I am pursued, watched.
Eyes from every direction, corner, and shadow.
Their form becomes less and less apparent,
As the night crawls on.
Their claws drag across my brain.
They surpress my waking hours,
And keep me in their sleep.
I am weak, and they smell
My spirit bleeding; my heart pleading.
They now know they have me
And I fold in on myself.
I fold in; my arms, my legs, my hands;
Fold in.
The anguish of the pressure;
Turned inside out.
And I am where they are.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Fear
In wastelands of war, when times of triumph
Have fallen far past horizonal view.
Treading upon the mangled ruin
Of a city once mine, now raised to the ground.
Who could've seen where this road would lead?
Who could've sensed the end drawing near?
Who could've known when to be silent, to speak?
Under the purview of all, comes thundering fear.
Have fallen far past horizonal view.
Treading upon the mangled ruin
Of a city once mine, now raised to the ground.
Who could've seen where this road would lead?
Who could've sensed the end drawing near?
Who could've known when to be silent, to speak?
Under the purview of all, comes thundering fear.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Aristotle's 'Metaphysics', Book I, Chp. VI
The selection from the Metaphysics I'm working through skips to chapter 6 after chapter 3, so that's where I'll pick up.
At the beginning of chapter 6 Aristotle makes some contextual/historical points about Plato's philosophy. He first notes that Plato was heavily influenced by the Pythagoreans (the Italian school of philosophy founded by Pythagoras), and by Heraclitus. The Pythagorean influence, Aristotle says, can be seen in Plato's talk of sensible objects "participating" in Forms, just as the Pythagorean school talked of sensible objects "imitating" numbers. He also notes that, just as the Pythagoreans, Plato neglected to ever explain what exactly this relation of "participation" is or entails. The influence of Heraclitus on Plato can be seen in Plato's adoption of Heraclitus' doctrine that "the world (of the senses) is in flux" (think of the classic "you can't step in the same river twice" mantra). Because of this, Heraclitus, and Plato after him, reasoned that you could never have reliable knowledge concerning it.
Next Aristotle begins to actually dig in to Plato's philosophy itself. The first claim is that Plato's ontology essentially boils down to two categories: The "one", and the "great and the small". Here's where, I confess, it started to get tricky for me. I tried to consult Aquinas' commentary on this section, but it didn't end up helping too much (a failing on my part, not Tom's, assuredly). Regardless, the best interpretation I could come up with was something like the following: The "one" in Plato's ontology is the essence of the forms. That is, part of what makes forms (or universals) what they are is that there is only one of each form (although there are multiple instances, or tokens, of those forms). "The great and the small", then, is a term that expresses the essence of particulars. Particulars are, by nature, many. So, for instance, there can be multiple dogs (particular substances), but only one form of Dogness (the eternal form that individuates them).
A third category in Plato's ontology that is briefly discussed is the category of numbers. For Plato, it seems numbers constitute a sort of pseudo-ontological category. They represent (or are generated by) the relation between the "one" and the "great and the small". The individuality (or "oneness") of numbers is found in the forms, whereas their heirarchal structure (construed as a "greater-than" relation) is found in the "great and small" category. ...All that probably seems very convoluted, and for that I apologize. It was, once again, the best interpretation I could grasp with my own lights.
Now Aristotle begins his critique of the Theory of Forms which he will continue on into chapter 9. His first critique is this. Plato says that forms are essentially one, and that particulars are what they are in virtue of their participating in forms. But how can there be only one form per attribute if multiple particulars instantiate them? If Form individuates material substance, then there must be two forms everytime an object acquires its quiddity (this is because form is a constituent of substance for Aristotle).
His next critique is that Plato's theory only addresses the material and formal causes of things. But he neglects, say, their efficient (moving) causes. The Forms only make things what they are in an individuating sense, but they have no power to be the source of the movement that makes some object x an F and then a G. For this, a thing's efficient cause must be invoked.
At the beginning of chapter 6 Aristotle makes some contextual/historical points about Plato's philosophy. He first notes that Plato was heavily influenced by the Pythagoreans (the Italian school of philosophy founded by Pythagoras), and by Heraclitus. The Pythagorean influence, Aristotle says, can be seen in Plato's talk of sensible objects "participating" in Forms, just as the Pythagorean school talked of sensible objects "imitating" numbers. He also notes that, just as the Pythagoreans, Plato neglected to ever explain what exactly this relation of "participation" is or entails. The influence of Heraclitus on Plato can be seen in Plato's adoption of Heraclitus' doctrine that "the world (of the senses) is in flux" (think of the classic "you can't step in the same river twice" mantra). Because of this, Heraclitus, and Plato after him, reasoned that you could never have reliable knowledge concerning it.
