We Do Know When We're Awake, But How?

The first premise of the "dream argument", namely that I don’t know that I’m not dreaming now, is tricky. When we dream, we can think that we’re not dreaming and that we're actually awake – but when we are awake and in our normal mode of comportment (i.e. not still in a dream state or under hypnosis) we don’t tend to doubt whether or not we’re dreaming.

The motivation for this premise is that in dreams we can’t tell, so therefore in reality we shouldn’t be able to tell either. If we start from the proposition that there is a difference between dreaming and reality, and we state that in dreams we are sometimes fooled into believing that we’re awake, then it seems to suggest that there is nothing to appeal to in our waking state to yield knowledge that we’re not still dreaming. The illusion of awakeness, presumably, can be generated by the brain.

But it remains a matter of empirical fact that we normally don’t think we’re still dreaming when we’re awake - indeed many of us would be willing to wager that we are actually awake when asked. Why do we have this sense of conviction? And why do we never think we’re still dreaming when we’re awake? I have a feeling there is something ontologically significant about this conviction, but that perhaps it is not graspable in the mode of propositional knowledge. I myself had an experience not too long ago where something quite strange occured in my own daily life. It caused me to ask "am I still dreaming?", which prompted me to become irrefutably aware of my own being awake. When pushed for reasons as to how I knew, I could not give any.

In any case, the point remains – it is only whilst dreaming that you can be fooled into thinking you are awake, so therefore there must be something about the dream state which enables you to be able to be fooled. Conversely, there must be something about the waking state which means that some change in circumstance along the lines of hypnosis would have to be invoked in order to alleviate the certainty of its effect. We will call, for the sake of simplicity, the condition (whatever it is) of certainty that you are awake when you are in fact awake: “X”. X therefore stands for the necessary and sufficient condition of our firm conviction that in our waking state we are awake.

When we are asleep, we lack condition X (as X is such that having it guarantees the truth and conviction that one is awake) and therefore it cannot be through X that we come to be fooled into believing we are awake when we are still in fact asleep. Now, we can come to believe in the truth of all kinds of illusions, but to mistake the entirety of your dream experience for reality is something quite spectacular! Why we become lucid in dreams is a contentious area, and I regret that I won’t be able to think about it too much here. Let it simply suffice to say that when we are in fact awake we never doubt that we are, ceteris paribus, and that we can infer from this that there is some truth-conducive condition in the waking state which resists even the doubts of the philosopher.

Now it might be objected that we’re simply helping ourselves to the conviction of the truth of the waking state, and that condition X is simply a condition which marks out the line between a dream state, and a state of dreaming within a dream. To expand this, we see that the idea rests on the objection that it remains possible that even our waking states are all dreams, and any dreams we do have are simply dreams inside of dreams.

If this objection is found to be significant, then our condition X is useless for guaranteeing awakeness as it (at best) helps us determine which level of dream-state we are in, but does not at all guarantee the truth of awakeness which we’re taking it to guarantee. However there is a looming semantic difficulty in all of this, so let’s make our terms absolutely clear. We will call A the “waking state” - so whether you believe it is a dream or not, let A stand for what we normally call the waking state. D will stand for the type of dream we have as a result of going to sleep following an exhausting A-state day. Lastly, let A* count for our hypothetical “real awakeness” – the kind of awakeness we would have should we awake from our A-state, if the A-state does turn out to be a dream after all.

So if being part of the A-state is necessary and sufficient for condition X, then as a result of this relation to the A-state it allows us to differentiate between being in it and being in the D-state if and only if we are in fact in the A-state. The answer it allows us to give when we’re asking “how do you know if you are not dreaming” is an answer to the question “how do you know that you are not in the D-state?” In which case, condition X allows us to discern between dreaming and being “awake” in so far as dreaming points to the D-state while being awake points to the A-state. However, if what you mean by dreaming is being in the A-state, the kind of state you go into when you fall asleep in the A*-state, then condition X will not be of very much help. However, positing the possibility of an A*-state is not just something we can do without requiring justification!

