Imagine that an evil sophist named Moriarty came and asked you the following question:
"I've heard that Sherlock Holmes was not a dentist; is it true that he was, instead, a detective?"
You are then faced with a conundrum. On the one hand, we would tend to say that Sherlock Holmes was not a dentist; he was a detective. However, if we affirm that Sherlock Holmes was a detective, we also affirm that Sherlock Holmes "was"-- that is, there was actually a "Sherlock Holmes". If his name refers only to the character of Sherlock Holmes, the position is not salvaged, because the "character" of Sherlock Holmes was not a detective; only those who actually exist can be detectives (so, Santa Claus is not a detective any more than he is a philanthropist), and as the "character" of Sherlock Holmes is not a real person-- merely a literary device-- he cannot be a detective.
One might attempt to salvage Holmes' professional status by adding a modifier: "[In the context of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories], Sherlock Holmes was a detective". While this seems a clever solution, it might not be sufficient to overcome the problem of reference. In the story, "The Sign of the Four", Sherlock Holmes "is" a detective. What does "Sherlock Holmes" refer to? Is it a detective? Yes, that seems to be the case. So, then, what does the modifier, [In the context of a story], actually mean?
It's an interesting question, in part because we assume that the context of a story is, generally, not a subset of our own context. If this were not the case, works of fiction whose context directly contradicted our own context would be problematic; a world where witches can fly on broomsticks would be false, as opposed to merely fictional. And it should be prima facie obvious that our world is not a subset of a fictitious world. Therefore, the context of a story is not a subset of the real-world context, and vice versa.
However, if Sherlock Holmes was a detective in the context of a story, and that context isn't a subset of our own, we return to Moriarty's challenge: "I've heard that Sherlock Holmes was not a dentist; is it true that he was, instead, a detective?"
We would, then, be forced to respond to Moriarty by stating: "No, Sherlock Holmes was not a detective; neither Sherlock Holmes, nor the character of Sherlock Holmes, exists. However, in the context of the stories, Sherlock Holmes was a detective, and existed. This context, however, does not posit any actual existence of Sherlock Holmes, which would suggest that he was therefore not a detective".
Boo hiss, Moriarty. You've presented us with a conundrum, and it seems rational to assume that we must deny Mr. Holmes' professional credentials, even as a character. Do you agree? Disagree? Think there's a flaw in the problem or in the argument? Share your thoughts in the comments!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Sherlock Holmes: Not a Detective?
Posted by Zach Sherwin at 1:19 PM 2 comments
Friday, November 13, 2009
Logic and the Rules of the Internet
Greetings,
While there not, of course, official rules of the internet, there exists a set of unofficial rules; not all of them originated on the internet, but many are constantly referenced. I'm not going to post the full list here-- not all of them are likely to be appropriate for a blog post-- but some of them are at least mildly philosophically interesting.
The first rule we'll look at is the Danth's Law. This law states, "if you have to insist that you've won an internet argument, you've probably lost badly.” In other words, if it is not obvious and noncontroversial that you have proven your point, and yet you state that you have proven your point, the odds are good that you have already shown the weakness of your argument, and are past the point of no return. If the validity of your argument is not obvious from the argument itself, it is invalid; if your argument's form and content is insufficient to have achieved validity, asserting that it is valid will make it necessarily invalid.
Certain rules are numbered, due to their longstanding solidarity with message-board subculture, such as "Rule 14": "Do not argue with trolls-- it means they win". A "troll" is one who posts intentionally inflammatory material and/or responses, often ignoring basic logical principles such as validity, coherency, and relevancy. No logical argument, no matter how carefully constructed, can be valid if one denies the basic axioms of the logical system one works in. Trolls, who often make fallacious arguments such as Reductio ad Hitlerum (described below), do not hold the philosophical motivations of the pursuit of truth or even coherency; rather, they seek either to win or to create a reaction. Thus, do not engage in a philosophical debate with one who does not act in good faith; you won't be productive, and will probably just end up frustrated.
