waste

Nescire aude.

A technique that was old before it became avant-garde

Here is the description of the procedure in Steve McCaffery's "Dark Ladies" (nb link goes to a PDF download):

The Dark Ladies emerged from the deletion then reconstruction of Shakespeare's sonnets. Only the end-rhymes and their sequence are retained, italicized [except in at least one case] and embedded throughout the freely reconstructed poems. Each poem comprises two versions of each sonnet, [sic] the first, preserves the end-rhymes in reverse order; the second in their proper one. I allowed myself the liberty of removing some archaicisms and replacing them with their current synonyms; hence "thou" becomes "you" and "becomest" becomes "becomes".

One can question the aptness of the word "reconstructions" there, and also, I think, the interest of the reconstructions; after all, it's not too hard to write to a list, even if the items in the list have to appear in order. But the interest is diminished not only because the content of the reconstructions is so hodgepodge and is somewhat incoherent, but also because a very similar idea has been seen before, with niftier results, too.

November 04, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Richer psychological vocabulary desired

It is very tiresome to have that which an addict has for the thing to which he is addicted, hunger, my desire to have a stove with further-apart and larger ranges, and my desire to peel the beets which I have cooked so that I can eat them (what the final clause is attached to is ambiguous, but really it's accurate in either case) reduced to the same category, whether "desire", "drive", or, in a vague nod to the idea that there might in fact be differences among them, "pro-attitude" (something that still at least makes them all out to be attitudes), subsequent on which it is assumed that they all operate pretty much the same way—a tendency that has made it almost impossible for me to take seriously philosophical arguments about addicts, willing or otherwise, given the ham-handedness with which the phenomena of addiction are treated. Or seem to be, anyway: my experience with substances generally recognized to be addictive, other than alcohol, is pretty much nil, but a similarly-minded friend who has quit smoking several times agreed to the proposition that in addiction the (or a) issue is not that one has particularly strong desires for cigarettes but that as it were one's will is corrupted; one hasn't the ability to deny desires for cigarettes. (In fact this fits well with Nietzsche's definition of weakness of the will as the inability not to act on a stimulus—which doesn't require that the stimulus be very strong, even if we think that someone's will can be weaker with regard to some objects than to others.) Moreover—something that Sarah Buss at least has thankfully pointed out—succumbing to such a desire is still your action; it isn't actually an alien force—doesn't drag you around and move your hand into the pack for you—even if you might wish that you didn't have such desires. that they weren't so insistent, or that smoking hadn't become quasi-needful for you. (I mean, we are talking about a dependency.)

The cost of the absence of subtle descriptions and subtle words can be seen when (for instance) someone describes high-functioning alcoholics as those in whom a drive for consuming alcohol (which is what alcoholics are said to have—a drive, like any other, except very strong, for drinking alcohol) has "mastered" other drives, where such mastery "consists of one drives' beign predominant, but still allowing other drives expression. In other words, drive A masters drives B and C when A becomes stronger than B and C, and modulates the expression of B and C, yet does not weaken or eliminate B and C" (this is Katsafanas, "The Concept of Unified Agency in Nietzsche, Plato, and Schiller"). Of course "allowing other drives expression" cannot mean here something agentially flavored, something that might be glossed as "suffering them to be expressed": at best it can be something like: this drive does not prevent or exclude the expression of the others. No gloss has yet been given for one drive's being stronger than another; it would be implausible to think that A being stronger than B meant that one always acted in accordance with the former rather than the latter whenever one could only do one of the two, so I assume it's something on the order of acting in accordance with the stronger drive when there's an issue of which of the two drives will prevail. On the one hand: this allows us the reasonable possibility that a drive might be momentarily satisfied and thus not contest other drives even if action in accordance with it is still possible. On the other: it seems to make fatigue and thirst, to say nothing of the drive associated with (*ahem*) fecal urgency, into drives that (in most of us) have mastered all other drives.

