Saturday, April 30, 2005

Tymoshenko Update

Remember my new notional girlfriend, that champion of the people, Yulia Tymoshenko... how her peasant braids nicely compliment the power-suits she now wears.

Anyway, I noticed that someone had come to my blog from Google, having done a search with the following string:

yulia tymoshenko bathing

Give it a Google. It turns out that my blog is the first, among all the websites in the world, that appears in the search results. I feel... famous, special. Thank you blogging!

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Deliberatin': Quasi-Enthymemetic Inference

This post will mainly respond to some of Pugsley's commentary on Skepticism about Deliberation, Part 1. I'll address one of his comments by filling in some detail about one of my worries about direct perceptual judgment.

Pugsley helpfully suggests that inference (as a psychological process) is a causal matter: "I don't see why the distinction [between mere sequence of thoughts and inferences] is different from the distinction between (a) a conjoined pair of events with no causation and (b) an earlier event causing a later event."

To infer is to have at least one thought cause at least one other thought. Call this the Pugsleyan theory.

[Before I start shooting, let me note that clearly something along these lines is right: inference -- understood here as a psychological happening -- is a causal matter. When I conclude that Q, based on some premises, it is causally because of my acceptance of the premises that I conclude that Q. If I hadn't accepted the premises I wouldn't have accepted the conclusion. If I didn't accept the premises, but came to, and then aimed to deduce based on them, I would accept the conclusion. It probably burns calories to infer. If God put a halt to causation, then despite my beginning with the premises I wouldn't continue to the conclusion. etc.]

I have some general, counter-example-y doubts about the Pugsleyan view, but I do not propose to dwell on them. Surely there must be some causal relations between thoughts that do not count as inferences. For example: my desire for cheese might cause me to think that I ought to call Grandma (she was a big fan of cheese, herself). Not an inference. But anyway...

If we accept the Pugsleyan view (strictu dictu), then we cannot maintain a distinction between direct perceptual judgment and inference-based perceptual judgment. Not (anyway) if the direct perceptual judgment is supposed to be formed without judgment. You'll have one state -- the experience -- and causation running from that to a judgment. This will count as an inference on the Pugsleyan account. And so direct perceptual judgment will turn out to be inferential after all.

It is possible that what people meant to focus on was a distinction between judgments based (whether this basing relation counts as inferential or not) on experience alone and judgments based on experience and other judgments or beliefs. Judgments formed on the basis of experience along (and not also on other judgments and beliefs) count as directly perceptual.

But now: note that in attributing inferences to ourselves we often suppose that we've made what I'll call quasi-enthymemetic inferences. Such inferences are enthymemetic in the sense that at the level of conscious thought they move from at least one premise to a conclusion, and yet do so in a way that fails to warrant the conclusion. They are quasi-enthymemetic because a non-occurrent (and hence non-conscious) belief actually functions as a premise -- actually pulls causal weight in whatever way premises do. In a sense, the premise was there all along. But, it seems, our mode of access to that part of our own mentality is theoretical, not introspective (or whatever).

You'll see what I mean by working through an example. Imagine: You think that P, you conclude that Q. You note that actually Q doesn't follow from P. You wonder what could I have been thinking? You note that you believe that R and that if R were cojoined with P, Q follows. (Also R is on the tip of your brain, so to speak.) So you attribute to yourself an quasi-enthymemetic inference: my belief that R must have played a premise-like role in getting me to think that Q.

Candidates for cases of directly perceptual judgments run the danger of also being cases of quasi-enthymemetic judgment. Where there are rational gaps there is reason to suppose that quasi-enthymemetic judgment has occurred. [We are finite creatures, of course, and so that is not always true: there are going to transitions we simply make, but I am prepared to argue that we are not yet at the bottom of rationalizing explanation].

