Saturday, March 31, 2012

On Knowledge


The Stoic theory of knowledge builds directly on their epistemology, but I find it better conceived and more complete. As Zeno pantomimed many thousands of years ago, the states of knowledge can be traced with two hands. An open palm is an impression. A loosely held fist is assent. A tight fist is cognition, or katalepsis. Finally, a second hand wrapped around a tight fist is scientific knowledge – episteme.

There is also opinion, doxa. Reading that, by the way, cleared up a longstanding question of mine about what ‘doxography’ was. Anyway, opinion according to Sextus Empiricus was weak and false assent. Plutarch, however, held that opinion was assent to the incognitive. It seems the latter is the prevailing Stoic view. The Stoic sage would never opine on anything, for all opinion was false and blameworthy. According to Arcesilaus, then, the Stoic sage must necessarily always suspend judgment, lest he opine. I suppose that’s too lofty of a goal, but not a bad one. A person is right to suspend judgment until he can be sure of his impressions – since one can never be sure, judgment should necessarily always be suspended.

The inferior man, which includes everybody due to the impossibility of becoming a true sage, is always ignorant. Even his assent to true cognitive impressions is ignorance. Since the Stoics typically framed their beliefs in dichotomies, there is no middle ground between the sage’s excellence and the inferior man’s ignorance. Assent to true cognitive impressions comprises scientific knowledge for the sage because he, to use Long and Sedley’s words, has freed himself from “all doubt, uncertainty, falsehood, and instability from his cognitive state”.

Of course, to prevent realizing the futility of man’s quest, one must partially reject the dichotomy of knowledge and strive for a more complete grasp of episteme. Otherwise, why even try at all? Hence, a modern day Stoic handbook should perhaps allow deviations from the scripture, identifying a series of ‘intermediate’ states of knowledge, much like the ‘preferred’ and ‘non-preferred’ neutral objectives in Stoic ethics.

Friday, March 30, 2012

On Sensation and Truth

At the heart of epistemology is the debate between empiricism and rationalism. Can we discover truths just by sensing them, with our eyes and ears? Or must truths come from our minds, from careful reasoning? Perhaps Descartes is correct - the only truth is that I exist, in some form or another.

Of course the Greeks got in on the debate, but I was surprised by the Stoics' open embrace of pure empiricism. According to essentially every Stoic philosopher, all things are peculiarly qualified and can, as such, give a 'cognitive impression'. That is, an impression which is completely distinct; one can 'grasp' the impression and know its truth. I can't agree to this. I do believe that there are things which are so identical to one another than they absolutely cannot be positively identified. What would the Stoics say of individual atoms, which are absolutely homogenous, if only with today's technology. They claim that twins and identical eggs and other such dualities known to them can be identified 'with sufficient effort and expertise'. Yet, the human senses are limited to certain resolutions and accuracies - it is therefore possible that the subtleties between two objectively different things will be below the threshold detectable by a human.

Impressions are of two sorts, at the most basic level - true impressions, and false impressions (figments). The Academics brought up continuously the fact that there will never be a true impression that cannot be imitated exactly by a false one. The Stoics defended themselves by adding clauses, essentially, to their criteria for truth. A true impression must also concur with preconceptions, then. However, preconceptions are created through experience.... hence, the argument is ultimately redundant.

Diogenes Laertius relates an example: Ptolemy Philopator placed before a philosopher named Sphaerus some wax pomegranates. When Sphaerus was tricked into believing they were real, Ptolemy rejoiced, as he had proved the Academics' argument. However, Sphaerus claimed he had not assented to the true impression they were pomegranates, but rather assented to the impression that it was reasonable that they were pomegranates.

Perhaps Sphaerus truly believed in the distinction between the two impressions. I think most people, however, desire objective truth, not a recognizance of the possibility of truth. How can we make conclusions about the world if we are only recognizing that the world 'possibly' works in this way? No, objective truth is needed, and the Stoics never did identify an objectively acceptable way of sorting truth from fiction. When specific examples were used to illustrate the fallacy of sense-data, they claimed that the individuals in question were not acting 'under normal circumstances', meaning the Stoics did not agree they were acting as rational actors. Perhaps this is reminiscent of the Stoic sage archetype. In Stoic ethics, the sage is a perfect human, but realistically unattainable. That is acceptable as a goal or role model. However, in epistemology, having an unattainable state of existence being the only one capable of discerning truth is NOT acceptable. If I'm going to believe in the objective truth of sense-data, it's not going to be because of the Stoics.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

On Redundancy and Determinism

Sextus Empiricus claims that arguments are invalid if they are redundant. The example he uses, the premise 'if it is day, it is light' is such a redundancy, though I will overlook my disagreement with even that basic premise. Such a premise, in which the conditions follows directly and obviously from the antecedent, is 'invalid'. This backs Stoic logic into a corner, in my view. Empiricus admits this. If a premise is true, then the conditional can be directly deduced, and so it is invalid. If, on the other hand, the premise is false, than it will certainly be invalid as well. How then, can arguments proceed?

