سميح القاسم المد يــر العـام *****
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عدد الرسائل : 3149
تعاليق : شخصيا أختلف مع من يدعي أن البشر على عقل واحد وقدرة واحدة ..
أعتقد أن هناك تمايز أوجدته الطبيعة ، وكرسه الفعل البشري اليومي , والا ما معنى أن يكون الواحد منا متفوقا لدرجة الخيال في حين أن الآخر يكافح لينجو ..
هناك تمايز لابد من اقراره أحببنا ذلك أم كرهنا ، وبفضل هذا التمايز وصلنا الى ما وصلنا اليه والا لكنا كباقي الحيونات لازلنا نعتمد الصيد والالتقاط ونحفر كهوف ومغارات للاختباء تاريخ التسجيل : 05/10/2009 وســــــــــام النشــــــــــــــاط : 10
| | The Problem of Philosophy | |
I The question of the scope of human knowledge has been a longstanding preoccupation of philosophy. And that question has always had a special intensity where philosophical knowledge itself is concerned. A certain anxiety about the nature and possibility of such knowledge is endemic to the subject. The suspicion is that, in trying to do philosophy, we run up against the limits of our understanding in some deep way. Ignorance seems the natural condition of philosophical endeavour, contributing both to the charm and the frustration of the discipline (if that is the right word). Thus a tenacious tradition, cutting across the usual division between empiricists and rationalists, accepts (i) that there are nontrivial limits to our epistemic capacities and (ii) that these limits stem, at least in part, from the internal organisation of the knowing mind - its constitutive structure - as distinct from limits that result from our contingent position in the world. It is not merely that we are a tiny speck in a vast cosmos; that speck also has its own specific cognitive orientation, its own distinctive architecture. The human mind conforms to certain principles in forming concepts and beliefs and theories, originally given, and these constrain the range of knowledge to which we have access. We cannot get beyond the specific kinds of data and modes of inference that characterise our knowledge- acquiring systems - however paltry these may be. The question has been, not whether this is correct as a general thesis, but rather what the operative principles are, and where their limits fall. How limited are we, and what explains the extent and quality of our limits? Can we, indeed, come to understand the workings of our own epistemic capacities? Hence the enquiries of Descartes, Locke, Leibniz, Hume, Kant, Peirce, Russell, and many others.The most recent major theorist in this tradition, and perhaps the most explicit, is Chomsky.(1) According to him, the mind is a biologically given system, organised into discrete (though interacting) subsystems or modules, which function as special-purpose cognitive devices, variously structured and scheduled, and which confer certain epistemic powers and limits on their possessors. The language faculty is one such module: innately based and specifically structured, it comes into operation early in human life and permits the acquisition, or emergence, of an intricate cognitive system in a spectacularly short time - this being made possible by the antecedent presence of the principles of universal grammar in its initial design. As Chomsky observes, the knowledge so generated is no simpler, by any plausible objective standard, than knowledge of advanced mathematics or physics; but the human mind is so adapted that it yields this knowledge with comparative ease - somewhat as we effortlessly develop a complex physiological structure in a pre- programmed way. (Compare the ease with which our visual system converts two-dimensional arrays into three-dimensional percepts, but the difficulty we have in making even simple two-dimensional drawings on the basis of our three- dimensional visual experience.) As a corollary, however, this faculty is poorly adapted to picking up conceivable languages distinct in grammatical structure from that characteristic of human speech. Its strength is thus also its weakness; in fact, it could not be strong in one way without being weak in another.With language as his model case Chomsky develops a general conception of human intelligence which includes the idea of endogenously fixed cognitive limits even for conscious reason. Here, too, the price of ready success in some domains is fumbling or failure in others. He says:'The human mind is a biologically given system with certain powers and limits. As Charles Sanders Peirce argued, "Man's mind has a natural adaptation to imagining correct theories of some kinds....If man had not the gift of a mind adapted to his requirements, he could not have acquired any knowledge". The fact that "admissible hypotheses" are available to this specific biological system accounts for its ability to construct rich and complex explanatory theories. But the same properties of mind that provide admissible hypotheses may well exclude other successful theories as unintelligible to humans. Some theories might simply not be among the admissible hypotheses determined by the specific properties of mind that adapt us "to imagining theories of some kinds," though these theories might be accessible to a differently organised intelligence. Or these theories might be so remote in an accessibility ordering of admissible hypotheses that they cannot be constructed under actual empirical conditions, though for a differently structured mind they might be easily accessible.'