Menú 1

El Paraíso. Veintinueve de Mayo de dos mil dos. Descansa Eduardo porque hoy no hay nada complicado en el menú. Hay Crema de Apio o Consomé. El Apio lo tenemos y para hacer la crema sólo me toma una media hora. La pienso hacer mientras están los guisados. Por el consomé ni te preocupes. Voy a necesitar papas y zanahorias para guisar, así que, junto con lo que quedó, podemos hacerlo sin chistar. Pero no olvides poner el pollo a hervir. Porque el consomé que quedó no es suficiente. De todas formas tendré que levantarme a las cuatro. El del New Yorker no se levanta sino hasta las nueve y el doctor siempre llega temprano. Además le tengo que pagar al de la Basura, esperar al del Gas y comprar el pan, las tortillas, la leche para la crema y la pasta, pues continuamos con Spaguetis o Arroz. Hay Eduardo, ¡estás loco! Se te va a secar el cerebro. Haz lo que tu quieras, pero no olvides comprar el Chicharrón, que nada más tengo la salsa y los nopales y después seguimos con Nopalitos con Chicharrón o Salchichas con Puré. Sí, está bién. No se me olvida. Lo voy a apuntar, mira, ahí está juntito con la pasta, la leche y los cigarros de mi hija. ¡Oye! Y estás segura de que quieres hacer también el Pollo a la Hawaiana. Recuerda que mañana vas al Seguro. Luego no tienes tiempo y ahí estamos todos corriendo. ¡Chín! Se me había olvidado que tengo cita mañana. ¡Ay! Y es que sí me duele la espalda. Yo no sé que tengo, pero siempre por las tardes me punza aquí abajo. Aunque seguro la doctora me va a decir lo de siempre. Que yo no puedo trabajar de pie. Que tengo que estar relajada. Que mi columna no está fuerte. Que debo hacer más ejercicio. Pero bueno, por el Pollo no te preocupes. Eso lo hago rápido. Na’ más no se te olvide comprar la piña y los pimientos, porque después viene el Salpicón. ¡Ah! Y de paso te traes un poco de ajonjolí para las enchiladas. Acuérdate que todavía hay crema y bastante cebolla. Y no vayas a comprar más galletas, que entre tu y tu hija ya me tienen harta. Se la viven trague y trague todo el día, como pajarítos pero bien que le entran. Van a acabar echos una bola los dos. ¡Ay sí! A mi ni me metas en tus broncas. Además de que, tu, ni digas eh, mi Chemita. Que tu le entras a la comida pero con singular alegría. Hubieras visto manito, la otra vez me quedé a ayudarle a mis papás porque tuvieron muchos clientes afortunadamente. Lo único malo que es que acabamos muy tarde y sin comer, ya sabes, como hasta las 6 de la tarde. Como a eso de las cinco ya ninguno podíamos. Papá apenas y lavaba un traste cada tanto y yo ya quería sacarlos a todos de las greñas. Pero hubieras visto, estábamos Mamá, Papá y yo preparándonos la comida. Mamá preparó carne asada con su ensaladita de lado para nosotros, mientras se servía un plato sopero de nopales con salsa para botanear con sus tostadas. Luego, se sirvió una carne para ella sola. No habíamos terminado cuando ya se había servido otro poco de pollo desmenuzado, con mole y cebolla. Y para rematar, se sirvió, de postre, un plato de arroz con leche y su bolota de helado. ¡Papá y yo nos quedamos así! Nunca la había visto comer tanto. Eso no tiene nada que ver. Yo como a mis horas. Ustedes no paran de tragar. Por eso están tan gordos ya. Mírame a mí. Comeré mucho pero no estoy gorda. ¡Ay sí, ay sí! ¡Qué presumida! Qué presumida ni qué ocho cuartos. Véte de aquí que estoy haciendo el menú con tu padre. Ya tienes el mole. ¡Verdad! De postré haré gelatina. Por eso ni te preocupes. Yo ahí veo de qué tenemos y con eso la hago. Y por los frijoles y el arroz con leche ni te preocupes, que ahí hice ayer y aún queda bastante. Y eso de que la comida incluye un vaso de agua de fruta lo vamos a tener que eliminar pronto porque no está costeando. A ver si no terminamos por subir los precios otra vez. Pues es que esto está de la chingada oye. Mira nada más cuanto nos llegó de luz este bimestre. Y el gas del mes pasado no fue nada barato, carajo. De veras que en este país no se puede hacer nada. Lo tienen a uno agarrado del pescuezo. Cada vez suben más los impuestos y los costos. Y la pinche gente parece que se va a morir de hambre, porque ni a comer viene. Y eso de: 'cerveza, refresco, agua y huevo a once, nueve, cinco y tres por respecto', también lo vamos a cambiar. Tu no te preocupes. Nos va a ir mejor. Nada más no te me aceleres. Porque si no se me pone muy pesado y entonces sí ni pa’ tras ni pa’ lante. Y tu Eddie, sigue escribiendo. Pero si ya terminé. Cuál ya terminaste. Si to’vía te falta. Gracias por Preferirnos. Servimos Almuerzos desde veinte punto cero cero pesos.