The prevailing attitude of the Stoics towards Sophist arguments was to ignore them. Arguments like the Sorites argument, or Little-by-Little argument. A good example is asking how many grains of corn make a heap of corn. By increasing the number of grains one by one, the addressee must eventually choose a number of grains which makes a heap of grain a heap - however, having picked a number, if that amount of grains is reduced by one then the heap should no longer exist. This is a thought-provoking argument, if rather useless, but the Stoics tend to minimize and ostracize the Sophists. It seems to me such an argument is good food for thought and a good mental exercise, and shouldn't be rejected out of hand.

Diodorus and Chrysippus were also engaged in a long argument, essentially about whether a thing can be possible if it never occurs. I think this is fascinating. If something doesn't occur, was it ever really possible? Likewise, if something occurs, was it not a necessity? For an example, I reach to my own history. Was it ever possible for me to attend Harvard? Conventionally, I would say yes. I have enough raw intelligence that I could have exerted myself sufficiently to be accepted there. In a sense, that future was possible. But in a more literal sense, it was never a possibility. As events in my life have borne out, I was not interested in academics until high school. Even then I came nowhere close to exerting myself. In that sense, then, attending Harvard was never a possibility. Sure, qualifying circumstances would change the truth of that statement - IF my past was different, THEN I could have attended. But that restructures the proposition. As Chrysippus noted, however, this outlook tends to remove moral responsibility from the actor. Let's say I cheated on a test in high school, which I did more than once. Sure, I accept responsibility for that. But on the other hand, the confluence of academic pressure, peer pressure, and the course of events to that point made my actions a necessity. To not cheat was possible, but never a possibility. 


Yet, the Stoics anguished over holding on to moral responsibility in the face of this argument. I cannot reject such responsibility, even though I agree with the conflicting theory of relative determinism. Obviously, I don't claim the two are compatible.

Chrysippus' argument: "If there is motion without cause, not every proposition will be either true or false, since anything lacking efficient causes will be neither true nor false. But every proposition is either true or false. Therefore there is no motion without a cause. If this is so, everything that happens happens through antecedent causes - in which case, everything happens through fate. The result is that everything that happens happens through fate."

Monday, March 26, 2012

Stoic Language

The Stoics loved definitions. But, not the way Hobbes (and I) do. Rather, Stoic definitions apply more to concepts and things than words. A proper Stoic definition involves identifying the genus of a concept, and then that which differentiates it from the other 'species' of the genus. In this vein, man can be defined as a rational (differentiating element) animal (genus). I'll be honest - I don't know how much this contributes to clear discourse. Developing a framework within which physics can be analyzed is one thing. But to attempt to break down much hairier concepts into concrete niches... well, I think that would fare no better than classifying animals has under the current taxonomic system. Like animals, concepts are too interrelated and too subjective. Corralling them into neat definitions misses a lot of what makes them 'peculiarly qualified'. 

Sunday, March 25, 2012

On Dialectic

I was somewhat surprised to learn of the emphasis Stoics placed on dialectic and rhetoric. I had thought even dialectic was relatively unimportant to them, to say nothing of rhetoric. Yet, Diogenes Laertius claims early Stoics valued them both, and texts by Zeno, Chrysippus, and Epictetus partially support this notion. I was quite pleased then, since I recognize the value of dialectic, to see the Stoics attached several virtues to the science of logic and discourse. Non-precipitancy, uncarelessness, irrefutability, and non-randomness.

Zeno of Citium valued both divisions of logic. Dialectic was 'the closed fist' - clarity and brevity. Rhetoric was 'the outstretched hand' - breadth of argument and ability. Chrysippus, naturally, valued them both as well. It seems later Stoics eased off on their support for rhetoric. Certainly it is a useful skill to have, but not essential. Dialectic, however, as far as it comprises definitions and logical analysis is of great necessity to even an amateur philosopher.

