Category: Nuance

The Nuisance of Nuance: III. Comprehension

Click here to read Part II. Belief

After a storm, a tree has indeed fallen in the park.

How exactly have we reached some shared understanding of this? On what basis do we actually claim to know that the catalyst for the tree falling down was a powerful gust of wind? Well, we have no video to watch because, while it all transpired, Holmes was busy polishing his magnifying glass, and you were scrolling Reels on your cell phone. And it’s not like we can just flip a switch and reverse time…

But just for kicks, suppose we could. Suppose we could summon the wind by some magical twirl of the fingers, which would mean we could stand the tree back up in order to see it blown down again. Except for… by re-standing the tree and re-summoning the wind, wouldn’t we now be performing an experiment? Wouldn’t we now be responsible for the tree falling down?

Maybe we’d better leave aside fanciful control of natural forces and simply return to the park, where one is apparently able to find these powerful gusts of wind on a semi-regular basis. Who knows, maybe we’ll see a second tree fall down in a second wind storm… although, granted, that would be different and not, according to Hoyle, the ‘same’ exact experience. On the other hand, two trees falling in the same park is not exactly incomparable either. Anyway, supposing we did feel another powerful gust, and hear that ominous crack, and see a second tree fall down… supposing all that, what conclusions might we reach about any fallen tree?

OK, but for anyone to say, “Wow, the wind just blew down that tree!” seems awfully presumptuous for leaving out a pile of background info: roots, trunk, soil. Wind is just one of many factors that might account for a fallen tree… assuming it’s understood well enough, to begin with – remember that ‘arborist’ who stopped by to investigate? Or how about insects or disease, or even the previous six months of weather?

Meteorologist: “… you can see this big system of low pressure just hovering offshore, and that’ll bring a lot of moisture over the next twelve hours. Small craft advisory, and – yikes! – watch out for those gale force winds gusting from the northwest…”
Disdainful Crowd: “I mean, it’s probably all green screen.”

Evidently, when you’re left trusting two self-important college grads – some know-it-all ‘arborist’ and this MSM MeteorMan – hey, it might be ‘this’ scientist or ‘that’ one, but it’s all still just ‘same scio, different pile’, if you know what I mean. Besides, who trusts some self-important college grad? Aren’t they all just approved by self-important college profs? Plus, how can anyone know a correct or incorrect fact anyway? I think that second kind is even an oxymoron.

Beyond some wide consensus, what’s correct about ‘truth’? Well, how do we live as a collective if beholden to the venerate individual? Surely the answer to such questions implicates what we’d consider to be knowledge. Except for… I keep having to remember that knowledge is situated. Yeah, well, if knowledge really is situated, then knowledge is reliant not upon fact but upon perspective and belief – and memory – or at least that’s the way it seems to me. If ‘knowledge’ is internal and inherent then, by definition, ‘fact’ is something we only agree via shared knowledge because how else could I know what you experienced? So as you can only lead a horse to water, and all, if we’re really set to agree upon ‘truth’, it might just be simpler if we changed the definition of ‘fact’.

Then again… agree on ‘truth’ – why? Surely this is why Science has its theories because theories are a way toward explaining what is inferred about ‘truth’ in light of what’s apparent – in light of fact – and if deduction is the chicken, let induction be the egg. What’s more, theories are meant to be not only incomplete but tested: deliberate collections of a priori knowledge assembled and measured by a posteriori knowledge. And now I have in mind deduction, not induction, so put away those magnifying glasses and save your best tweed. But hat-tip for the distinction between apprehension and comprehension: the former is more immediate and discrete, at my fingertips, a sense that something is the case; the latter transcends and perdures by contemplation, some fuller knowledge about whatever it is we’re sensing.

So as we all stand here in the park, apprehending the fallen tree: for goodness sake, here lies the tree! You can touch it, kick it, sit on it, chop it up for firewood. And we all felt the gust of wind, all heard the roots crack, all saw the tree tilt and crash to the ground – well, surely someone did because we finally turned up some cell phone footage – all of which starts to mean that anyone who denies the fact of this fallen tree is plainly a lunatic.

… which starts to mean, upon further contemplation, that someone among us can, in fact, be wrong –   W – R – O – N – G   – when they proclaim some belief that is factually incorrect:

Fallen Tree Denier: “Here stands a tree.”
Disdainful Crowd: “… er, CGI?”

Standing next to the fallen tree, any denial is obvious nonsense, apprehending the infamous “alternative fact.” However, as someone might comprehend the fallen tree, well… that could pose a reasonable dispute and deserve a hearing, particularly as it might rest upon some theory warranted by knowledge of the apprehended facts… or no, wait, that should be “… warranted by any belief about apprehended facts.”

But, as to when those beliefs were determined to be correct or incorrect, well… yes, it is possible for someone’s beliefs to be factually correct, after the fact, and that is one thing. But before the fact, no belief whatsoever can either proclaim or preclude ‘truth’, not even a popular belief, and that is entirely something else.