Living Minds, Relational Beliefs, and Mosquitoes

I was raised to hate mosquitoes. And, for twenty 26 years straight I learned to hate and destroy them. I used to live in a part of town where mosquitoes are around all year long. Mexico City almost never goes below 32, and when it does it makes sure to warm up to 70 at noon. Mosquitoes were kept indoors.

Today, twenty-six years, two months, and four days later I discovered myself fancying mosquitoes. When are they going to come? When am I going to feel their minimal teeth biting my skin? Will I get to see those capricious forms that they manage to perform while dancing in the air? That great point-size, and point-shape, epidermic sensation finally came today.

The winter is officially gone. This crazy winter. This tough winter. This terrible, unforgettable, winter. There might still be some insinuations of it in the days, months and years to come. Nonetheless, this winter is gone.

Today Ann Arbor is in the mid 70s. The sun is all over the place. I have learned to love mosquitoes, and cherish the sun like I’ve never done.

Minimal Ethics?

I am thinking too much today. For some reason I remembered the conclusion of the vegetarian debate that Sam and I had before. It started here, and ended up here (not without going through here and here). The last word on this was Sam's. After I kept pushing against the 'in principle' part of being a vegetarian for ethical reasons, Sam said: "well, of course it all depends on whether you think or not that humanity is intrinsically valuable." I said nothing afterwards. It felt like the right response, and it still does. I am certain that much of what philosophers argue concerning ethics and value is contingent on whether we do or do not think that humanity is intrinsically valuable. I have a few thoughts to add on this.

First, if the answer is correct, then we must have reached the bottom line. Since we must presuppose something as fixed (e.g., human life is intrinsically valuable) in order to determine what to do - if we are consequentialists, but also even if we are deontologists: e.g., treating humanity, in myself as in others, as an end in and of itself - this sounds like a good place to stop (or we get into an infinite regress).

Second, if we are not compelled by the claim that human life is intrinsically valuable, then that fixed pivot point up there is gone.

Therefore, third, if we don't think human life is intrinsically valuable, there is (at least) no systematic way to determine what to do in which cases. In other words, there is no such thing as 'an ethics' or 'the ethics' as some philosophers might want it to be.

Suppose, then, that we don't share that thought. So what? There is nothing inconsistent about it. To believe that humans are not intrinsically valuable is not an impossible mental state (not even humanly impossible). It is also not a contradictory mental state. Furthermore, it is not something I believe in. So, again, what follows?

Well, if it is true that to determine what to do - regardless of your favorite philosophical (or metaethical trend) - you must get a fixed point, why not be more humble and let that fixed point change by context? But, I hear the voice of the biologically informed philosopher (of the evolutionarily informed thinker) we have evolved as a species with morality, language, and thought, with social capacities, and cognitive capacities. But not only, also poetic capacities, and political capacities, and philosophical capacities too. Isn't that intrinsically valuable? My answer is, of course, NO. We also evolved with the capacity to kill and destroy (even among our own); why isn't that also intrinsically valuable? Your answer is, of course, that it goes against the goal of evolution (but evolution is supposed to eliminate goals!!!!). And my reply is, of course, that (thanks to evolution) I could not care less about evolution when I determine what to do. There is no inconsistency, no impossibility, in just aiming at the destruction of a species (after all, we do it all the time). So what, then?