If what you judge has the same content as your experience, then there will be no pressure to postulate a quasi-enthymemetic inference. But there is abundant reason to suppose that there are deep semantic differences between experiences and judgments. Judgments are conceptual, while experiences are not. Judgments are content-wise precise while experiences are not. (I can judge of one thing and a single property that it bears that property, while the same is not true of experience. Experience always represents a hugely open-ended plenitude of properties and a large number of individuals.) etc.

So there is abundant reason to think that transitions from experience to judgment are always semantic leaps. So there is abundant reason to suppose that transitions from experience to judgment are rational leaps.

Consideration of content aside, judgment is answerable to the whole of our beliefs, while experience isn't (because (i) it ain't agential and (ii) anyway it is immune to the authority of belief). So I am ready, when I judge on the basis of my experience, to reject my experience: to look again, more closely, to rub my eyes, etc. In the case of illusions, all I can do is refuse to believe. Anyway, this readiness to reject suggests two things: first, that the transition from experience to judgment is by itself a rational leap; second, that the transition from experience to judgment is plausibly subject to non-conscious monitoring. When I do judge on the basis of my experience it will be because I have accepted that, at least in this case, things are likely to be as they appear.

Summing up: since there is reason to suppose that transitions from experience to judgment are always risky, and anyway, always under the supervision of the tribune of our belief set, there is reason to suppose that these transitions are quasi-enthymemetic and so not formed on the basis of experience alone.

There is more to be said, of course. I have not addressed much of what Pugsley had to say and have, I am certain, created more problems for myself. But Sunday is short and the guilt of not dissertating is catching up.

Friday, April 22, 2005

It Ain't Robots (But still...)

Check out this bit of science news for some inspiration.

Welcome to the future: for your comfort, we will soon be placing you in suspended animation for the duration of the flight to Jupiter. Please put the mask over your mouth and nose and breath normally.

"By using a small amount of hydrogen sulfide gas [, researchers put] mice into a state of hibernation for six hours. ...Overall, their metabolic rate dropped by 90 percent -- meaning normal cellular activity slowed to almost a standstill, thus reducing the need for oxygen. ...Fresh air revived the mice, and testing uncovered no differences in behavior or functional ability between the treated mice and untreated ones, the study concluded."

This looks like garage-ready science. I think I might try to put my housemate into hibernation. I just need a tank of oxygen, a tank of hydrogen sulfide, and some anesthesiology equipment. Come over next Thursday for a demonstration! We'll have drinks and once ___ is in a state of hibernation, put him into funny manikin poses. It'll be a blast.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Skepticism About Deliberation Part 1

Poor Shawn. I think I suggested (OK "promised" might be a better word) that I would say something about equal protection clauses and their import. So Shawn -- a Michigan-trained lawyer -- was sharpening her knives in preparation for shredding what naive things I would say on the topic. Sadly, she won't get to use them on me. I won't be posting on equal protection. Life is short, the law is long, and I have very tender skin. On the other hand, now she has a nice shiny set of razor-sharp blades to use on someone else.

That aside: Here is a perennially interesting thing: deduction. I have long been interested in gaps in thought, in ways our cognitive lives are gappy (in a sense to be explained). Some gaps in our cognitive lives are boring. For example: I zoned out this afternoon while I was "writing" my dissertation. Nothing happened mentally for, like, five minutes. Some gaps, however, are pregnant gaps: gaps that are nonetheless part of our mental lives. These are interesting gaps because you might wonder in what sense such gaps are part of our personal mental lives.

Maybe you'll get the idea when I turn to the topic at hand, inferencing. Here is a sequence of thoughts:

I like aged Gouda.
That is an aged Gouda.
If I like an aged Gouda, I should take it.
I shall take the aged Gouda.

A moment later, after the sequence of thoughts, I took the cheese and split. Zingermann's never knew what hit them. Silly, slow hippies! Now I have 5 pounds of aged Gouda and they don't. Thank you deduction!