It’s a fact that our dreams refer to our waking state (so the content of D-states refers to and is in some sense dependent on content apprehended in the A-state) – so why is it that our A-state seems not to have any other referent? If we are inferring the possible existence of an A*-state from our experience of the relation of A-states and D-states, then why should we not require an analogous referential relationship of the sort observed between A-states and D-states in the proposed relationship between A*-states and A-states? Would we not carry in our A-state some residue of our A*-states? Would there not be some inter-referential content which we would causally depend upon experiences in our A*-state, as there is (fundamentally only) inter-referential content from our A-states when we are in a D-state? Does the absence of this referential condition not cast considerable doubt on the reasons for positing the existence of an A*-state?

I suggest that by positing the possibility of an A*-state through knowledge of the relation between A-states and D-states we also posit the necessity of the type of relation the A-state and D-state have. If this relation is not observed then inferring it by analogy will not work as the type of relation we’re proposing the A*-state and A-state to have is not analogous to the A-state and D-state. This is troublesome as it is precisely this relation which gives the notion of an A*-state its plausibility. So if the conditions which maintain between A-states and D-states are not observed between any hypothetical A*-state and the A-state then we’re not justified in believing in the existence of an A*-state by this analogous reasoning.

Being awake is not like dreaming. We experience things we’ve never experienced before in our waking state, we apprehend the content which our dream states must paint a picture with. Cutting right to the chase, we stand in an entirely different relation to beings when we’re awake. In dreaming we might experience some pretty wild stuff – like flying and other things we consider to be impossible. But everything in the dream is significant by virtue of its significance in the waking state – the world we experience when we dream is a manifestation of our implicit understanding of the world whilst being awake.

Consider how even our wildest fantasies cannot escape being a variation, or particular instance, of our fundamental grasp of being. Hubert Dreyfus makes a very similar point about how in science fiction we can only think up variations on our own world, and not something truly alien. Flying, for example, is a normative but not ontological impossibility and therefore does not count as something alien to our understanding. The things which the worlds of sci-fi are populated with are ontologically similar to our own (as in the same sorts of relationships maintain between the entities and roles of things in that fictional world than do in our own) but are nonetheless ontically distinct, as the things which fill in those roles are different. Transports become flying cars and spaceships, habitats become lunar colonies, and so on. The fundamental relationship to beings which maintains in the A-state is, I think, the clue to substantiating the "X" condition and rendering it thematically.

Some Tentative Principles of Government & Industry

Government and private industry should be separated as far as possible to ensure the preservation of a harmony of checks and balances, and to discourage the inevitable formation of a political-financial elite who threaten, as industry continues to commodify anything which could potentially fetch a price in the market, to eventually dominate all aspects of social and extra-social discourse.

Private companies who control areas of social discourse have a hand in something potentially useful to government (social networking sites functioning as a rough and ready global surveillance technology, the mass media monopoly of information, military technology, etc.) and so the incentive to form a relationship is discovered. Private industry, on the other hand, is restricted by economic, social, and foreign policy – the complementary principle of a political-financial elite lies here.

The terms of co-operation are more straightforward than those which hold in any other inter-social relationship (such as those which hold between NGO’s and the media). This is because private industry controls a large region of social discourse, and the government controls the rules which underlie it. If it is found to be in mutual accord that an action be taken which violates the rules of social discourse, private industry anticipates no retribution for their breach of social contract as they are working in reciprocity with the primary legislative body who as a result find themselves protected (to varying degrees) against any incursions from private industry.

