Physics often transforms

me into this guy:

You've studied hard; you think you've learned something; the question shifts (ever-so-slightly) and WHAM!--you know nothing.

With the help of my physics prof, Dr. Schelp, I've struggled to answer an unasked question centered around a Griffith's Electricity and Magnetism problem. They (who?) call this research. So far, I've failed to answer the question. I have learned some physics, however, and some abstractly philosophical lessons. I share one:

Physics curricula never attempt to thoroughly connect the studied physical principles with the phenomenological world. In physics class, you study laws, theorems, etc. Then, you study the mathematics necessary to apply those laws in idealized circumstances. Well, it turns out that no small gap lies between this physics-happy-land math and the math necessary to apply physical principles in more realistic (i.e. less ideal) circumstances.

I'm OK with that. I don't need to know everything right away. In fact, this revelation of the obvious instructs my understanding of physics (philosophically). Physics doesn't exist primarily as a tool for describing individual phenomenon (indeed, physics does this), but as a framework upon which to build an understanding of the material universe.

I like that. Pictures of the universe interest me more than the non-uniform distribution of surface-bound charge in a dielectric cupcake.

Writing Process

I found this note at Yeah Yeah OK Read Petty. It well describes my writing process. Excuse the French.

Book Review: Joseph Conrad's Nostromo

Obscure verbiage and enigmatic syntax cover the world of Conrad's Nostromo like a thick, bristly undergrowth. This speaks about myself and our times, not Conrad; so, I thwacked away at the undergrowth, carving a makeshift path from start to finish. I understood some part of what was there. I present to you a portion of that some part (You're getting very little, all in all. Go read the book).

The story takes place in Sulaco--a coastal town in the fictional South American country of Costaguana. As usual, Conrad paints his setting with beauty, all the while molding the tone of the story. Here's a little taste from part 1, chapter 1:

Amongst them the white head of Higuerota rises majestically upon the blue. Bare clusters of enormous rocks sprinkle with tiny black dots the smooth dome of snow. Then, as the midday sun withdraws from the gulf the shadow of the mountains, the clouds begin to roll out of the lower valleys. They swathe in sombre tatters the naked crags of precipices above the wooded slopes, hide the peaks, smoke in stormy trails across the snows of Higuerota. The Cordillera is gone from you as if it had dissolved itself into great piles of grey and black vapours that travel out slowly to seaward and vanish into thin air all along the front before the blazing heat of the day.

This rich, vibrant texture continues throughout the novel, making Nostromo a slow, but beautiful read.

Conrad also wrote astounding vibrancy into the characters of Nostromo, more so, in fact, than any other Conrad work I've read. The thematic force of "Nostromo" rests upon these diverse personalities, and, as usual, Conrad skillfully injects them with life and complexity, reflecting his profound psychological and philosophical insights. Another taste, this time about Dr. Monygham:

The doctor flung up his arms, exclaiming, 'Decoud! Decoud!' He hobbled about the room with slight, angry laughs. Many years ago both his ankles had been seriously damaged in the course of a certain investigation conducted in the castle of Sta Marta by a commission composed of military men. Their nomination had been signified to them unexpectedly at the dead of night, with scowling brow, flashing eyes, and in a tempestuous voice, by Guzman Bento. The old tyrant, maddened by one of his sudden accesses of suspicion, mingled spluttering appeals to their fidelity with imprecations and horrible menaces. The cells and casements of the castle on the hill had been already filled with prisoners. The commission was charged now with the task of discovering the iniquitous conspiracy against the Citizen-Saviour of his country.

The story often delivers through the expounded opinions of the main characters, frequently dipping into their individual histories for context. The effect: profound believability. I marvel at the novelist's art in crafting this array of personalities, complete with histories!

The world of Nostromo, depicted and populated as above, sums to the single word "corrupt". No single character escapes the reach of this corruption, no single personality triumphs over it. The most moral character lives in abject loneliness. The sentimentalist commits suicide when faced with impossibility. The materialist is hopelessly enslaved to his wealth. Even the cynic (with whom you might expect Conrad to sympathize) lives a miserable existence, hated and fearful. The "incorruptible Capitaz de Cargadores", Nostromo, the title's namesake,and, for many pages, the only hope for a happy ending, corrupts and becomes enslaved to materialism and grotesque love, a slavery ransomed by death.

Each of these characters holds a different worldview, and each worldview ultimately leads to despair. Thus, this novel casts a skeptical eye on the notion of truth, a skepticism that, I believe, arises in the faults of Conrad's own modernist worldview. In Conrad's view, an understanding of life begins with particular facts about the world. From these facts and guided by rationality the modernist builds a comprehensive look at everything that is. Conrad saw the impossibility of this endeavor. You can't create value systems, bases for good and evil, from particular facts. Conrad needed something greater than the particular facts to give meaning to them. Unfortunately, his modernist presuppositions excluded the possibility of a relevant God.

The Sacrifice of Language: Evaluation and Challenge

I said that my next post would be "The Sacrifice of Language: Implications of Deconstruction". In trying to squeeze this one out, I discovered mentions of implication in all my previous posts on the topic! So, I'll skip ahead to a brief evaluation and challenge of this philosophical/linguistic system.

I see deconstruction coming about (vaguely) like this: the caustic rational principle, homo mensura (man as measure), begins to dissolve the credibility of ideas that challenge it. Religion then becomes relegated to the realm of mysticism (at best), increasingly divorced from the sphere of intellectual life. Without the dogmas of religion breathing life into the organization of particulars, previously objective categories like morality and social ethics break down into individually and culturally relative entities.