Well, then, I will say again that I do not intend to vanish moral claims and ethical distinctions. I just intend to keep a low ethical profile by assuming that, in principle, there is no principled manner to determine the right actions. In other words, there is no chance for an ethics if by that we mean 'a principled way of telling us what to do and how to live'.

PunkT!

Silencio (8)

Mensaje:
De mi hermana a los sobrevivientes


"¡Qué poca madre!"

Atte.
La Princesita

One stupidity more

'Stultorum infinitus est numero'

When he wrote that sentence, Mr. Spirit was probably counting on the street-preachers’ interpretation of the Bible. Their readings seem like a collection of stupid claims. The most common ones include a homophobic god that, nonetheless, loves all his creatures, an all controlling god that kills, and rapes at will, and, nonetheless, loves all his creatures, and (as I was told a few weeks ago) a god that can assassinate your whole family because he knows what he is doing and why he is doing it, and still loves you.

Today I recognized a new item in that infinite list of human stupidity. As I was walking back to Angell Hall, with a delicious scoop of Stuchi’s Mackinack Island in a Waffle Cone, a preacher stopped me. After a few minutes of (I don’t know how to call it. It was not a monologue because I did say something. It was not a dialogue because we did not share any common relevant beliefs; and it was not an argument because, well, he didn’t argue. Umh! I guess I can, following Pereda, call it an “Argumentative Vertigo”) he realized I would not buy his cheap products, and left. But not without pointing out that, given my reluctance to believe in God’s existence (and perhaps also owed to the stunningly red color of my jacket, as it reproduced itself in his eye-jelly) he would start believing that I (yes, me) am the devil!

Now, before asking any particular, outstanding, violence-making, genocide-producing, devil-like favor from me, please ask yourselves, as I do, the following question: if there is such a thing as Lucifer, would she (I suppose that, since this character is a lot more interesting than God, and since God is a male, Lucifer must be a female) would she, beautiful Lucifer, believe or not that God exists?

Here are a few possible answers:

1 Yes (obviously! How can Lucifer, one of God’s most entrenched enemies, not believe that God exists? After all, Lucifer herself is defined relative to God.)

2 No (perhaps Lucifer is amnesiac, so she forgot who she is allegedly opposing to).

3 No (perhaps Lucifer is Meinongian, so she knows she’s God’s opponent, but she thinks God merely subsists, right next to the round square, and the wig-bearing king of France).

4 No (perhaps Lucifer is a spiritualist, so she thinks God is an intentional object. Oh my God!)

5 No (perhaps Lucifer is just an idiot, so she thinks she can oppose God without thereby being anything she opposes to)

Of all these, and all the other infinitely many possible negative answers, I think (1) is the only one close to not being stupid. (2) is just a bad answer, since it does not explain why refusing to believe that God exists turns you into Lucifer. (3) is wrong because, as Lucifer knows, subsisting objects cannot be the origin of existing ones (unless, of course, Lucifer is stupid). (4) is wrong because, as Lucifer well knows, intentional objects do not cause any physiological change, and Lucifer is a material object (unless, of course, Lucifer is stupid). (5) is wrong because, well, God’s must beloved and powerful creation can’t just be stupid (so (3) and (4) are fully cancelled), unless, of course, God is stupid.

But, if (1) is the only non-obviously-mistaken answer, doesn’t this make a theist out of Lucifer? And if so, aren’t all preachers asking us to become like her? But then, why make such a fuss about agnosticism, when the enemy is at home, among the theists? As far as this goes, agnostics seem to be better put aside, way beyond God and Devil (all puns intended).

Oh! The lonely people

I have been thinking about this for a long time now, more than ten days for sure. So, I am sure there is something important in here. These reasons must be the right ones. I have stumbled into the paradox of the shy and unfriendly.

Problem 1:
Ludmila is a very lonely girl. She barely talks to people other than Jenik, her husband. She has a cell phone, but rarely receives calls. Ludmila complaints about it all the time. Jenik has suggested that she takes part of a local group of people sharing the same social problem. But, loneliness does not imply stupidity, and Ludmila quickly notices that Jenik is asking her to achieve an impossibility. “It’s like Russell’s set of all sets that are not members of themselves.” She replies. Then, Jenik, friendly but stupid, finally understands. Is it then true that it is not possible to have a group of lonely people? Does the Association of People who know no one exist in this or any other world? If someone, say Ludmila, belongs to the Association she therefore knows someone, and so cannot belong to the association. But if she does not belong, then there’s no chance to know anyone, so she must belong!

