects. At what point can this claim be falsified, or must we always just grit our teeth and hang onto faith despite any signs of God's presence besides a possible event 2000 years ago? How would this really be faith any longer?

</bitter angsty rant>

Phenomenology of Spirit: Perception

It's been a while since I read this section, so hopefully I'll get it correctly enough. I'm going to leave out most of Hegel's argument, because (a) I don't understand it all myself, and (b) to put it all in would be more or less to repeat the Phenomenology. Also, when I compare a stage in Hegel's thought to one philosophy or another, I do not mean that Hegel made this connection, but rather that I think that it helps explain the view (although it's hard to escape the blatant Aristotelianism in part of the next section).

Summary:

1. Movement in Object
1. Many indifferent properties coexisting in universal medium (white, tart, cubical, but each a different, non-interacting quality)
2. However, determinate unity, through exclusion from all else (this white and this tart and this cubical)
3. Properties as properties of One Thing(both universal and determinate)
2. Movement in Consciousness (discovered through possibility of deception)
1. Differences in consciousness breaking up object (e.g. different senses) into in different aspects; we are the universal medium; however, differences are already specifically determined, and so in Thing itself
2. Unity through all the different aspects united in one consciousness
3. Object existing both for-itself and for-an-other, since it is both many determinate properties and also synthesized in consciousness
3. Movement up to Force (due to impossibility of reconciling contradictions within perception)

In this section, Hegel picks up from sense-certainty. Where sense-certainty started with simply the immediate presence of the Here, the Now, and the empirical I, perception starts grouping together sense impressions as different universals (remember that the movements of sense-certainty established all the different This-es as having their reality under the aspect of the universal). We see different sense-impressions together in the same place, and this yields a thing with properties. This first takes the form of a set of different properties (different universals) sharing the same space, but indifferent to each other. An example Hegel gives is salt, in which there exist in the same place white, tart, and cubical, although none of these different qualities really have anything to do with each other yet.

At the same time, the thing differentiates itself from other things, gaining a unity through this negation of everything else. At the same time, the "properties" cease becoming universals and are now determinate through each other; this white is also tart and cubical, etc., unlike other whites. As such, we have a "singular individuality in the medium of subsistence radiating forth into plurality. (P115)"

However, this simultaneous unity and multiplicity, exclusion and determinateness, creates a problem for perception; as any objective Thing would have self-identity, the problems in their contradictory nature must be in our own perception. Therefore, we must revisit these movements (which had been on the side of the object) within our own consciousness. The True, the being-in-itself, is therefore reflected into Consciousness, where we we again analyze it, recompare it to the object, make adjustments, and repeat ad nauseam. The truth of perception ultimately lies within consciousness itself, and unlike apprehension (the step with sense-certainty), perception involves a reflection onto itself.

The differences in the object occur due to our own nature; our difference of senses give rise to the distinction between sight, smell, taste, touch, etc. We ourselves are the universal medium for these properties, which are indifferent to each other. However, these different aspects are all specifically determined through being in the determinate Thing, and so in this way are in the Thing itself; they, however, are indifferent to each other in its thing-hood. At the same time, they gain a unity through being combined in the same consciousness, such that they are distinct only insofar as one is not the other; the salt is white insofar as it is not cubical, cubical insofar as it is not tart, and so on, although these are not actually separate.

The Thing itself is existing in this two-fold way, both as many and one, both as for itself and for another, "and, moreover, it is an other on its own account, just because it is for and other. . . . (P 123)" However, to avoid contradiction, one aspect must be essential and the other non-essential. Hegel goes through the options, showing that there is no essence to be found for the Thing. The Thing is empty, and perception can only work by alternating between the aspects. In order to overcome this, we must move on the the next circle: Force and the Understanding.

St. Isaac the Syrian

For those who have not seen it before, I've seen some good stuff on Koinonia, a blog by an Eastern Orthodox priest. As of late, he's been writing on St. Isaac the Syrian, discussing similar issues to what I've brought up on universalism. Links are at:

• Part I
• Part II
• Part III
• Part IV

Email and Hegel

Since I figure that most people whom I email read this blog, my new email will be michael [dot] anderson [at] marquette [dot] edu.