I acted for reasons -- my preference for aged Gouda, the availability of aged Gouda -- I also acted on account of having reasoned a certain way -- having reasoned on the basis of my reasons. Part of the explanation/justification for my action is not just that I had certain preferences and made certain judgments, but also that those got together in such a way as to yield a conclusion about what to do. The got together in an inferential way. So if you ask "why did you take the cheese?", one thing I can do to answer your question is note that taking the cheese was the upshot of some reasoning.

But their getting together in an inferential way is a gappy matter: my having inferred is not witnessed in some thought-like occurrence in my mind. My having inferred seems to have been a matter, rather, of transitions between thoughts.

Sometimes (it is true) transitions between thoughts are accompanied by conscious markers of inference-making. I might, for example, have thought So, as a consequence of all of that, I shall take the aged Gouda. But this does not always happen when we draw inferences and anyway, even if it does, my having inferred does not consist in the occurrence of such conscious inference-markers.

On some wacky philosopher's whim, I might decide to free associate about aged Gouda (doesn't matter what thoughts I think so long as they are Gouda-related).

Here is one possible result of that whim:

I like aged Gouda.
That is an aged Gouda.
If I like an aged Gouda, I should take it.
So, as a consequence, I shall take the aged Gouda.

In such a case, I may very well not have performed a deduction. The last thought might merely have been the last in a sequence of Gouda-related thoughts. Any Gouda-related thought would have done as well, for example the negation of the last thought.

What would explain how two intrinsically identical sequences of thought might differ such that one is a chain of reasoning and the other is not?

Hypothesis: different answers to this question will tend to make it difficult to understand how one knows one is reasoning rather than merely entertaining sequences of thought. There are similar worries about rational agency: if rationality rests in the gaps, then how is it me who reasons? It might be most fruitful to pursue these questions via a kind of skeptical worry: maybe I don't have justification for supposing that I've been reasoning! Maybe I never once reasoned in my life! You're no better off, either.

This post might sound like procrastination in action. Indeed, the clock is ticking loudly in my ear and this is not quite my dissertation. But it turns out that there are interesting connections to the theory of perception. One mainstream constraint on theories of perception and perceptual experience is that they provide the basis for a theory of direct perceptual judgment: judgment made solely on the basis of perceptual experience. That a judgment be a direct perceptual judgment is a matter of its being non-inferential. But answers to the primary question (what is it to infer?) are, likely, going to make it hard to maintain the existence of such a category of judgment.

Also, it is my hunch, answers to the question of what counts as an inference will get us into wacky kripkenstenian waters: fraught with rational idealizations, interpretivism, normativity, principles of charity, and the like. Wacky is good, though. So, I conclude, my excitement is justified.

More later.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Batter my heart, three-person'd God...

So I was re-reading Phillip K. Dick's The Transmigration of Timothy Archer and came across this little gem of a poem. Normally, to be honest, I skip any poem I see in a novel (like I tend to skip formalizations), but I was sleepy and kept reading. It turns out to be a Phantastickal poem.



HOLY SONNETS.


XIV.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

-John Donne

Quite something, eh? "That I may rise, and stand, overthrow me, and bend your force to break blow, burn, and make me new. ...I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free. Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me." ...Super sweet.

I wonder if the rest of the sonnets are similarly good...

PS: The Transmigration of Timothy Archeris probably Dick's best. Like all of his best novels, it is set in Berkeley in the late 70s/early 80s among the detritus of the failed 1960s. It is amusingly cracked -- full of madness and fringe religion. Unlike, say, Neil Stephenson, the madness is not presented in the spirit of fun high-jinx, but, rather, as simultaneously tragically fated and intelligibly alluring. The novel, rather nicely, swings between presenting the wackiness as madness and as fictionally true. Also he manages to have his characteristic shortcomings as an author (crack-pot-ism coupled with intellectual pretentions) come across as flaws in the narrator and not as flaws in his style.

You should read it right now, especially if you're in the mood for a novel about death and suffering. With the spring weather, we all need to nip any dawning optimism with realistic gloom.