Click here for Part IV. Will

The Nuisance of Nuance: II. Belief

Featured Still Image: Herbert Lom and Peter Sellers in Blake Edward’s The Pink Panther Strikes Again (1976)

Click here to read Part I. Pedantry

You’re at the park with Sherlock Holmes when a powerful gust of wind blows a tree down. There at your feet now exists the very real consequence of a fallen tree.

Another real consequence is what you and Holmes remember from the experience, and still another is what you now detect in the aftermath… you felt the gust, you heard the crack, you witnessed the fall, and now you puzzle over the remains – well, Holmes puzzles. You’ve been busy with your cell phone, posting pics to Instagram.

Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes (Wikipedia) Photo Credit: Employee(s) of Universal Studios – Photograph in possession of SchroCat, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27846748, Public Domain

By now some people are gathering, bemoaning how this could ever have happened to such a lovely tree. The local constabulary arrives to interview witnesses and start piecing things together. Holmes urges you to shoo all these aside: this fallen tree is now the best available evidence to investigate, in order to understand the powerful gust of wind. And while there appears to be no crime – as of yet! – in the Case of the Fallen Conifer, even so Holmes is convinced that this fallen conifer and any further consequences must surely add up to something, and he will stop at nothing to reconstruct a composite picture of everything at hand: the event-facts… the ‘clues’, as he calls them.

The tree, for instance… there it lies. As well, there are the various recountings from the gathering crowd who, like you and Holmes, were around to feel the gust and hear the crack, if not actually witness the dreadful fall.

p.s. all this seems like inductive work to me, so if we’re going to venerate Sherlock Holmes for anything, how about the magnanimous ‘A’ that finally got added to ‘STEM’.

As to knowledge being situated, yours being yours and mine being mine – which is what got all this started, you may recall – well, there’s plenty to dispute as belief comes to rest upon trust or faith:

Gathering Crowd: “… ‘wind’? ‘Wind’? Anon shall you be telling us you can see this ‘wind’ with your magnifying glass.”
Holmes: “Deny the wind, or deny yourselves. Gormless chunter avails us none – see you not see the swaying branches?”
Gathering Crowd: “Neither swaying, but waving – these are friendly trees. Look, maybe you should just step back and wait for the arborist.”

Alas, that some consequences are plainly apprehended – here lies a fallen tree – while others remain more incomprehensible – who can read the mind of a lunatic?

Thus does Holmes pore over the scene whilst to the constabulary do witnesses report, as well as to the park ranger and a rather concerned arborist in his accompaniment. Eventually, greatly persuaded – arborist or no – and to the great relief of the cynical crowd of gathering cell phones, Holmes deduces induces decides that any effect of wind must be such that ‘wind’ can only be inferred. Having apparently polished his magnifying glass for nothing, ruefully he sets it aplace while drawing intently upon his Calabash. The arborist, meanwhile, has urgently been attempting, if failing, to assure the disdainful crowd that any perceived waving of trees has little to do with friendliness but plenty to do with wind. Evidently, this crowd shares no mood for ‘truth’ in that more factual sense.

Some ‘arborist’: “… this tree was vulnerable to a powerful gust of wind–”
Disdainful Crowd: “You and your fancy credentials, your ‘university education’… and the best you’ve got is some invisible force called ‘wind’?”
Somewhere on the Fringes of the Crowd: “Holmes said ‘wind’, too… It’s collusion!”

Facing such assurance, let’s wrap Example #1 by concluding that ‘truth’, as an entirety, may simply be hard to come by.

Belief in action! (Wikipedia) Photo Credit: Sidney Paget (1860-1908) in The Strand Magazine – http://www.sshf.com/encyclopedia/index.php/The_Adventure_of_the_Solitary_Cyclist, Public Domain

And if knowledge really is situated, then anything anyone claims to know is unique, which is really to say partial. But if ‘unique’ makes someone feel special – well, gosh… maybe that’s what’s most important, after all. Except for… if not everyone’s partiality is to be believed to the same degree – which does seem reasonable, mind you, when you’ve got a disdainful crowd apparently backing it up – in that case, we appear destined only to know unique pieces of what is fully true, on account of having to infer and trust what others claim as fact.

Indeed, facts are facts.

And let’s consider ourselves fortunate that this is not ironic. Evidently, though, ‘facts’ of any stripe – genuine or alternative – can still only take us so far… because what really matters is not whether people are factual or, for that matter, even honest… and what really matters is not even someone’s experience. You might infer and report and share facts every day. Meanwhile, what really matters, as a matter of fact, is whether or not the rest of the people believe you.

Click here to read Part III. Comprehension

The Nuisance of Nuance: I. Pedantry

Here’s one I know:

Knowledge is personally constructed, socially mediated, and inherently situated.

I’ve quoted this before – it was coined years ago by my doctoral advisor and has remained a real foundational statement for him. More recently, I found another one, kind of similar:

… knowledge [is] always ‘situated’ – in other words, produced by and for particular interests, in particular circumstances, at particular times.