I've been continuing my reading in Hegel, though I've been procrastinating working through it enough to put it on the blog. In the meantime, though, here are some things that I've been noticing:

• Hegel's peculiar logic. The textbook categorization of this has been "Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis," which is wrong. That's Kant, and it describes Kant's system quite well, actually. Hegel, however, cannot be captured by such a formal logical maneuver; he works from within the contingent and half-correct views which we put forward, and shows how they negate and then supercede themselves. One way to think of this is through the pattern "Concrete - Abstract - Unity," in which he starts with something as it is in itself in concrete reality (such as immediate sense experience), then shows how this negates itself and becomes and abstract thought-object (sense experience reveals itself to be only meaningful as a universal), and then shows a unity (the original "this" in sense experience is regained, but as one instantiation of a universal). It is not any negation or any unity, however, but the specific ones resulting from the tensions in the object, resulting from it being both in-itself and for-another. "Negation" may not even be the best word, but perhaps even "limitation"; the view of sense experience shows a limitation, which is overcome by the notion of the universal, which in turn shows a limitation which is overcome by bringing back in the particular "this."
• Hegel's system is highly symmetrical, in a hall of mirrors sort of way. The movement seen in Sense Certainty is repeated in the next two sections, only at a higher level and with submovements (fractals come to mind).
• Another way of looking at his logic seems to be that of a dual movement: one is going back and forth, transcending the limitations of each view, and the other is an upward movement which encompasses more and more, leading to an overall movement like an upward spiral.

Phenomenology of Spirit: Sense Certainty

After outlining the methodology of his project, Hegel begins this analysis of the patterns of consciousness with sense experience. This is because sense experience is what is most immediate and most basic; the truth of sense experience is simply what it is, nothing more, nothing less; its simple fact of existence is all that there is to it.

We at first can make a distinction based on the nature of the experience: the sense-experience itself is seemingly separable from our knowing it, as it as an object would seem to be there whether or not the knower is. Its being is essential, and our knowing of it contingent. In order to discover this being, we must ask ourselves, "What is This?"

Now, normally we can write down a truth, and it stays true. However, with sense-experience, as soon as we write down something like "Now is noon," the Now (a temporal This) has already passed by; the truth is "stale." It is preserved merely in the fact that it now is not, as a negation of the present Now. Further, we notice that we cannot speak about sense-experience directly. The best that we can do is to point out, "This," but the "This" is the most abstract and undetermined of universals. We cannot say what we mean.

Through this, we see that sense experience is not as immediate as we had first assumed. It is, in fact, entirely mediated; the This is preserved through what is not-This, and what we mean is always at odds with what we say.

So, certainty is not found in the object of sense-experience. Next, let us try the subject, the 'I' which has the experience. However, the 'I' (at least phenomenologically at this point) turns out to be another indexical, utterable as a universal but never meaning the concrete 'I' with the experience of the Here and Now.

Therefore, we run into an impasse whether we start from either the subject or the object. Next, let us take the whole of sense experience, rather than simply a specific This, and we'll consider this whole as the essence of sense-experience. As we are taking the whole, we cannot factor out an 'I' or an object. We see that for any This, we first negate it (as right away we are dealing with another This), but then we negate the negation (and I'm not really sure what Hegel means here, but I think it is that we realize that if the This were simply negated, it would simply not be, but it does exist in a certain sense). However, the This is not the same after this double negation; in the first instance it was immediate, but as soon as we had to think about it it became something "reflected back on itself."

As we go through this, we realize that the "true" Now is a plurality of Nows, and this is how it is a universal.

The sense that I make out is that it is the succession, the history of Nows, of Heres, of Is which makes any one of them what they are; there would not be any indexicals if there were not others, but at the same time each one does exist, as part of the plurality of indexicals. The transitoriness is part of the experience, but there would be no transitoriness without others, and so everything is what it is through others and this only exists as (a subjective part of?) a universal. Hegel goes on to say that "the sense-certainty is nothing else but just this history." So, experience is actually the opposite of a universal, and has no being in itself; animals approach particulars appropriately and profoundly by eating them.

At this point, Hegel sees the necessity of stepping beyond the simple apprehension of sense-experience to the perception of it, and that is where I will begin next time.

