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Saturday, 02 September 2006

Why Study Analytic Philosophy?

So you don't wind up saying something like this:

Broken into 37 meditations, Being and Event is centrally an intervention in what Badiou calls the “Cantor-event.” It goes something like this: Georg Cantor’s work in set theory circa 1874 shatters the distinction between the finite and the infinite by proposing that in any given set of numbers, say [a,b,c], the one, a, is merely a count and not oneness in and of itself. Rather, it is an effect of the presentation of the multiple, a, b, and c; all three take place in the particular situation of the set. Such a presentation allows for the members of the set, and not vice versa. Badiou uses set theory to revise the Heideggerean being-as-one: “Ontology, if it exists,” he says, “is a situation,” that is, one in which beings-as-multiples are presented. It is this structure of which a representation of oneness is an effect.

And his startling proposition: ontology, if it exists, is mathematics.

There's definitely something startling here, but it's not that proposition.  Rather, it's the fact that Pythagoreanism is being cited with tacit approval.  But the point of this post is not to dismiss the notion that the only fundamental kinds of things which exist are mathematical entities.  Oft times those of pseudo-intellectual persuasion invoke scientific principles or mathematical theorems with the mistaken belief that these principles provide them with novel arguments for some thesis.  This is almost always not the case.  The Heisenberg Principle is likely the most abused scientific proposition, but here set theory is the whipping boy.

Cantor did not shatter the distinction "between the finite and the infinite".  In fact, under any natural understanding of what it might mean to "shatter" such a distinction, there is no longer any distinction between the finite and the infinite.  That, of course, is false.  This post contains a finite number of letters.   

What Cantor did was to introduce the notion of equicardinality between sets, such that set A and set B have the same cardinality if and only if there is a 1-1 function from A onto B.  A function is a set of ordered pairs R such that, for all x, y and z, if <x,y> and <x,z> are members of R, then y = z.  (Think of a set of points.  The requirement for a set of points constituting a function is that for any x value of the function, there is only one y value.  For the intuitive graphical examples, note that a vertical line is not a function, a horizontal line is a function, and a diagonal line is a one-one function.)  Finally, and to fully define all the terms used in the definition of "equicardinality", a function with domain A is "onto B" just in case the domain of the function is identical with B.

Here's a nifty way of thinking of equicardinality that was recently suggested to me.  Imagine a table at your favorite fine restaurant with dinner service set for eight.  Suppose you wonder whether the table setting is complete, or perhaps, whether everybody had a wine glass.  There are two obvious ways to figure out whether or not everybody has a wine glass.  The slowest way would be to count all the chairs first, count all the wine glasses second, and then see if your numbers match.  Most of us, however, would probably instead check to see if every chair is paired with a single unique wine glass.  If you can match every chair to a single unique wine glass, then there is a one-one function from the set of chairs onto the set of wine glasses.  That is, the sets have the same cardinality.  For any finite number of chairs and wine glasses, these two methods of counting will return the same answer, but matters become tricky if we move to infinitely long tables.    

There was a distinction between the finite and the infinite both before and after Cantor.  But after Cantor, we could draw further distinctions between infinite sets on the basis of their cardinality.  (It should be remembered that cardinality is a semi-technical notion, stipulatively defined.)  Consider two infinite sets: the set of natural numbers {0, 1, 2, 3, 4...} and the set of even numbers {0, 2, 4, 6, 8...}.  Intuitively, the set of even numbers contains exactly half plus one as many members as the set of natural numbers.  But the two sets have the same cardinality.  Each member of the evens can be paired with exactly one unique member of the naturals.  That is, there is a one-one function from the evens onto the naturals.  To see this, pair zero with zero, one with two, two with four, three with six, etc...

The notion of cardinality is, pretty obviously, not the same as the commonsense notion of size.  Thus, the fact that two infinite sets have the same cardinality does not entail that they have the same number of members, though the fact that two finite sets have the same cardinality does entail this.  (The former claim is mildly controversial.)  But in any case, cardinality is a technical notion, and while applying it to infinite sets yields amazing mathematics, the results are not really surprising since "cardinality" is a notion introduced by stipulative definition.  You shouldn't be shocked to hear that the set of the evens has the same cardinality as the set of the naturals, though you might well be shocked to hear that these sets are the same size, or have the same number of members, etc...  With the notion of cardinality defined above, it can be proven that some infinite sets have greater cardinality than others.  So  while Cantor opened up the field of transfinite mathematics, but, not to belabor the point,  shattered no distinction between the finite and the infinite.

I have no idea whether Badiou makes such a ridiculous claim or whether Alexandra Heifetz invented it, but either way, some training in analytic philosophy will prevent one from making such bizarre assertions.  I leave to my readers the task of attempting to come to grips with the rest of that strange business involving sets not being "oneness in and of themselves".

Wednesday, 15 March 2006

Lessons in Fringe Philosophy?