Next Aristotle begins to actually dig in to Plato's philosophy itself. The first claim is that Plato's ontology essentially boils down to two categories: The "one", and the "great and the small". Here's where, I confess, it started to get tricky for me. I tried to consult Aquinas' commentary on this section, but it didn't end up helping too much (a failing on my part, not Tom's, assuredly). Regardless, the best interpretation I could come up with was something like the following: The "one" in Plato's ontology is the essence of the forms. That is, part of what makes forms (or universals) what they are is that there is only one of each form (although there are multiple instances, or tokens, of those forms). "The great and the small", then, is a term that expresses the essence of particulars. Particulars are, by nature, many. So, for instance, there can be multiple dogs (particular substances), but only one form of Dogness (the eternal form that individuates them).
A third category in Plato's ontology that is briefly discussed is the category of numbers. For Plato, it seems numbers constitute a sort of pseudo-ontological category. They represent (or are generated by) the relation between the "one" and the "great and the small". The individuality (or "oneness") of numbers is found in the forms, whereas their heirarchal structure (construed as a "greater-than" relation) is found in the "great and small" category. ...All that probably seems very convoluted, and for that I apologize. It was, once again, the best interpretation I could grasp with my own lights.
Now Aristotle begins his critique of the Theory of Forms which he will continue on into chapter 9. His first critique is this. Plato says that forms are essentially one, and that particulars are what they are in virtue of their participating in forms. But how can there be only one form per attribute if multiple particulars instantiate them? If Form individuates material substance, then there must be two forms everytime an object acquires its quiddity (this is because form is a constituent of substance for Aristotle).
His next critique is that Plato's theory only addresses the material and formal causes of things. But he neglects, say, their efficient (moving) causes. The Forms only make things what they are in an individuating sense, but they have no power to be the source of the movement that makes some object x an F and then a G. For this, a thing's efficient cause must be invoked.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Aristotle's 'Metaphysics', Book I, Chp. III
Aristotle begins this chapter with a brief explanation of what he takes to be the four first principles, or causes, of all that exists. The first is a thing's "being or essence" (formal cause), the second a thing's "matter and substratum" (material cause), the third a thing's "source of movement" (efficient cause), and the fourth is a thing's "purpose...and it's good" (final cause). After this brief explanation, Aristotle goes on to explore what philosophers of the past have thought about the first causes of things.
These philosophers seemed only to be concerned with the material cause of things (what they were made of). Most viewed reality simply in these terms: There is one underlying substance of reality, and that substance merely takes on different "affections". Or, even if there were multiple basic substances postulated, all that exists consisted merely in those substances and the various accidential properties they took on. Thus, there was no true coming into and out of being, but merely formal changes in one, or several, essential substances.
The first example of this thinking given is Thales. Thales believed that the underlying substratum of reality consisted in water. The reasons he gave for this were (1) Everything is nourished by water, and (2) the "seeds" of all things are moist. Aristotle notes that this is something the ancients seemed to believe. The ancients said that the parents of "all that has come into being" were Oceanus and Tethys (sea gods and goddesses). In addition, they swore by the river Styx.
Following Thales, there was Anaximenes and Diogenes, who believed air to be the first principle; Hippasus and Heraclitus, who believed it to be fire; Empedocles, who thought there were the four first principles of water, air, fire, and earth; and, finally, Anaxagoras who believed that there were an infinite number of first causes.
Finally, Aristotle critiques what he takes to be the mistakes made by these metaphysicians of bygone days. He essentially says that just because you have explained the material cause (that out of which it is made) of something, doesn't mean you've explained it's efficient cause (the cause of the thing's movement). As he says, "Certainly the substratum does not cause itself to change". Some, to avoid this issue, said that the whole of nature is itself immovable, and that all change is really an illusion (Parmenides would be an example of this). Aristotle, believing that change is real, says that those who believed in several first principles (such as Empedocles), could make more sense of movement. This is because they could claim that it be the nature of one substance (say, fire) to move things, and another (say, air) to be that out of which things are made.
His last comment is that those, such as Anaxagoras, who believed that nature contained Mind (or Nous), were far more rational than those who did not. The reason he gives for this is that Mind could function as the efficient cause of the world's movement and change, and could also be the cause of things attaining to their purpose or good (achieving their "final cause"). This, then, concludes Aristotle's survey of the strengths and weaknesses of his predecessors.