Another rule is Godwin's Law, originally stated by Mike Godwin in 1990, which claims that, "as a Usenet discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches 1." The reason? Across the internet, people are less personally accountable for their statements, and thus are less likely to concede to their opponents' arguments. Thus, a universal absolute is difficult to find. While individuals certainly exist who, online, would deny that the Nazis were in fact "evil", it is one of the few relatively non-controversial premises in an online argument. Therefore, it is likely to be used when there is no common ground.
A closely related rule was actually stated by Leo Strauss in the 1950's, which is Reductio ad Hitlerum, which argues that, "If Hitler liked P, then P is bad, because the Nazi's were bad", or, "If Nazis liked P, then P is bad, because the Nazis were bad." This actually seems to be a problem with the "is" function-- the "is of identity" versus the "is of predication. "Bachelors are unmarried men" is an example of the "is of identity"-- A is the same as B. "Nazi's are bad", however, is the "is of predication"-- B is merely a property of A. The Reductio ad Hitlerum argument states, [Nazis=Bad], [Nazis=(One who likes P)], therefore [(One who likes P)=Bad]. The arguer is mistaking the "is of predication" to be the "is of predication" (and vice versa). Some philosophical training on the differences between the two should be sufficient to show why such arguments are fallacious.
I want to credit an excellent article by the Telegraph for compiling many of these "laws", as well as several others I did not talk about. If you're interested, definitely worth a read. As well, a simple search for "rules of the internet" will yield a fairly solid list, with some minor variations depending on whose list it is.
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Apostasy of Smerdyakov
Greetings,
Although my free–reading time has been severely limited due to the standard semester business, I’ve nevertheless found time to continue reading Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov. Aside from having the coolest name I’ve ever read (say it aloud a few times and bask in its greatness), Dostoevsky has a pretty interesting way of structuring his character development… I’m not convinced yet that the book deserves the accolades it has received, but it’s at least keeping me reading, which means I might be swayed, eventually.
In Book Three, Chapter VII (“The Controversy”), a character named Smerdyakov argues that, if one takes the Bible to be axiomatically true, it would not be a sin for an individual to renounce his faith if faced with torture or, perhaps, even death. Even though the character is largely trying to provoke others into anger with the argument, the argument itself is interesting, and I’d like to see how well you all think it works. I’m going to spell it out in as straightforward manner as possible. The edition I’m using the reference this is the 1976 Constance Garnett translation, revised and edited by Ralph E. Matlaw. I shall be referring to the tortured individual as “I” in this argument, because that is how Smerdyakov chose to argue.
1. The instant I say to a potential tormentor, “No, I’m not a Christian, and I curse my true God”, I am immediately cursed and “cut off” from the Holy Church (116)
2. However, one need not speak their apostasy; when I think it, before I had actually said it, I am already “cut off”—“accursed”. (116)
3. At the moment I become accursed, I become exactly like a heathen, and my christening is taken off me. (117)
4. If I’ve ceased becoming a Christian, I have told no lie to the enemy when they asked whether or not I was a Christian, as I had already lost my salvation before speaking. (117)
5. If I’m no longer a Christian, then I can’t renounce Christ, for I have nothing to renounce that belongs to me. (117)
6. It is said in Scripture that, if you have faith, even as a mustard seed, and tell a mountain to move into the sea, it would instantly do so. (118)
7. If a torturer tells me to convert, and I tell a mountain to move and crush the tormentor, and it does not do so, my faith wasn’t even that of a mustard seed, and thus I wouldn’t have been able to get to heaven, anyways. (119)
The intended result? If an individual is told to either renounce their religion or be tortured, and they proclaim that they will not be tortured because of x [x could be any saving act, such as the moving of a mountain], x will happen if their faith is real. If their faith is not real, one thinks that they are not saved, and thus cannot renounce their faith, because they have nothing to renounce. Thus, it is not a sin to commit apostasy (to renounce one’s faith) under the threat of torture, because one has nothing to renounce.
Thoughts? Is his argument good, and does it prove what he thinks it proves? Is it simply a word game, or is there something there?
Posted by Zach Sherwin at 12:54 PM 2 comments
Labels: argument, dostoevsky, philosophy of religion