Closing Thoughts on Universalism

I think that I'll most likely end my posts on Universalism here (although, Scott, if you want to talk about any other articles in the Talbott book, let me know). Here is Talbott's case for universalism in a nutshell:

1. If we take all the the Bible on its surface level, we seem to have the following inconsistent triad:
   1. God wills that everyone would be saved.
   2. God's will will be accomplished in the end.
   3. Some people will be eternally damned.
2. Arminians reject the second option, and Augustinians the first.
3. However, each group seems to care more about their own choice from the top two, than about the third, and they have done some solid exegesis to show that "God wills everyone to be saved," on the one hand, and "God's will will be accomplished in the end" on the other.
4. Given this, it seems plausible to say that the verses which should be taken in a non-apparent fashion are those which support the third option.

Of course, Talbott also does Biblical work to back up his view, though I will not cover that here due to space and lack of competency.

Now, I see some force to this argument, However, I've had to come a bit further before settling (somewhat unstably) on Universalism myself. Jerry Walls has an essay in the book in which he argues that given non-compatibilist free will, God cannot save everyone; someone could always be too stubborn for redemption. Talbott himself thinks that in order to be just, God must give everyone full knowledge of what their actions entail; given this, Talbott claims, how could people not choose God? Walls responds that we can only respond to so much of the truth at a time; it would be perfectly just for God to give us some truth which would be relevant to our present actions, and then more from there. If we reject the truth given to us, then that is our own fault. So, on Walls' view, some people could reject God, because they never have to be shown a full-on view of God and thereby know fully what they are rejecting.

As far as I can see, I think that these two on their own are at a stalemate. Eric Reitan responds that the chance that this possible world is one in which everyone would stay in Hell for all eternity is infinitesimally small; assuming that people in Hell could chose to leave (a point on which Talbott and Walls seem to be in agreement), the probability that Hell is empty would be continually increasing, reaching 1 as time goes to infinity. Therefore, the chance that we have such rum luck as to be in the, say, one possible world in which Hell is perpetually non-empty is so small that we can assume that this is not that world.

Against Reitan, one could point out the hardening effects of sin. One could say that the longer one is in Hell, the less likely one is to want to leave, and so the probability does not actually approach 1 that Hell will be empty. Against this, one could point out the breaking effects of Hell and sin, and how even a hardened sinner would eventually have to face their own choices. Again, there seem to be reasons to hold both sides.

There are a couple other arguments which I could go through, but here is my conclusion: it is logically possible (and on the grounds presented so far, not holly implausible) that Hell will be non-empty, but I can't affirm this. The reason is that I can't accept exclusivism (see various earlier posts), and the more I try to work out inclusivism, the more Pelagian I seem to become (loosely speaking; I still hold that Arminianism is neither Pelagian nor Semi-Pelagian). So, in order to account for God's grace, I am leaning toward universalism and the view that divine Goodness is powerful enough to eventually win over the most determined sinners. Of course, this is not a detailed argument (or perhaps any at all), but it's the reasoning I see in front of me currently.

Grad Schools, Reprise

I just got a call today that Marquette can offer me a position with funding. So I'll be going into a doctoral program after all next year. Woo-hoo!

Transgender Issues

A while back, I had read through an article on transgender issues in the church in Christianity Today (see here). While I'm not terribly familiar with the specific details of this debate, it seems that many of the same problems come up in sundry issues involving social- and bio-ethics these days. So, here are my relatively uninformed questions to the two sides:

Pro-Transgender: How does one feel like a woman/man in a man's/woman's body? It would seem to be that at the very moment when physical gender is so plastic, the gender stereotypes must be more rigid than ever in order to create this turmoil. There must be a determinate "feeling" of woman-ness or man-ness for this to make sense, but the stronger this is, the more it is simply a social construct rather than a physical issue (whether or not it would be more than a social construct to begin with).