Ludmila cries at the perspective of finding herself lonely of necessity.

Problem 2:
Vasek is a very shy guy. He barely talks to anyone, for he is afraid of everyone. In the same building, and in fact in the same floor and same department, there is Tobias, Vasek’s colleague. Tobias is just as friendly as Vasek. Their shyness is so extreme that they put effort on avoiding people. But they both quickly realize this is, again, a goal that is impossible to fulfill. For if there is a restroom, coffee place, or library that people tend to avoid, it is that coffee place, or restroom that any shy guy would look for. Thus, both Vasek and Tobias would end up going to the same restroom, same coffee shop, and same library. The best way for Tobias to avoid Vasek is to avoid the lonely places, but the same is true of Vasek. Further, to avoid the lonely places just is to attend the crowded ones. So there is no option left for any of them. Now, both have conceived the possibility of coordinating each other’s movements, such that they never find each other at any lonely spot. But they both promptly realize this would imply negotiating and talking with each other. Vasek and Tobias would end up being friends. A preposterous possibility for both.

Vasek and Tobias blame each other. For the other’s shyness has precluded each one’s shyness to thrive.

Oh the lonely people! Where do they all come from? Not from any possible world, I am sure!

Silencio (7)

¿Qué pasaría si escribiera sin pensar?
(Para escucharse con Part, A. 'Streichquartet No.5' por Kronos)

Tan tan, tan tan,
Tan tan, tan tan,

Quiero escribir como Arvo Part. Pero no puedo pensar. Pero no puedo pensar. Tan tan tan tan. Tan tan tan tan. Por aquí por allá, un sonido, una idea o algo más. No lo sé más, no lo siento más. Sigue siendo así, sigue siendo, sigue siendo así. Subo y bajo, lentamente, voy girando sin parar. Subo y bajo. Y punto. Y no hay más. Pero claro, esto no termina. Va y viene, ahora va… Y ha vuelto al fín. Con su vértigo y mareas, sigue, viene y va. Esa voz lenta, que penetra, sin siquiera taladrar. Es que esto es intraducible.

Taca, taca, taca tan
Taca taca, taca tan
Taca taca, taca taca, taca taca, taca tán….

Un dos tres cuatro,
un dos,
un dos tres cuatro,
un dos,

Muy rápido, muy rápido, no hay manera de alcanzarlo. De pronto se detiene. Lanza un lamento al aire, voltea angustiosamente, para perder el rostro, de tanto llorar. Y comienza a girar, sin el piso abandonar. Se arrastra sin hacerlo. Como si brincara paso a paso, como si apenas las puntas, de desconocidos pies, alcanzaran a hacer tierra. Y sin embargo, se arrastra. Y vuelve, vuelve, vuelve, vuelve.

No, no, no no,
no, no, no no.

Corre, corre, que no hay tiempo. Se acaba el día sin dar paso, la semana sin escribir, sin pensar ni sentir. Se acaba el mes y los demás siguen de frente. Las fechas comienzan a caer, una tras otra, compromisos olvidados, escritos sin escribir, ideas sin pensar. Y sigue y sigue, sin rezago sigue. Acaba el semestre, el año, los estudios y el trabajo. Y de pronto acaba uno, por vivir tanto.

Para caer y correr.

Corre corre,
corre corre,
corre corre,
corre.
Más más más más,
más más más más.

Para consumirlo todo, hace falta un día. No cinco años. Ni un proyecto. Ni la lotería. Qué ritmo, qué ritmaso! Vamos juntos, paso a paso, que esto no dure, ni siquiera un año.

El poetazo equivocó.
Seguramente de sintáxis forzado,
El adjetivo dislocó.

¡Quienes viven toda la vida,
sólo han perdido el tiempo,
no se han ganado el cielo,
ni imprescindibles vuelto!

En la lógica de los neutrinos
nada resulta imprescindible.

Tun, tun, tun tun,
tun, tun, tun tun.
Taca taca, taca taca,
taca taca, taca TUN!