I'll end with a strange view on arguments by Zeno. When told not to pass judgement until both sides had spoken, Zeno replied, "The second speaker must not be heard, whether the first speaker proved his case (for the inquiry is then finished) or did not prove it (for that is just like his not having complied when summoned, or his having complied by talking nonsense). But either he proved his case or he did not prove it. Therefore the second speaker must not be heard." I can honestly say I have never heard this take on discourse before, but perhaps there is something to it.

Stoic Ontology 3

And so we arrive at the end of Stoic ontology. The third and fourth genera - disposed and relatively disposed. Perhaps I have a flawed understanding, which itself is understandable considering the dearth of extant texts, but to me these seem to indicate qualities of a substance. Not necessarily an identity, as that is what qualified is, but rather characteristics. Disposed substance has intrinsic characteristics, like weight and density. Relatively disposed substance has characteristics which can change as a result of changes external to that substance. The oft-cited Greek example is that of two men standing together, the 'man on the right' loses that characteristic if his neighbor moves, despite the fact that the first man did nothing.

Stoics seemed to have put most characteristics, however, in the second and third genera. They acknowledged that properties like sweetness and bitterness were experienced differently among people, yet still maintained they were dispositions and not relative. I disagree, and it is comforting to know Carneades did as well. In the Greek skepticism vein (NOT the modern skepticism), I would say there are very few qualities that can be said to be 'intrinsic', beyond of course mass and density. And any quality that is not intrinsic, cannot be said to identify someone - therefore, the vast majority of transitive characteristics can only be placed in the fourth genus. Chrysippus and Aristo once argued about where virtue and knowledge were to be placed. That is a question to ponder, to be sure.

Finally, we arrive at universals. The Stoics had a much more sensible view than Plato did on the subject. Thinking of a universal idea such as 'man' produces a conception in our mind of what 'man' is - the concept that results is the universal 'man'. Hence, such a concept is transitory, non-existent, and perhaps most importantly, subjective. A universal does not predate any specific example of it, as Platonic universals do, and for that matter is not really bound to a specific example at all. The trouble with this argument is when individuals confuse their universals - what if when one person thought of 'man', another thought of 'horse'. When discourse is subjective in this manner, philosophy is no easy task.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Stoic Ontology 2

The Stoics divide subsistence into incorporeals, bodies, and 'neither', as I mentioned in the last post. Body is then split into four genera, the first two of which are 'substance' and 'qualified individuals'. It makes for a confusing division of matter, and it seems mighty problematic to me.

Substance is any and all matter. It might be better defined as 'substrate'. Matter without characteristics or definition. Qualified individuals are collections of substance that do have characteristics and definition. Here, the category must split into species - peculiarly qualified individuals and commonly qualified individuals. To be commonly qualified means a lump of matter has a 'common' identity - that of a chair, or table, or man. To be peculiarly qualified means, effectively, a proper noun - Socrates, for instance.

Well, first of all, this assumes the existence of ideals. Which reminds me to bone up on my Plato, but I digress. How can a given lump of matter be commonly qualified as a chair if there is no ideal chair? What is to prevent that lump from being merely a chair-shaped rock? Or an extremely uncomfortable and short bed? Immediately, the Stoic convention on body becomes subjective, which in my mind is unacceptable. Secondly, why can some things be commonly qualified, and others not? The extant Stoic texts seem to indicate that a 'lump of matter' wasn't good enough - it had no identity. But does a lump not have an identity? Of course it does - that of being a lump. It has a shape, and chemical composition, and size, etc. Where is the boundary between those collections of matter with common qualifications, and those without? I realize the Stoics partially defined 'quality' as coming from the pneuma or breath that flowed through everything, but that still seems like an awfully subjective system of definitions.

Lastly, Philo describes a dialectical argument made by Chrysippus in which two men are identical in every way - except one is missing a foot and the other is not. The two-footed man then loses his. Somehow, the ultimate conclusion of the argument is that the first man ceases to exist, as a man can't lose what he never had. I have to admit I don't understand the reasoning behind Chrysippus' reply to the Academics' Growing Argument. If the Stoics claim that two peculiarly qualified individuals may not occupy the same matter, then fine. But then, Dion and Theon cannot be identical. Even if they are 'congruent', to use an old geometry term, their substance still varies by virtue of its location, or even its time. I agree with Chrysippus that two peculiarly qualified bodies may not occupy one substrate, but I why that proves his argument. Perhaps a better question - can one peculiarly qualified body occupy two identical collections of substance?