Anti-Transgender: The whole notion that "God doesn't make mistakes" simply does not apply. First, God could have intended to create someone who would later have a sex-change operation, and thus have not made a mistake; after all, we are born naked, but we put on clothes, we are born little, but we grow, we are born foolish, and (some) gain understanding. How we are born does not determine what God has intended. Second, God does allow evil in the world, and this, as evil, is what should not be. In other cases, we are called to overcome it; why could this case not be analogous? After all, we are all programmed with hormones, but we shouldn't be following them indiscriminately. Instead, we have to deny them (and say that God made a "mistake"?) at times. Others around us may be working injustice; do we sit back, because God has created that situation? In short, in order for Evangelicals to even begin this line (in any case; euthanasia IMHO has similar issues), they need to work out a much fuller natural law ethics than they currently have, and I don't see many willing to put the time into this (what the typical Evangelical "feels" is right does not count as a basis).

Phenomenology of Spirit: Introduction

Learning languages is fun and all, but it's time for me to get back into something more than essays for philosophy. I've picked up Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit, partially because I figure that I should get somewhat of a grasp on Hegel at some point, partially because I want to understand Kierkegaard better and so I want to know what's going on in German/Danish intellectual life at that time, and partially because the Introduction to Phenomenology of Spirit seems to have similar concerns about the nature of cognition that I have been wrestling with (I'm skipping the Preface to the book, as the Forward had suggested that it really is of much more use after one has read the rest of the book). As there's no way that I'll understand Hegel without doing some digesting of his work and restating it, I'm going to summarize what I've been reading. Anyone reading this blog who has a background in Hegel (which, as far as I know, is a grand total of 1 person), please feel free to let me know when I'm totally missing the point.

Key Points:

• We should have skepticism regarding our own views as well as others, and so find what is wrong with them as they come up.
• All negations are determinate negations, and not pure nothingness.
• While we cannot observe our consciousness directly, we can observe the patterns of consciousness as one leads to another through its negation.

Hegel's question is this: how do we know that we know what we know? It would seem that either there is a gap in between our concepts and the Absolute, or that we receive truth through a medium. Both would seem to create a problem for knowing. However, even this fear assumes something: that there is a difference between our cognition and the Absolute, or Truth. Now, we have not yet defined what these mean, and so must go about doing such.

Different sources give different answers to what any sort of knowledge is, and these different sources themselves end up merely being one word against another. We must instead look at the phenomenon itself, instead of these opinions about it (each of which is less than the phenomenon). We then start by doubting, but ourselves as well as authorities; our skepticism is against the "whole range of phenomenal counsciousness." We can look at the pattern of counsciousness which arises out of this systematic doubt, since every negation is not just a mere negation, but a definite negation of something specific.

It turns out that we have a goal given by the project itself: when knowledge no longer goes beyond itself, but is united with its goal, and "Notion corresponds to object and object to Notion." In the case of consciousness, the Notion is the same as its object, always going beyond itself. Because of this, it never can rest in a given place, always spoiling its own limited satisfactions.

Our study then is concerned with our knowing, and the essence/being-in-itself/truth. Consciousness is also always twofold, both distinguishing itself and relating itself to things. The relating is the knowing, and the distinguishing gives us the being-in-itself. What we want to know, then, is whether the Notion (of consciousness) is the same as the object (also consciousness). In comparing the knowledge with the truth, the truth is no longer simply being-in-itself, but rather has become being-for-consciousness of this in-itself; and upon the changing of our Notion, the object alters as well. So, the reality of what is happening is not directly observable by us.

However, in the course of experience, we will see constant negations in this stream of becoming. As negations are all negations of something, the second object in this sequence contains the "nothingness of the first," again a definite nothingness which preserves what was true about the first. The origination of these objects through these negations is what we can know, even if not the being-in-itself This process of negations also arises out of necessity, and so this process of becoming is itself a Science. Finally, we will come to a point (Hegel promises) while seeking out the patterns of consciousness where appearance and essence will coincide, giving us absolute knowledge.

I don't really understand what Hegel is saying well enough to offer any criticisms or thoughts on the matter; I think that I'll need to see a couple of his arguments in action. Nevertheless, if anyone has the time to read this, fire some questions my way to force me to try to work things out.

Theses on Hell

As a way of sorting through the stuff I've been thinking about with regards to universalism/inclusvism, I'm posting some points concerning the nature of Hell. Feel free to drop in with comments, criticisms, what not. As theses, I currently don't have arguments for these points, but I think they make intuitive sense.