Illusory Interpretations

A friend of mine, who knows about my intent to translate a Philosophy book from English to Spanish, told me about it. Apparently, some people (translators, philosophers, I think) believe that in order to translate someone’s work one must, first, be fully knowledgeable of the author’s philosophy. Otherwise, one will fail to translate properly certain terms or concepts, perhaps a group of them, or else. I think this view is wrong, and that it stands on a mythical view of what interpretation and translation is.

First of all, the view presupposes that interpreting and translating are radically different processes, which they are not. It is not true that interpreting and understanding an author is somehow ‘more objective’ than translating, such that, later on, your understanding serves as a proper basis for your translation.

Leading to the second problem: it presupposes a mythical view of language, a very platonic one. It presupposes, for example, that there is some such thing as English independently of English-speakers, but common to every one of them. All empirical research, however, points to the fact that every single speaker develops her own communicative strategy. Thus, as I said, to understand someone else you must already translate.

Third, and last, it presupposes a mistaken view of translation. Every translation is an interpretation of the original text, but so is any single reading of it. There is no way you can escape from this fact. Translation is not a mindless activity where you simply put words for words, signs for signs. Of course, there is no way a translation may be exactly as the original. But then again, no single reading will be exactly as the original. And so, becoming an X scholar before translating X just is a fancy, bureaucratic distinction that will not help you getting a closer translation. It will, at the most, yield a different translation (or get you a job in a Philosophy Department). Furthermore, it will perhaps give you a more biased translation given that, by then, you will have picked up more and more habits from your reading the text.

To say that one must first understand Mr.X before translating his work, is just like saying that one must first translate Mr. X before translating his work, or that one must first understand Mr. X before understanding him. It seems to me that all this is nonsense, and the kind of nonsense that someone that is trying to justify his translations as the work of higher cognition would offer. I should call it, then, arrogance.

An Argument Against Identity

A version of the identity thesis goes like this: each type/token of mental state is identical with a particular type/token of neural state. There is an important distinction between the type/token versions. Non-reductive materialists accept the token/token identity, and turn it into a contingent fact by rejecting type identity. Though this world is such that the tokens of mental states are identical with tokens of neural states, it is not necessarily so. I now think there is an interesting argument against this thesis, even in its token-token version. Of course, reductive physicalism (the thesis that all mental states are reducible to neural states) would go too.

Baltes has famously argued for a highly general account of cognitive development. His view deals with two basic causal determinants of cognitive development: biological endowment (e.g., the brain) and culture or society (e.g., family and school). His claim is that these two causal determinants follow exactly opposite directions. On the one hand, the cognitive benefits (e.g., neural capacities) we get from our biological endowment decrease through life span (e.g., human beings age). On the other hand, the cognitive benefits (e.g., knowledge, information) we get from our cultural surroundings increase (e.g., we get more and more, better and better education). It is a further claim of Baltes that the efficacy of culture in cognitive development decreases. Once humans reach the fourth age (80-85 years and beyond) there is, to put it bluntly, nothing that society (or its institutions) can do to stop decrepitude (therefore, human ontogeny is incomplete).

This decrepitude, however, is not a general one. It is mainly a biological one. Think of it this way: The peak of brain-power (i.e., memory size, processing speed, etc.) is mainly distributed between infancy and adolescence. For instance, the biggest amount of neural connections appears between 3 and 7 years of age, when the human infant is acquiring her native language. The point is, once you are 25, neural connections are not going to increase. And once you are 35, they will start shutting down. However, our cultural cognitive capacities, clearly, do not decrease. It would be just ridiculous to suggest that a 22-year-old graduate student is more capable (cognitively speaking) than a 50-year-old faculty member.

If this is so, then there is a very important property of neural states that is not a property of mental states: decrepitude. Baltes conceives of the mind in a rather Aristotelian way: it’s got a mechanics and a pragmatics. The former collapses through life span, the latter does not, in fact, it increases and thrives (of course, provided certain mechanical and social conditions). “Our reading and writing skills, educational qualifications and professional skills (…) can extend further into the life course than the mechanics.” p 373

Now, let’s go back to the identity thesis. If it is true that every token of a mental state is identical with a particular token of a neural state, then it must be the case that every property of a neural state is a property of a mental state, and vice-versa. But neural states reduce their capacities and collapse earlier in the life span than (at least) some mental states. Thus, there are some mental states that do not share all the properties of ANY neural states, namely, those that constitute our intellectual capacities. It is false that any token of a mental state is identical with a particular token of a neural state. And so is any claim to the point that the mind just is the brain, either contingently or necessarily. Eliminativism (the thesis that there are no genuinely mental states, but merely neural ones) is not even worth considering.