Notes on the Socratic Method

In the Meno, Socrates makes the sensible observation that in order for us to ask how virtue is acquired, we must first of all know what virtue is. The hermeneutic circle problem immediately pierces into the discussion, which is to say that in order to enquire as to what virtue is we must already know something about virtue. There is some tacit understanding of "X" built into our enquiries, resulting from the requirement of some form of knowledge or understanding (this distinction will be important) of "X" in order that we are enabled to intend to acquire a deeper or more explicit grasp of it.

The Elenchus, or Socratic method, attempts to draw these understandings out of Socrates’ interlocutors. At this point it’ll be helpful to reiterate that Socrates holds to an epistemic interpretation referred to as anamnesis, which means loss of forgetfulness, or remembering. The idea which Socrates’ investigations are based on is that we have a priori knowledge of what virtue is, and that by asking people questions and cross-examining contradictions which they have in their beliefs, we can approximate closer to what a virtue is.

In relying on non-contradiction in this way Socrates is holding a moral objectivist stance – believing that there is an answer which we all know in some sense, as to what virtue is, and that contradictions will reveal beliefs which cannot both be true simultaneously, and in this way bring us closer to the proper definition (assuming that the law of non-contradiction is ontologically sound). As noted in the Irwin commentary, Socrates must also assume that the judgements made by the interlocutors are sound judgements – which is to say that their judgements capture or approximate what is real (the Greek understanding of truth is “aletheia” which literally means uncovering or disclosing – there is no representationalist account of truth, we do not “create” truth as in subjectivism, but bring it out of concealment).

However, if we have two contradictory definitions of virtue, we’ll call them A and ¬A, both of which are in similar epistemic standing (which is to say that the reasons for doing away with one are as good as the reasons for doing away with the other) – which one are we to assume? What is there to privilege one definition over the other? If we can find no reason, then we cannot formulate an objective definition of virtue.

The term virtue itself originates from “virtutem” which means excellence, moral strength, or value. But what makes something morally sound, excellent, or valuable? We normally consider these words as casting light on a region of human experience vulnerable to the caprice of “subjectivity”. Morality itself is a contingency of an historical sort: the ethics of an era are essentially caught within that era and whatever the projected aim of a given culture, the morality will reflect and guide its conduct. Chinese Legalism, for example, considers human beings as evil and prescribes the use of laws to control them. More liberal societies, however, will put more trust in the conduct of individuals, encouraging free market capitalism and so on.

Anthropologist Pierre Bourdieu notes that social conduct is learned through imitation of bodily gestures, and crystallised firstly in the modes of conduct which engage parent and child. These gestures are not always conceptually explicit, and cannot be taught by manner of textbook and powerpoint. They persist in the pre-theoretical sphere. It’s not important to get into too much depth with this point, and will be sufficient to understand, simply, that the projected aims of a culture inform its moral conduct and therefore what it is to be virtuous.

To return to the hermeneutic circle I mentioned earlier, Socrates asked how we can enquire into what virtue is without having an a priori understanding of it. Heidegger was also inspired by this particular problem in the Meno, and points out that our theoretical knowledge, which is to say our explicit, conceptual definition of what things are, is something wholly different to the kind of a priori knowledge both philosophers envisage. I expect Socrates himself would have granted his ascent to this point, but how the two philosophers consider the a priori is sharply different.

The Irwin commentary again illumines further similarities between Heidegger and Socrates in noting that Socrates believed that speaking of particular instances of virtue do not show knowledge of what a given virtue is. The distinction he draws is one Heidegger elsewhere draws himself, between the ontic (for Socrates this is the particular instance of a virtue, e.g. braveness in combat) and ontological (what a virtue is, the a priori understanding of, e.g. bravery).

Now, both philosophers see truth as some form of uncovering what is already there (“aletheia” in Heidegger’s borrowed Greek terminology, or “anamnesis” in the Socratic paradigm) which distinguishes truth from a subjectivist account, believing we bring out of concealment something concealed but nonetheless existent, rather than bringing things into existence. However, where they differ is that Heidegger believes our pre-theoretical knowledge of what virtue is originates in our socialised mode of being in the world. To put this simply, our tacit (a priori) understanding of what virtue is, which allows us to make this idea of virtue explicit, is not something given outside of human conduct but something which is essentially grounded by it. The Elenchus may reveal, through use of non-contradiction, the definition of virtue which stands for a historically grounded culture and its mode of being – but contrary to moral objectivism, will not provide a definition of morality which will stand for all possible historical cultures.