These philosophers seemed only to be concerned with the material cause of things (what they were made of). Most viewed reality simply in these terms: There is one underlying substance of reality, and that substance merely takes on different "affections". Or, even if there were multiple basic substances postulated, all that exists consisted merely in those substances and the various accidential properties they took on. Thus, there was no true coming into and out of being, but merely formal changes in one, or several, essential substances.
The first example of this thinking given is Thales. Thales believed that the underlying substratum of reality consisted in water. The reasons he gave for this were (1) Everything is nourished by water, and (2) the "seeds" of all things are moist. Aristotle notes that this is something the ancients seemed to believe. The ancients said that the parents of "all that has come into being" were Oceanus and Tethys (sea gods and goddesses). In addition, they swore by the river Styx.
Following Thales, there was Anaximenes and Diogenes, who believed air to be the first principle; Hippasus and Heraclitus, who believed it to be fire; Empedocles, who thought there were the four first principles of water, air, fire, and earth; and, finally, Anaxagoras who believed that there were an infinite number of first causes.
Finally, Aristotle critiques what he takes to be the mistakes made by these metaphysicians of bygone days. He essentially says that just because you have explained the material cause (that out of which it is made) of something, doesn't mean you've explained it's efficient cause (the cause of the thing's movement). As he says, "Certainly the substratum does not cause itself to change". Some, to avoid this issue, said that the whole of nature is itself immovable, and that all change is really an illusion (Parmenides would be an example of this). Aristotle, believing that change is real, says that those who believed in several first principles (such as Empedocles), could make more sense of movement. This is because they could claim that it be the nature of one substance (say, fire) to move things, and another (say, air) to be that out of which things are made.
His last comment is that those, such as Anaxagoras, who believed that nature contained Mind (or Nous), were far more rational than those who did not. The reason he gives for this is that Mind could function as the efficient cause of the world's movement and change, and could also be the cause of things attaining to their purpose or good (achieving their "final cause"). This, then, concludes Aristotle's survey of the strengths and weaknesses of his predecessors.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Aristotle's 'Metaphysics', Book I, Chp. II
In chapter 2 of Book I of the Metaphysics, Aristotle proceeds to explain that the science we're about to inquire into is this "knowledge for it's own sake" that he talked about in chapter 1. To get at just what this science is, he thinks it best to take a look at our "notions of the wise man" (since the "wise man" is the person who desires and acquires knowledge for its own sake, as described in the first chapter).
The first point Aristotle makes in this regard is that the wise man is someone who we take to "know everything". The wise man knows everything in the sense that he knows about ultimate causes and first principles; e.g. those universals which contain all the particulars which they describe. An example of this might be, say, knowing the set of all and only round objects. To know this set (the set in this case functioning as the "universal"), is to know it's individual members (each member functioning as the "particular"). And thus it is that knowledge of universals necessarily entails a knowledge of those particulars which instantiate them. As Aristotle says, "...knowledge of everything necessarily belongs to the man who more than any other has knowledge of universals, since such a man knows in a way all the individuals that are included in them".
His next point about the wise man is that we take him to know the things which are the most difficult to fully know. Aristotle says that these first principles and causes are the most difficult to know because they are furthest removed from the senses (which in themselves only give us knowledge of particulars). The assumption here is, of course, that all our knowledge first arises from the senses (Aristotle being a sort of proto-empiricist).
The third point to be made about the wise man is that we generally take him to be wise, in part, because he is the "most accurate". What he means by this is, I think, that an accurate description of any object or set of objects will only be so if it discusses their ultimate causes. He also makes the point that a science is more accurate the fewer principles it has (to illustrate this he gives the example of arithmetic being more accurate than geometry). I assume his point is something along these lines: That the more first principles, or axioms, a science takes for granted, the more likely it is to be inaccurate (I assume he's making some sort of epistemic point here, but I'm not sure). An interesting thought, I think, is that this could be a prescursor to a principle like Ockham's Razor.
Next, he makes the point that the person who desires knowledge for its own sake will have knowledge of what is "most knowable". What Aristotle means by this is that the most knowable things are those which we must assume for all other knowledge. It follows that knowledge of the most general causes and principles of the world, because they allow us to understand the less general and more specific, are "most knowable" in the sense Aristotle is using the term.
The wise man, also, will be the one who is best at giving instructions (since, as Aristotle says, the wise man should give instruction and should be instructed by no one). He says that the wise man will be best at giving instruction, even in practical matters, because of his knowledge of causes and first principles. His argument is something like this: To know the ultimate cause of something is to know its nature, to know its nature is to know its end or purpose, and to know somethings end or purpose (or its "good") is to render one capable of instructing others as to how to achieve that things end or purpose.