Reference

Baltes, Paul. “1996 Award Address: On the Incomplete Architecture of Human Ontogeny” in American Psychologist, April 1997, Vol. 52, No.4, pp.366-380

Non-conceptual content?

Sometimes it is good advice to be skeptical about baroque and highly cooked theoretical claims, and follow the ordinary use of terms and concepts to guide one’s thoughts. There have always been, and, as long as the human species keeps on being suggestible, there will always be fancy misguiding theories that catch all reflectors from Main Street. I believe that theories of the so-called ‘non-conceptual content’ are among these. Everyone seems to note the contradiction in terms. If you are a content you’d better be the content of a concept. So how can you not be conceptual? Nonetheless, non-conceptual-content friends like to think that that is a problem of meager imagination. I believe otherwise. I think there’s no such thing as non-conceptual-content. But then I have to face the famous case on behalf of my fancy opponent: you can see red26 without having the concept ‘RED26’! I think there is a simple way to accept this without being a non-conceptual-content friend. First, there is no contradiction in claiming that all representational contents are conceptual and accepting that I can represent (through my very first experience of) red26 without every having that concept BEFORE this experience. Second, the only thing you need is a theory of concepts that tells you that concepts are part of our biological endowment, something that develops through experience. So here it is, the theory we need: ‘A theory of concepts as empirical structures that are born, grow up, and reproduce’. There you go, so whenever you face a new red26 or blue34, do not worry! The chances are that a somewhat new concept is taking place. Just like when you first learned how to identify orange things some years ago. Sometimes it is good advice not to follow fancy theories, because, like many other human projects, they aim at fame, and very few else.

Hoy Descubrí

Hoy descubrí que estoy rodeado de polvo y que mi café envejece. Después de meses de cielo gris, hoy se han llevado las nubes de Ann Arbor. Es el viento, dicen por ahí. Hay mucho sol ahí afuera. Demasiado sol aquí dentro. Hay tanto que veo a detalle mis alrededores. Puedo ver, por ejemplo, el humo alarmante que se despega de los techos de las casas. Como si el sol, con paciencia y también con fuerza, absorbiera la casa palmo a palmo. Pero no sólo, también puedo ver cómo todo lo demás se está desmoronando. El sol golpea directamente en mis ojos, a través de mi ventana, pretendiendo robar mis emociones. Yo me defiendo con un pedazo de arbol, hecho papel, sobre el que he impreso lo que Xu y Carey piensan de la metafísica infantil. Sacrifico, pues, al papel por mis ojos. Es un toma y daca, una entrega justa, creo. Pero el papel sufre; lo veo partir lentamente. Veo cómo pierde inmensos trozos, masivos conjuntos de moléculas que a simple vista sólo vemos brillar camino al cielo; que a simple léxico sólo llamamos polvo. Hoy descubrí que las casas se hacen vapor y mis ojos se vuelven polvo.

Todo sería aceptable sino fuese porque, también, veo envejecer al café y taza que día con día me acompañan. Comienza joven, robusto, fuerte y sumamente placentero. Tanta es su riqueza que se permite el lujo de soltar al aire bocanadas de sí mismo. Recién servido, ¿qué puede importarle su fin? Arrogantemente me invita a probarlo, a saborearlo lacerando mi paladar con su dureza, con su pesadez y fuerza. Pero no antes termino de relatarme este placer cuando ese gran café, otrora joven, adquiere un sabor a tierra. Un sabor que, más bien, es una falta. Mi café envejece perdiéndose a sí mismo, como el papel entregándose al sol y a las inclemencias del tiempo. Comienzo a creer que el café no es amargo, sino que los tomadores han errado el propósito. El café no es lo que se toma, sino lo que se pierde al tomar. Eso que de tan duro y lleno de sabor no puede más que dejar una estela de amargura y terregal.

Hoy descubrí que estoy rodeado de café y que mi polvo envejece. Hoy descubrí que mi café está rodeado de polvo y que yo envejezco.