A further point of departure for the two is that Socrates believes someone must possess theoretical knowledge of what it is to be virtuous, in order to be virtuous at all. Heidegger, on the other hands, speaks of levels of understanding which cannot (and often should not) be made explicitly conscious. To act virtuously under an a priori understanding of virtue, without mental content correlative to the intentional act, is to act virtuously nonetheless (on my reading, anyhow). However, Socrates sees this as merely "accidental" virtue - as we must possess explicit theoretical knowledge that we are acting virtuously in order to count as behaving so. I believe Socrates is prejudicing explicit knowledge over unconscious understanding here, and is doing so without justification.

The specific conduct of one considered virtuous, or acting morally, depends upon a contingent pre-theoretical understanding of what virtue is (or "must be" for that culture) but is otherwise meaningless outside of that nexus. While Heidegger does not wish to demote aletheia to an insipid subjectivism, it does not follow from this that an understanding of the Elenchus in light of hermeneutic phenomenology implies that virtue is something which exists over and above this nexus. Virtue is grounded in social conduct, and so it is only this which is revealed through Socrates’ cross-examinations, and not some approximation to a concrete definition of what is virtuous.

sum forts on objecthud

I spent some time earlier this summer puzzling over what an object is, or more precisely how we come to consider an object as an object. As a realist I naturally felt inclined to commit to a theory of objects which didn’t result in the type of psychologism we risk falling into when shown vague or seemingly subjective results.

I figured it was important to go back to the original region of experience where we come across objects in our daily lives (intentionality). Having approached some objects myself to get a feel for it, I noticed that there was a unity behind each “object” I apprehended, and that this unity was most definitely something about the object and not a projection I made onto it. My awesome 2.1’s, for example, have a functional unity – they’re made for, and perform a certain task. My books also, designed for the purpose of reading and standing on my shelf in a self-supporting repose.

An acquaintance from a philosophy seminar some time during year one, when arguing for the non-existence of a priori knowledge asked the class what sense the number six could make in a universe of only one object. I considered for a while, but then I realised the nature of the problem. If there is one thing in this universe, let’s say it’s a speaker, is the speaker not made of components which can be considered as objects in their own right? Further still, is the speaker not composed of atoms which can also be considered as objects? And how many of those are there? Loadz.

But what I thought next was that there was a common thread running through my conceptual headaches, something there I wasn’t grasping - occluded by my mortal idiocy. Then I finally saw it staring at me with mocking eyes and a “did it really take you that long?” expression seared into the lines on its face. The unity of function and the disclosure of parts were two sides of the same coin. One thing, like my speaker, has different aspects of intentionality which to some degree exclude one another (like a necker cube), and therefore different aspects of its being are being presented (as a speaker, as a composite of other objects i.e. it's components, and as atoms) as a result of a given agent's intentionality.

If we are concerned with listening to music, we see the speaker as a speaker – as a functional unity owing to our intentionality (wanting to listen to some tunes). However, if the speaker has a fault, suddenly we consider this once unitary object as a composite of objects whose presence was previously “smoothed down by equipmentality”, to borrow a phrase from Marty H. We start considering different functional unities as objects themselves when trying to isolate the fault. Or, if we’re physicists with an electron microscope, suddenly the unities of these components are broken down further into atoms.

Now you might object that the components of a thing are simply parts, and not objects by themselves, as their functional unity makes reference to the whole object. However, we consider trees as objects, even leaves and branches as objects - but because of the nature of the directedness which discloses them as standing by themselves, there lies concealed within them a part-like nature. Are they after all not part of an eco-system which, if you were so inclined, could be considered a thing wholly in itself?