1. Everyone in Hell must, given their characters at the time, necessarily be in Hell. It is not a contingent feature of the world that a person of X character is eternally saved or suffering.
2. For this reason, if someone is in Hell, they are in Hell due to some feature of God's character of of their own. It seems that these are the only two choices which would give grounds for the necessity of the 1st thesis.
3. Hell can be either retributive, redemptive, or unavoidable. The first is if we can say that sinners, due to some feature in their own character of of God's, must necessarily be punished. The second is if Hell would (at least possibly) lead to a better end for those punished. The third is if Hell is not a place of justice, but simply an unavoidable by-product of the way the world is, or of other decision which God has made concerning how the world would be set up.
4. Hell could only be retributive if God's nature demanded retribution. The person's own character cannot necessitate retribution without some source from outside herself mandating retribution, and if God only contingently wills retribution, then it would not be necessary and would not be truly just.
5. Given that God does forgive some, it is not absolutely necessary that God mete out retribution.
6. Given that there is no necessary link between explicit acceptance of Christ's death and God's forgiveness (though there is with the fact of Christ's death, incarnation, and resurrection), there is no relative necessity for why God must mete out retribution.
7. Retributive justice really doesn't make sense anyhow, and in theology it is largely an artifact of first feudal (with honor) and then capitalist (with debt) societies, rather than part of God's own character.
8. Hell, therefore, is either redemptive or unavoidable.
9. If Hell is unavoidable, then it is such due to the person's character and not God's nature (otherwise, we'd be talking about retribution).
10. Anyone who truly knows the good and realizes that apart from it, there is no good, would not necessarily hold out against it forever.
11. Hell is therefore either redemptive, or contingently unavoidable.
12. If exclusivism (that is, salvation through explicit acceptance of Jesus through that name or as translated and interpreted within a traditional Christian framework), then the gospel would be horrible news to most people; before, God could say, "What does the Lord require of you? To do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God," but now these very same activities not only could be non-salvific but anti-salvific, when they would cause someone to reject an often unjust, unmerciful, and prideful Christian witness.

Emanation and Emergentism

Just some random, crazy musings, to feel out some concepts: What would the difference be between a top-down look at the universe, and a bottom-up one? Putting aside questions of fit with revealed theology, I propose the two scenarios: One one, we have a Neoplationic-esque One emanating through the Mind and World Soul, culminating in matter. In the other, matter "thinks itself," gives rise to emergent properties (that is, properties not completely reducible to the physical properties of matter), which in turn culminates in Absolute Self-Consciousness, and Omega Point, God, whatever the specific system may declare it.

In both cases, we would have a hierarchy, with top-down causation (presumably in both, the more complex affects the less complex; it is more a matter of explanatory and causal priority). We would still have the differing levels of causation, with God/One/Absolute acting on everything, and the mental/Nous/noosphere/etc. (Dust?) on the material; both would seem to fit the model of essential causation which I had mentioned previously.

It seems that the present moment might actually look pretty similar for both; however, there would be a difference in whether the Past or Future is the ultimate reality; Platonic Forms (especially as in Eliade's The Myth of the Eternal Return) or Aristotelian Teleology (everything striving toward the Prime Mover as a final cause), perhaps?

Of course, these options are not exclusive; we could say, for example, that God creates in a more emanationist like manner from which then mind emerges (or just skip both modes of talking altogether; but that's outside of the present thought experiment). If we could say that God is affected by creation (voluntarily or otherwise), we could even have feedback loops, and (perhaps?) strange loops in the world (that is, hierachies that fold back on themselves, such as Russell's paradox and Goedel's theorem). Would this give the world both the unity and complexity which it has?

So, from there, why would I be concerned with this stuff? Part of what I want to do is to figure out what exactly various themes throughout perfectly orthodox Christian thought mean; what does Athansius mean when talking about the Logos in all of the universe, or Augustine in talking about the Infinite which is wholly itself wherever it is, or Bonaventure in his threefold ontology of emanation, exemplarity, and consummation? Aquinas' ipsum esse and Scotus' (or, as I've found out, Ibn Sina's) essential causes? How about traditional doctrines of God's sustaining power, as well as role as first efficient cause and ultimate final cause? Is there a philosophical explanation underlying the experience of countless Christian mystics, East and West?