What is feminist philosophy of science?  I take it that it is in large part constituted by pointing out facts such as this one:

Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney from New York points out that there has been far more testing on the possible health effects of chlorine-bleached coffee filters than on chlorine-bleached tampons and related products. - link

After pointing to such facts (which are obviously distressing), the feminist philosophers of science go on to propose scientific methodologies that will avoid the "male bias" in science.  I guess.  The project has more merit (though whether or not it has merit qua philosophy is  a question I leave unanswered here) than, say, feminist logic, which is, contrary to what you may have thought, not a study of the way women reason, but a concerted effort to undermine fundamental laws of logic (such as the law of identity) by pointing out that they contribute to the oppression of vast numbers of people (who do not believe in necessary or objective truths or else allegedly do not believe in "our" objective truths).  That there is no such thing as "objective truth", and therefore no such thing as the modern analytic philosophers "law of identity", is often defended by appeal to the trivial claim that we are all subjects.

We here at Scottish Nous do not find either feminist philosophy of science or feminist logic, at least in their above crystallizations, very philosophically interesting.  If, however, you think that one of your favorite subjects (or arguments) has been here maligned, please take a moment to set us straight.

 

Wednesday, 23 March 2005

Slow Blogging & Dasein

Blogging will be slow for awhile, as the semester is winding to a close.  Meanwhile, consider the title my illustrious roommate, Ricardo Morsella, has chosen for the second section of his current paper: The Thematization of the Question of Being: The Ground of the Emergence of Dasein as the Necessary Field of Inquiry for the Elucidation of the Phenomena of Time and Being.  No comment.  (Posted with his permission.)

Monday, 20 December 2004

The Toilet Speaks

Chuck Shepherd always comes through.  Mr. Zisek has got to be kidding.  Unfortunately, I think many students believe this is what philosophers do.  Some of them even aspire to it.  From News of the Weird:

In a September issue of the London Review of Books, trendy Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zisek made the point that the essential ideological differences in German, French and British-American societies, as noted by G.W.F. Hegel and others, can be represented by their countries' respective toilet designs. The German toilet's evacuation hole is in the front, facilitating "inspection and analysis," but the French design places the hole in the rear, so that waste disappears quickly. The British-American toilet allows floatation, which of course signals that society's "utilitarian pragmatism." Zisek described his theory as an "excremental correlative-counterpoint" to a framework identified with French philosopher Claude Levi-Strauss. [Boston Globe, 9-12-04]

Is the framework identified with Levi-Strauss supposed to be "structuralism", or the "search for unsuspected harmonies" between deeply imbedded culturual notions and toilets?

Friday, 17 December 2004

Femmes Damnees

I haven't solved a paradox today, so, despite the subtitle of this blog, may I recommend Charles Baudelaire's Paris Spleen. An excerpt:

You must always be high. Everything depends on it: it is the only question. So as not to feel the horrible burden of Time wrecking your back and bending you to the ground, you must get high without respite.

But on what? On wine, on poetry, or on virtue, whatever you like. But get high. 

And if sometimes you wake up, on palace steps, on the green grass of a ditch, in your room's gloomy solitude, your intoxication already waning or gone, ask the wind, the waves, the stars, the birds, clocks, ask everything that flees, everything that moans, everything that moves, everything that sings, everything that speaks, ask what time it is. And the wind, the waves, the stars, the birds, clocks, will answer, 'It is time to get high! So as not to be the martyred slaves of Time, get high; get high constantly! On wine, on poetry, or on virtue, as you wish.

If only I could read French!  I picked up Les Fleurs du Mal at the library today.  It's an excellent volume of poetry, though I confess that I prefer the prose of Paris Spleen.  Now there is a particular English edition of the former which collects together the (allegedly) best translations of each of his poems, and Aldous Huxley is credited with one poem - about the lesbians Delphine and Hyppolyta.  The French title is "Femmes Damnees"!  I'm not quite sure how to pronounce it, but it looks like it sounds sexy.  I'll be savoring a stunted little blossom each night before bed.  Inhale one here.

The Flowers of Evil begins with an excellent little poem "To The Reader", the conclusion of which will be keenly familiar to any respectable aesthete.  (Baudelaire was an aesthete and dandy who dabbled heavily in moral perversity, to wit, a decadent.)  The translation linked above differed from the two in my copy, and I think it bests them both.  This suggests that my qualification above (i.e., "allegedly best translations") was apropos.  In any case, a hellishly delicious morsel:

  Just as a lustful pauper bites and kisses
  The scarred and shrivelled breast of an old whore,
  We steal, along the roadside, furtive blisses,
  Squeezing them like stale oranges for more.
 

Tuesday, 14 December 2004

Non-Philosophical Non-Interests

It's and old post at TAR, and I really ought not to be bringing it up, since it's likely I have some sort of prudential obligation to shield its comments thread from the eyes of my phenomenologically sensitive roommate.  His thoughts on the matter run something as follows: 

Being a member of a kind brings with it heightened acquaintance for all facets of that kind, does it not?  Assuredly.  Is it true that a musician could adore Rachmaninoff, Liszt, Chopin, Bach, and Haydn, yet express disappreciation for Wagner, Dvorak, Korsakov, or Gershwin?  Definitely not!  Or a painter value da Vinci, Raphael, and Michelangelo, yet not Dali, Chagall, Chirico, and Picasso? Unthinkable!  Indeed, when a painter well acquainted with Michelangelo dismisses Chirico as a wortheless artist, does he not reveal that he is of a vulgar and brutish sort?  With certainty.  And so with the analytic philosopher who commits the contintental to the flames?  Quite right.

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