Philosophers then noticed (appropriately, I think) that language finds its meaning in connection to complex structures and that these structures vary from culture to culture and individual to individual. The lobotomy of the spiritual from the intellectual blinded men to the possibility of some nature-external reason guiding the mechanisms of language. Without this reason to give credence to language faculties and language itself, why should we accept the possibility of real communication? How can we believe that our speaking meets any common terms in the listener? The listener may answer our sounds or letters with, "I understand." But how do we know that by "I understand" they mean what we think they mean?

Nobody takes the system this far, so here begins my critique:

1. In some limited sense, deconstruction must be true. Certainly, our individual experiences shape our perceptions.
2. Limitless deconstruction hinges upon the belief that no naturally or historically relevant God exists. By limitless deconstruction I mean the application of deconstruction to the exclusion of real communication. A theological explanation for the existence of language easily undermines limitless deconstruction.
   
3. Limitless deconstruction fundamentally deconstructs itself, thereby revealing a false premise. It would be impossible to assert the objective validity of limitless deconstruction (more directly the know-ability of limitless deconstruction), because limitless deconstruction excludes the possibility of (accessing) objective validity. The three primary premises (of which one, two, or all are false) are 1. Linguistic frameworks vary from culture to culture, individual to individual. 2. Linguistic frameworks determine the outcome of communicative effort. 3. No extra-natural reason guides linguistic mechanisms. Of these three, which should we toss? I can hardly argue with 1. and 2.

***

I call these posts "The Sacrifice of Language", because writing exhausts me. To write, I must believe the effort worthwhile. I could not write if I believed Derrida. That said, I would still like to argue a positive reason for the effort. I have ideas about this--slow and coming. But here ends, for a while, "The Sacrifice of Language" posts.

The Sacrifice of Language: Destruction and Assembly

Recall: We don't have access to absolute truth, because our thought processes depend wholesale on language, an arbitrary structure.

The Derridean syllogism:
1. Logic structures arise out of and find their application in language structures.
2. Language structures possess no intrinsic connection to absolute reality.
.: 3. Logic structures have no necessary connection to absolute reality.

No doubt, Derrida would balk at confining his ideas to logical form, so feel free to criticize me on principle (or form). This argument, as far as I can see, forms the kernel from which the whole deconstructive jungle springs.

The Derridean, having abandoned the throes of absolute truth, turns to the subjective significance of language and the systems built around it. Derrida didn't want to destroy meaning per se. He wanted to disprove the possibility of accessing absolute meaning. In this process, meaning becomes an activity, not an abstract idea. Language finds meaning in the delivery and reception. When you read a poem or hear a speaker, the meaning conveyed to your mind depends upon your subjective understanding of the individual words along with your subjective understanding of the context and implication of the words together as a whole. No interpretation can claim validity over another, because standards of validity are subjective to the individual. Cultural norms may form upon which to find some common ground for communication, but each individual retains a unique and valid "reality" from which to evaluate everything that is. If this seems strange or over-abstractual, read this perplexing definition of deconstruction, formulated by Nicholas Royle from Derrida's own words:

deconstruction n. not what you think: the experience of the impossible: what remains to be thought: a logic of destabilization always already on the move in ‘things themselves’: what makes every identity at once itself an different from itself: a logic of spectrality: a theoretical and practical parasitism or virology: what is happening today in what is called society, politics, diplomacy, economics, historical reality, and so on: the opening of the future itself. (Royle, p11)

Assembly finds place in the title of this post for reasons already mentioned: the deconstructionist, having disassembled the possibility of communicating absolute truth, assembles spectral meanings within an individual or cultural framework. This cleverly obtuse shift in philosophical paradigm has far-reaching implications for all of life.

Royle, Nicholas. "What is Deconstruction?" Deconstruction. Ed. Nicholas Royle. New York: Palgrave, 2000

Next Post: The Sacrifice of Language: Implications of Deconstruction

The Sacrifice of Language: Disassembly

And so the logic goes. If language unavoidably entangles with thought, then the outcomes of reasoning depend to some degree upon the language structures which facilitate reasoning. This is an old story, so I'm sure you know how it goes. I point out (along with Derrida) that language boasts no fundamental connection to the object signified. E.g., the link between the symbols (or sounds) "pond" and the soggy patch behind my house is arbitrary. From this observation the Derridean concludes that all of thought must also be arbitrary with respect to reality. We cannot derive facts about reality from our logic because our logic depends upon an arbitrary system, i.e., language.

The string doesn't necessitate this conclusion. In fact, there's a much better way.

More to come, hopefully.

The Sacrifice of Language Cont'd

People write many words. Some write about their jobs, some their churches, their children, cooking, etc. No one just writes. Language exists to serve us in the expression and exploration of ideas, ideas greater than language itself. The pasty, pale earth delivered by drought to the pond behind my house stands taller than the words which describe it. The dying empire of frogs banded around that dying pond exists whether I put it into words or no.

But a funny thing has happened. Language has penetrated and fused itself with the thought process. I cannot contemplate the significance of my dying pond apart from language in my head. So, language exists for the "exploration of ideas". Language gives us the categories for making sense of what we see and hear. Without it, we'd be sunk. This deserves more convincing. I leave it to the reader to attempt an a-lingual thought.

More to come, hopefully.