This one I found in a dissertation (p. 45, footnote 19), cited as MacLure (2013, p. 167).[1] I wanted more context, so I read the MacLure article, every word, and failed to find this quotation at all – plus the page numbers were off. This is not unusual – in the hustle-and-bustle of research writing, sources get mixed up, or even accidentally forgotten. Okay, so… a little more searching and – whaddya know – another dissertation (p. 137, footnote 71) with the same quotation, cited as MacLure (2013, p. 167). Now, this is a bit unusual – two dissertations, same year, half a world apart, citing the same page from the same source for a quotation that isn’t there. Search for yourself… or try this alternative MacLure link, which is open access. Who knows, must have been a recall or something… salmonella academia.

But once I got to thinking about the whole thing… it seemed almost too perfect: always ‘situated’ for particular interests, in particular circumstances, at particular times. Could it really be that this disembodied quotation had somehow actually found a way to live out its own truth? That’s what the kids say these days, isn’t it… live your own truth?

What could that mean… ‘live your own truth’ – I mean if it’s true. Well, for one thing, it could mean all knowledge is partial and prone to dispute, what you know and what I know simply being portions of what can be known. That’s nothing new, but now even the quote-unquote “same” knowledge must necessarily be air quotes ‘different’ knowledge. So, say you came to know ‘X’ just a split second before me, or say I came to know ‘X’ while standing just a step to your left… I know, it sounds silly but remember, so did disembodied quotation recall… anyway, this isn’t fantasy, it’s academics.

Test on Thursday…
Photo Credit (edited): Kaja Sariwating on Unsplash

Okay, so… let’s say I come to know ‘X’ while descending a flight of stairs, or while standing at the bottom. In each case – however painstaking the difference – I come to know ‘X’ in a way that I literally could not from the other perspective. Even one step above or one step below is not the ‘same’ step on a flight of stairs. Plus, upon any shift of ground, some time will pass – barely a split second from one spot to the next – and since nobody outside Star Trek can be in two places at one time, well… painstaking pedantry over space and time seems ridiculous, but remember… this ain’t SciFi, it’s academics.

Okay, so for example… take the difference between what you come to know and what I come to know.

Let’s say you and I witness some incident together… some movie, some moment, whatever.

And let’s suppose this occurs for each of us simultaneously because we’re standing side-by-side. Wouldn’t anyone just say we’re experiencing “the same thing”? By thing, of course, what they’d mean is an ambiguous pronoun that points at the event. Except for… thing can also point to the experiencing of the event, the distinction being that from either perspective, yours or mine, thing 1 points outward at the event, and thing 2 inward to the experiencing.

And who’s going for beers with someone this pedantic, he asked in a blog post. Anyway, if someone said we’re experiencing “the same thing,” even this would still depend on who said it and when they said it. By the way, if “Who cares?” actually bothered anyone, we wouldn’t even have pedantry. And since we’ve now found out how knowledge is always ‘situated’ for particular interests, in particular circumstances, at particular times, well… you might dare to imagine the situation that compels you to care… and now imagine all the kids wearing Get Pedantic t-shirts.

Okay… you and I experience the same “thing” together, but we each experience it exclusively: you as you, and I as me. As for differing upbringings, educations, biases… as far as coming to any consensus about this ‘same’ event, well… you and I haven’t actually experienced “the same thing” at all, have we? Experience, for want of a better word, must be owned: yours as yours, and mine as mine. And now someone will be disputing all this with something like, “Yeah, but knowledge and experience are different things!” to which I would reply, “You’re buying the first round.” By experience, how about five senses? No, in all fairness, if experience and knowledge were the same thing, we’d use the same word.

So, if knowledge really is situated, then neither you nor I can claim to have the same knowledge – not about that event, and not about anything, ever: at best, we’ll take each other at our word… one read-through of Hamlet should be all anyone needs to grasp this, and if that can’t put the whole ChatGPT fuss in perspective, I don’t know what can.

Okay, how about… you and I have “extremely similar” knowledge. Yeah, except for… if similarity reflects how closely we share background-and-belief, couldn’t it also reflect how closely we stood side-by-side? In fact, couldn’t it reflect both… or maybe that’s ‘either’ – or actually, ‘each’. Hmm…

On the trains, ‘side-by-side’ can even be ‘cheek by jowl’
Photo Credit (edited): Anna Dziukinska on Unsplash

And, of course, whether extremely similar or vastly different, neither your individual knowledge nor mine negates the event itself: something actually happened, and we were each there experiencing it. And neither your individual knowledge nor mine can preclude some fact from the event – not unless we simply didn’t detect it, or unless we simply deny it. But let’s not deny how partially we understand the things that we do detect since – knowledge being situated, and all – we can simply preclude Fact ‘X’ with Alternative Fact ‘Y’. It is, after all, my knowledge. Isn’t it.

Now, I will say… for me, what “alternative facts” means is some people interpret the same thing differently from other people, which is really a short summation of this entire post. But rather than make academic claims when someone declares my fantasy vastly removed from their reality, I prefer to accept that (a) not everybody agrees on everything, and (b) the idiocy to motivate a couched phrase like ‘alternative facts’ doesn’t change what got experienced; it only describes someone’s interpretation of that experience.

Here’s one thing I know: when a tree falls down, that tree is down, and no amount of fantasy will be standing it back up again.

Click here for Part II. Belief

[1] Maggie MacLure is an Education professor in Manchester, UK.