(2) Among the theories that he thinks may not be accessible to human intelligence, in virtue of its specific slant, Chomsky includes the correct theory of free creative action, particularly the ordinary use of language. We seem able to develop adequate theories of linguistic competence, i.e. grammars, but when it comes to actual performance our theoretical insights are meagre or nonexistent. And this is a reflection of the contingencies of our theoretical capacities, rather than an indication of objective intransigence.Now much could be said in explication and defence of Chomsky's general position, but that is not my purpose here. I wish to start from something like his general perspective and explore some questions seemingly at some distance from Chomskyan concerns: in particular, I want to ask whether the phenomenon of philosophical perplexity might be a consequence of the kind of constitutive cognitive inaccessibility of which he speaks. Is the hardness of philosophy a result of cognitive bias? Might our difficulties here be a side-effect of our adeptness in other areas? Where does the felt profundity of philosophical questions come from? But first I shall have to make some further general remarks about the idea of cognitive limitation; for we will not be in a position to approach my main question unless we have properly taken the idea of cognitive limitation to heart.(3)First, it is easy to see that comparable limitation theses hold with respect to other aspects of our mental life. We cannot experience every possible type of sensation, nor every emotion; neither can we desire everything that might conceivably be desired. Differently constituted minds from ours might well enjoy a different range of phenomenal, affective and conative states. There are also sensory thresholds of various kinds which fix the bounds of our perceptual acuities, and which can vary across perceivers, as well as obvious restrictions on our memory capacities and reasoning power. These limits are not in any way dictated by objective phenomena but stem rather from our species- specific endowments. They give us a particular psychological profile, not necessarily shared by other species, actual or possible. Indeed, it is hard to know what it would be like for a psychological being not to have limitations of these kinds, since such limitations are a direct consequence of having any determinate psychology at all.(4)Second, we should distinguish between two potential sources or loci of cognitive limitation: one relating to the content of our mental representations, the other to the specific character of the operational system within which those contents occur. That is, there is the question of what range of concepts we can in principle deploy in our thought; and there is the separate question of the processing principles and architecture of the system that contains these concepts. Even with unlimited access to concepts, a system might be confined by what it can do with them - say, because of attentional or memory limitations. And a system might be quite impoverished conceptually but be capable of amazing feats of processing and deployment. So when considering whether a certain cognitive system is capable of a given task we need to ask both whether it can acquire mastery of the relevant concepts and whether it has the organisational resources to put these concepts to work in the necessary way. One live possibility is that the mind is not notably lacking at the level of individual concepts but that it lacks the capacity to combine these into systematic explanatory theories of some given class.Third, if there are the kinds of cognitive predisposition Chomsky suggests, then we should be on the look-out for tendencies to mislocate the source of our epistemic triumphs and failures. Since the limits imposed by our mental organisation are not guaranteed to present themselves as such, we may find ourselves attributing blame to the wrong thing: we may assume that what comes easy to us is (intrinsically) easy, and that what comes hard is somehow objectively recalcitrant. Thus we might be forgiven for supposing, mistakenly, that grammar is objectively simple compared to (say) relativity theory; but, rightly considered, this is a projective fallacy, borne of our peculiar endowments and correctible by an impartial examination of the structure of the systems of knowledge in question. The ease of accessibility of a knowledge system to our cognitive capacities is no measure of its internal complexity or subtlety or profundity - still less of the ontological fibrillations proper to the subject-matter of the system. Indeed, it is unclear, ultimately, whether there is any (useful) notion of simplicity or complexity that is quite unrelativised to the specific aptitudes of a selected cognitive faculty. That reason is flummoxed by a certain class of problems is thus no proof that those problems possess any inherent refractoriness, nor that there are no other conceivable epistemic systems that might take these problems in stride.It may be thought that the existence of nontrivial epistemic limits is a peculiarity of a particular philosophical tradition and that other viewpoints will have less restrictive consequences. Let me then dispel this impression by surveying briefly some standard theories (or theory-sketches) about the nature of thought; we shall see that limits are actually the norm, at any rate by implication. In fact, one of the recurrent faults of the usual theories is that they tend to delimit our conceptual powers too narrowly. In any case, it is hard to see how any substantive theory of concepts could avoid imposing some limits on concept possession, since certain constitutive conditions will have to be laid down - and hence not necessarily be satisfied. And the more substantive the theory is the clearer the limits are apt to become; only vacuous theories give the impression of boundlessness - as if concepts were entirely weightless and shapeless beings. It might help in counteracting this subliming tendency (as Wittgenstein called it) to consider nonhuman thinkers, like dogs and dolphins, when reviewing the theories on offer; for deification comes harder in their case than for our own superlative species - at least for us. Here the idea of cognitive limits seems only right and proper.