Aristotle ends the chapter with a discussion of the essence of philosophy. That essence, he says, is essentially unproductive. He identifies the science of "first causes and principles" with philosophy itself, or at least its summit (that being, I assume, the project of metaphysics). This fact, though, he does not take to be a defect of the project. He portrays the science as wondrous and divine. He says, "...even a man who is fond of myths is in a way a philosopher, since a myth is made up of wonders", and "...just as a free man is one who exists for his own sake and not for anyone else's, so we study this science as the only one that is free, since it is the only one that is studied for its own sake". Because it is man's nature to be in a sense enslaved, and God's nature to be essentially free, Aristotle portrays doing philosophy as "more than human", and indeed divine. He says that this science is divine on two accounts: First, the science of first causes and principles would be most fully possessed by God himself, since he is the ultimate source of cause and principle. Also, being the source of cause and principle, God himself would be the ultimate end of such a study.
The first point Aristotle makes in this regard is that the wise man is someone who we take to "know everything". The wise man knows everything in the sense that he knows about ultimate causes and first principles; e.g. those universals which contain all the particulars which they describe. An example of this might be, say, knowing the set of all and only round objects. To know this set (the set in this case functioning as the "universal"), is to know it's individual members (each member functioning as the "particular"). And thus it is that knowledge of universals necessarily entails a knowledge of those particulars which instantiate them. As Aristotle says, "...knowledge of everything necessarily belongs to the man who more than any other has knowledge of universals, since such a man knows in a way all the individuals that are included in them".
His next point about the wise man is that we take him to know the things which are the most difficult to fully know. Aristotle says that these first principles and causes are the most difficult to know because they are furthest removed from the senses (which in themselves only give us knowledge of particulars). The assumption here is, of course, that all our knowledge first arises from the senses (Aristotle being a sort of proto-empiricist).
The third point to be made about the wise man is that we generally take him to be wise, in part, because he is the "most accurate". What he means by this is, I think, that an accurate description of any object or set of objects will only be so if it discusses their ultimate causes. He also makes the point that a science is more accurate the fewer principles it has (to illustrate this he gives the example of arithmetic being more accurate than geometry). I assume his point is something along these lines: That the more first principles, or axioms, a science takes for granted, the more likely it is to be inaccurate (I assume he's making some sort of epistemic point here, but I'm not sure). An interesting thought, I think, is that this could be a prescursor to a principle like Ockham's Razor.
Next, he makes the point that the person who desires knowledge for its own sake will have knowledge of what is "most knowable". What Aristotle means by this is that the most knowable things are those which we must assume for all other knowledge. It follows that knowledge of the most general causes and principles of the world, because they allow us to understand the less general and more specific, are "most knowable" in the sense Aristotle is using the term.
The wise man, also, will be the one who is best at giving instructions (since, as Aristotle says, the wise man should give instruction and should be instructed by no one). He says that the wise man will be best at giving instruction, even in practical matters, because of his knowledge of causes and first principles. His argument is something like this: To know the ultimate cause of something is to know its nature, to know its nature is to know its end or purpose, and to know somethings end or purpose (or its "good") is to render one capable of instructing others as to how to achieve that things end or purpose.
Aristotle ends the chapter with a discussion of the essence of philosophy. That essence, he says, is essentially unproductive. He identifies the science of "first causes and principles" with philosophy itself, or at least its summit (that being, I assume, the project of metaphysics). This fact, though, he does not take to be a defect of the project. He portrays the science as wondrous and divine. He says, "...even a man who is fond of myths is in a way a philosopher, since a myth is made up of wonders", and "...just as a free man is one who exists for his own sake and not for anyone else's, so we study this science as the only one that is free, since it is the only one that is studied for its own sake". Because it is man's nature to be in a sense enslaved, and God's nature to be essentially free, Aristotle portrays doing philosophy as "more than human", and indeed divine. He says that this science is divine on two accounts: First, the science of first causes and principles would be most fully possessed by God himself, since he is the ultimate source of cause and principle. Also, being the source of cause and principle, God himself would be the ultimate end of such a study.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Aristotle's 'Metaphysics', Book I, Chp. I
I've begun to work through several key sections of Aristotle's Metaphysics. Not so much for the sake of getting any unique thoughts out, or for the sake of readers, but more for the sake of retaining the information myself, I've decided to record some of the key points as blog entries. So, here goes.
Book I, Chp. I of the Metaphysics seems to be constructed to argue for the following conclusion: That all men, by nature, desire to know (as he says in the first sentence of the work). In favor of this conclusion, as I see it, he offers (roughly) the following three justifications: (1) The pleasure we take in our senses, (2) the end for which our cognitive faculties seem to be constructed, and (3) the fact that the human race exalts knowledge for it's own sake as being the truest sort of wisdom.