It seems like most of these feature both of these movements at once: simultaneously a procession (whether necessary, as in classical Neoplatonism, or contingent, as in Christian adaptations), and a return (whether through a beatific vision, apokastatis, theosis), and so therefore both the teleological, forward, bottom-up approach and the essential, backward, top-down approach.

2008 Elections

I don't normally put in anything on politics, but I think that this video shows clearly who ought to win the presidential election this year.

Assorted Thoughts on Damnation

I've been finding that with the whole study concerning universalism, I've had to face issues from two different angles: the philosophical, and the existential, and that I've had to resolve them in almost opposite fashions. One the one hand, I just can't philosophically hold to any sort of exclusivism (except perhaps, reluctantly, to an annihilationist account), while existentially I've had to face the question of the possibility that I myself would be one of the damned.

Philosophically, I cannot see what the necessary connection would be between accepting Christ and salvation; I just can't conceive of salvation which doesn't involve fundamentally an change in being, and there seem to be other ways in which this could be mediated than through an explicit acceptance of Christ's work. Now, it may be that Christ's work has been actually necessary for the possibility of salvation (or at least the most fitting way in which God could have accomplished His goals); however, what is the link which leads from explicit acceptance to sanctification? The whole business commonly heard in Evangelical circles concerning this seems to be that "You need to accept what's been given to you for it to do any good; leaving an inheritance in the bank doesn't help you any." But why must an explicit acceptance of Christ be the only way to get this inheritance?

The only answer that I can see is that God has contingently willed it. This is possible, but I am having issues understanding how this could be a just method; I can't escape from the idea that this is a "secret password" soteriology, a kind of gnosis which leads to an enlightenment. Alternatively, perhaps God is just pulling all the strings, and using the explicit acceptance as a fitting marker for those He has elected; but I have yet to hear a coherent explanation of this which does not lead to double predestination, and any way in which a double predestination (other than Barth's) does not make God into a being worse than the devil, or to introduce amorality into the foundation of the universe.

So, why would we be commanded to preach to gospel if others could be saved apart from it? I can think of three reasons. First, the whole notion that "we must preach the gospel because otherwise no one will be saved" I find to be too utilitarian; isn't there a dimension to preaching which is simply rejoicing in what God has done, without having to worry about results? Couldn't simply glorification of God in God's grace and goodness be reason enough to preach?

Second, an analogy which I have heard before in this regard is that there is a building on fire, and we are the ones warning everyone to get out. It seems to me that this warning is still perfectly effective and needed, even if some people with different knowledge (perhaps they know about a fire in a different room, or an impending earthquake) also are warning people, and if some are sauntering out the doors, naturally exiting even if they do not know about the problem. Of course, there are places where this analogy breaks down (it doesn't really provide for sin, most importantly), but the point is this: preaching the gospel could still be important even if God has sovereignly provided other ways in which people could accept his grace through Christ.

Third, even if other people could ultimately be saved (that is, "saved" as in participating in the new creation from the non-smoking section) apart from hearing the gospel, they would not necessarily experience the fullness of salvation in this life otherwise (where salvation here would be the sancitification and healing of our human natures). There would be a reason to preach what Jesus has done and how He has lived, a living icon of our God, for this would teach others to walk likewise.

So, on the one hand, there are these philosophical issues, which I have trouble getting around. On the other hand, I've been wrestling with the following: I can only trust God as much as other people can; in effect, we are all isomorphic before God. If others can hope for God's mercy and be denied, so can I; if others can seek God with all their heart and be frustrated, so can I. No reason seems solid enough, no argument complete enough to make my faith certain, and I must admit that I have no idea what the "witness of the Spirit" is supposed to be. On a personal level, then, I've had to ask myself the question: what if God really were to damn me? All arguments aside, I've had (to start) to accept that whoever God damns, God damns in a perfectly good and just manner in a way that glorifies Him. I can hope that this would be nobody, but even if it weren't, anger at God for this is incoherent. So, I guess I have to trust that God will make things plain to me if this is His will, and if He does not and so damns me for this, it will be just, even if I can't see how.