(5)Three broad types of theory can be distinguished: sensory, behavioural, external. By sensory theories I mean those that base concepts on the contents of perceptual experience - Locke and Hume being the usual suspects. When concepts are construed in this way they are clearly, as those two were keen to stress, constrained by the sensory powers of the creature in question; they are just the traces left by the activity of the sense organs on the memory faculty. Abstraction and association may enlarge the mind's stock of sense-based representations, but concepts of the strictly nonsensory are ruled out. The key tenet of empiricism, indeed, is just that thought cannot transcend the experiential (hence the impossibility of metaphysics, according to the positivism that sprang from these empiricist principles.) It is not, then, just the rationalist tradition, with its emphasis on rich innate structure, that issues in restrictions on thinkability; in fact, in its very cognitive sparingness, empiricism imposes even more pronounced limits than rationalism. The acuity and scope of the senses is the measure of conceptual power, and where creatures differ in their sensory equipment they must also differ in what they can think.Behaviour-based theories also impose limits, at least under pretty unavoidable assumptions. The central point is simply that behavioural theories tie concepts to the bodily repertoire of the thinker and bodies have determinate structure and powers, varying from one kind to the next. Behaving bodies are natural objects in the world, finite and bounded, with limited histories and sets of dispositions. An organism's bodily characteristics fix the nature of the inputs and outputs it can handle, but these are bound to be restricted by the facts of anatomy and physiology. If concepts are to consist in the motion of bodies, then the natural limits on motor capacities become the limits of concept possession. A vivid (if controversial) illustration of the kinds of limits that can result from behavioural theories is provided by Quine's indeterminacy thesis.(6) If concepts come down to dispositions to assent to sentences in specific stimulus conditions, then (i) theoretical concepts lapse into radical indeterminacy and (ii) we cannot expect to distinguish concepts that apply under the same conditions of stimulation - as with those rabbits and their undetached parts. Concepts have content, for Quine, only in so far as they are keyed to discrete dispositions to assent, but then any putative concepts not so keyed turn out to be either cognitively inaccessible or plain impossible - despite the reality of the properties they purport to represent. Much the same can be said of Dummett-style 'manifestation' requirements on meaning, which cannot make room for any concepts that call for a 'realist' interpretation.(7) The requirement of an effective mapping from concept to behavioural capacity confines concepts to the causal powers of the body in question. Functionalist theories have much the same upshot, since the causal role of an internal state clearly depends upon the contingent make-up of the organism; and if a body fails to provide a basis for some role then the corresponding concept will not be available to the creature whose body it is. Since, presumably, human bodies (say) do not instantiate every logically possible causal role, there are bound to be concepts that are not open to us (given that every such role corresponds to a potential concept). Just as functionalist theories impose limits on the sensations a creature may possess, so they impose limits on its conceptual powers. And so it is with any theory that equates concepts with dispositions of the body. Even Wittgenstein's much more relaxed emphasis on the connexion between meaning and acting has limitative consequences, which he did not forswear.Third, there are externalist theories that see content as fixed by head/world relations: causal, nomic, teleological and so forth.(8) Take, as representative, the simple idea that the concepts you have are determined by your history of environmental elicitations. Then your concepts will be limited both by the nature of the impinging environment and by the capacity of your sensory transducers to respond to what is offered up to them (what you can 'interact' with). According to some theories, you simply cannot have concepts for things you have not had causal commerce with - for example, natural kinds whose instances you have not encountered. At the extreme of causal isolation, as with the brain in a vat, you cannot even have concepts of the ordinary perceptible world.(9) Similarly, if we are now not suitably hooked up to some part or aspect of the objective world, then we we will not be able to form representations of that part or aspect. The danger in theories of these kinds is actually that they impose unreasonably restrictive conditions on concept possession, underestimating the creative resources of the mind; they certainly do not allow untrammelled conceptual access by sheer effort of will.It is not that I think any of these theories of concepts is really adequate; my point is just that it is not merely an eccentricity of the tradition in which Chomsky locates himself that thought should be subject to significant limits. This is implicit even in theories that are not advanced with this kind of issue in mind; and, as I remarked, it is hard to see how a theory could be both substantive and free of limitative consequences. For what could a concept consist in that was not in some way bound by inherently variable and potentially absent facts? Certainly, it is scarcely plausible that every logically possible concept should be necessarily accessible by any mind capable of grasping some concept or other. Only a kind of mystical thinking about concepts could occlude recognition of the virtual truism that someone might be able to think some things without being able to think all things. (Compare the question whether humans possess every conceivable motor skill in virtue of possessing some.) | |
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