However, most people consider ecosystems to be composites of objects, and not objects themselves. This, again, is rooted in intentionality - as we're not simply glazing over the ecosystem as a whole like we would with a speaker or a lighter. The nature of our typical directedness towards an ecosystem considers it as a composite of parts (where the parts are themselves not discreet but stand in evidence). However if we were to grasp the ecosystem in relation to another ecosystem (for some sort of study, say) then we consider both as single things.

I say then that the origin of objecthood is in directedness. The objects are as one, as several, or as millions simultaneously, and whichever one you see is rooted in the simplest place: what you’re doing or what you want to do. As the different objects are not “mind dependent” phenomena in the sense of psychologism, they are genuinely existent features of the universe. However, their objecthood and their systematisation is rooted in our mode of being (what we’re up to). An object is, therefore, whatever you will it to be within the scope of possibilities determined by the particular nature of the object of your directedness (which is to say it's not possible to use a hamburger as a sanitary towel or anti-perspirant).

The War on "X"

In "Twilight of the Idols" Nietzsche outlines The Four Great Errors, one of which is mistaking cause for effect. An example he gives is the opinion that a political party were bound to fall following a terrible policy decision. Nietzsche says that rather the party had already fallen by the time they had become such that they were capable of making bad policy. The thrust behind this idea is that the decision was based on a flawed character - they had to make the policy themselves didn't they? It was no influence from without which had corrupted them, it came from within them.

Consider that the same error is made when creating drug policy - driving the so called "war on drugs". The reason given to the masses is that drugs harm society, by causing addiction, health problems, thievery, violence, vandalism and so on. Quite aside from the fact that alcohol and nicotine, causes of addiction, health problems, thievery, violence, vandalism and so on, are legal and advertised drugs (a fact which seems to need constant reiteration) there is yet another more original error lying at the heart of the war on drugs.

It's said that for every one person chopping at the root of evil, there are a hundred more merely chopping at the branches (I'm uncomfortable using the term "evil" - it's inclusion here is merely colloquial). It often strikes me how much the media and government are keen to chop at the branches, the derivative phenomena of much deeper problems, without ever getting to the core. The bottom line is, millions of people the world over use drugs recreationally and only some of these people go on to form addictions. What gives?

It's common knowledge that morphine is used in hospitals to provide relief for patients suffering in pain. If the addict had not some wound of their own to nurse, what need would they have for the release of heroin? Just as the political party who are already finished by the time they are in a position to generate bad policy, so too is it that drugs do not cause addiction, but rather that people have pre-existent pains and that drugs are how they go about responding to them.

It might be objected that were it not for drugs, the troubled would not become addicts and would therefore not have need for recourse to theft or violence in order to acquire a fix. The thought is somewhat similar to the causal elements acting upon a stationary object involving two equal and opposing forces, bringing it to a spatial "stalemate". By analogy, the psychological damage is one force and the availability of drugs is the other - both acting upon the agent in order to create their addictive condition.

However, the "forces analogy" does not share the same character as drug addiction. If we are to explain a phenomenon by its anterior causes, then it must be remembered that the psychological damage is the most original cause. It is possible to casually use drugs and not become addicted, therefore we must think of what other factors are causing addiction if drug use alone does not lead inexorably towards it. The addictive state is the manifestation of already present psychological damage, which is present in many people with or without the use of drugs. Granted it would not be possible to become addicted to heroin without access to it, but will prohibiting substances wholesale lead to a solution for the original problem? Not even close.

Instead of waging war on drugs, or on terrorism, or any of the other distracting phantoms created by media and government (which have resulted in the undue prosecution of recreational drug users, the deaths of innocent terror suspects, and many more) should we not rather focus on the original conditions which cause and thereby explain these phenomena?