In defense of (1) Aristotle notes that we enjoy our senses, and especially sight, for their own sake. That is, even when we're not planning on using any of our senses for a particular practical end, we would still prefer to have them "up and running", so to say. Aristotle implies that this delight in our senses is because in the act of sensing, we are coming to a knowledge of the things around us. He also says that, in addition to this, sensing allows us to make real distinctions between things, and that this act of making distinctions (construed as an act of coming to know them) is part of what we enjoy.
Aristotle's defense of (2) seems to be offered in a sort of round-about way. He talks about how, unlike various other animals (he uses bees as an example), our cognitive faculties are endowed with memory. The end for which memory seems to exist is to produce what Aristotle calls "experience" (that is, experiential knowledge). This experiential knowledge, then, leads to the generalized areas of knowledge he calls "art" (what we'd probably just call a "discipline" or "science"). So, then, it seems that our cognitive and perceptual faculties aim at knowledge, showing that the "desire to know" is innate and natural to the human species.
Aristotle, anticipating (I think) the objection that this knowledge is nonetheless aimed only at practical ends, argues the following: Although it is true that art, and experience, are equally valuable and essential to "getting things done" (e.g., a doctor needs experience and technical medical knowledge to operate on someone), nonetheless we as a species appear to value art over experience. Art, Aristotle says, entails a knowledge of universals (or general principles), whereas experience entails a knowledge of particulars (how this or that specific object behaves). Another way he expresses this is by saying that knowledge of universals is knowledge which is aimed at causes (the "why"s of things), whereas knowledge of particulars is aimed at instances (the fact that something is such and such, as opposed to why it is). Aristotle argues that art, this knowledge of universals, is not only valued over experience, but it is most highly valued when utterly divorced from experience. This, he says, is why we say those people are most wise and to be honored who strive to acquire knowledge for it's own sake, and no other end. As he puts it, it is theoretical knowledge which is valued most by humanity. And this (the proposition expressed by (3) above), he takes to be further evidence that humanity desires, and loves, knowledge simpliciter; knowledge for no other end but itself.
Book I, Chp. I of the Metaphysics seems to be constructed to argue for the following conclusion: That all men, by nature, desire to know (as he says in the first sentence of the work). In favor of this conclusion, as I see it, he offers (roughly) the following three justifications: (1) The pleasure we take in our senses, (2) the end for which our cognitive faculties seem to be constructed, and (3) the fact that the human race exalts knowledge for it's own sake as being the truest sort of wisdom.
In defense of (1) Aristotle notes that we enjoy our senses, and especially sight, for their own sake. That is, even when we're not planning on using any of our senses for a particular practical end, we would still prefer to have them "up and running", so to say. Aristotle implies that this delight in our senses is because in the act of sensing, we are coming to a knowledge of the things around us. He also says that, in addition to this, sensing allows us to make real distinctions between things, and that this act of making distinctions (construed as an act of coming to know them) is part of what we enjoy.
Aristotle's defense of (2) seems to be offered in a sort of round-about way. He talks about how, unlike various other animals (he uses bees as an example), our cognitive faculties are endowed with memory. The end for which memory seems to exist is to produce what Aristotle calls "experience" (that is, experiential knowledge). This experiential knowledge, then, leads to the generalized areas of knowledge he calls "art" (what we'd probably just call a "discipline" or "science"). So, then, it seems that our cognitive and perceptual faculties aim at knowledge, showing that the "desire to know" is innate and natural to the human species.
Aristotle, anticipating (I think) the objection that this knowledge is nonetheless aimed only at practical ends, argues the following: Although it is true that art, and experience, are equally valuable and essential to "getting things done" (e.g., a doctor needs experience and technical medical knowledge to operate on someone), nonetheless we as a species appear to value art over experience. Art, Aristotle says, entails a knowledge of universals (or general principles), whereas experience entails a knowledge of particulars (how this or that specific object behaves). Another way he expresses this is by saying that knowledge of universals is knowledge which is aimed at causes (the "why"s of things), whereas knowledge of particulars is aimed at instances (the fact that something is such and such, as opposed to why it is). Aristotle argues that art, this knowledge of universals, is not only valued over experience, but it is most highly valued when utterly divorced from experience. This, he says, is why we say those people are most wise and to be honored who strive to acquire knowledge for it's own sake, and no other end. As he puts it, it is theoretical knowledge which is valued most by humanity. And this (the proposition expressed by (3) above), he takes to be further evidence that humanity desires, and loves, knowledge simpliciter; knowledge for no other end but itself.
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