Katsafanas notes that high-functioning alcoholics "maintain stable and successful lives" and says that they "have rich arrays of passions and drives that are subordinated to, but not weakened or extirpated by, their craving for alcohol". But why should we think that this claim of subordination is correct—that the alcoholic will go to his weekly bridge game, but not until he's had a drink, because the desire to play bridge is subordinate to his desire to have a drink? (I've said "desire" in part because talking about a drive to play bridge is a little too too.) Why not think precisely the opposite: his desire to have a drink is subordinated to his desire to play bridge in the way that his desire to drive to the place where the game takes place is subordinated to the desire to play bridge? That he can't do it without having a drink first. That wouldn't mean that the drive to drink is stronger than the drive to sociability, it would mean that drinking has become a necessary step in the pursuit of other ends. (You could try to make it out that this is the drive for drink's "modulation" of the drive for sociability, but I think we should be becoming skeptical of talk of a "drive for drink" at all. Katsafanas also speaks of a "craving for alcohol", which strikes me as something different again. It also seems forced to talk of a modulation here; the expression of the drive to sociability remains the same: playing the weekly bridge game. It's just become that much harder to actually do it. Similarly (or at worst, similarly forced): when the bus routes change, that doesn't modulate the expression of the drive to sociability, it just means he has to figure out afresh how to get to the game.) Katsafanas even quotes Hemingway to apparently this effect: "You wake up in the night and things are unbearable and you take a drink and make them bearable." This doesn't seem to be the expression of a drive to drink; it's an expression (as Katsafanas notes) of a dependency on alcohol to do other things. Alcoholism being what it is, the need to consume alcohol to do anything eventually becomes an inability to do anything because of the alcohol consumed (I am told that heroin isn't like this and that if you can secure a good supply it is, considered in itself, basically free from ill effects, but I have no idea how true that is): which Katsafanas is forced to describe, bafflingly, as the drive "extirpat[ing] or severely weaken[ing] competing drives" (the hallmark of a drive's tyrannizing rather than mastering another). Whereas it seems to be the result of two things: (a) when one is constantly trashed, it is hard to maintain other interests, and even the most iron-livered will eventually reach the limits of their tolerance; (b) when what it takes to meet one drive (theoretically, in order to be able to get on with one's life) keeps increasing, one can do less and less by way of getting on with one's life. What is happening here is that the other drives are dying on the vine, not that the drive to drink is weakening them. (Not all becoming-weaks are being-weakeneds.) If we must persist in identifying what the alcoholic undergoes as a drive on a par with all others.

August 22, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (1)

Enthusiasm for reflexivity

At some point when I wasn't paying attention Velleman's "The Way of the Wanton" was published; rereading it now I'm struck by two (very Vellish) points about reflexive desires that seem completely unjustified. One is offered apparently as an obiter dictum: Velleman identifies the two desires that the famous "willing addict" has as "his addictive urge to take the drug and a desire that he take the drug because of that urge, which is a desire for himself to take the drug and hence a reflexive desire to take it." (p 175 of Practical Identity and Narrative Agency). If the referent of "which" is the "addictive urge to take the drug", then one wishes to say of the reflexive pronoun in the later exposition of its content what Baier said of Chisholm's ever-present agent, namely, that it is somewhat over-advertised, or anyway too much is being made of it; if I have the urge to take a drug, then indeed the urge is for me to take it, not for you to. If that is sufficient to make it a reflexive desire then all desires that aren't targeted at someone else are reflexive. (Whereas it seems more natural to me to call only the desires that involve oneself as another reflexive. One half suspects that here the absence of something like Latin's ipse is felt: I want to take the drugs myself, not, I want myself to take the drugs. (Where the "myself"s would be Latinized respectively as ipse and me.) Velleman's phrasing is more in line with the latter but also more in line with the oneself-as-another reading, and that reading is not at all forced by the example.) If, on the other hand, the "which" refers to the desire that he take the drug because of the addictive urge, it is still unclear where the reflexivity comes in; a desire that I φ because of p is indeed a desire that I φ; why (hence) it should be a reflexive desire to take it is beyond my ken.

Later on the same page Velleman writes:

This explanation necessitates a subtle clarification about the content of second-order volitions. A second-order volition that one be effectively moved by a first-order desire cannot have the content that one be effectively moved by the first-order desire alone. The content of a second-order volition must be that one be effectively moved by the first-order desire as reinforced by this very volition. Otherwise, the volition would tend to be self-frustrating.

It would be self-frustrating because if I desired to be effectively moved by the desire to φ alone, either (a) the first desire would not be effective, or (b) it would be effective in which case I would not have φed owing to the desire to φ alone. This does not at all establish that a second-order volition must be one that runs "φ because effectively moved by the first-order desire to do so as reinforced by this very volition", because I could have a second-order volition that runs "φ because effectively moved by the first-order desire to do so". We can agree that a second-order volition can't have the content "be effectively moved by the first-order desire alone", but it can have the content "be effectively moved by the first-order desire" alone.

(Of course my head swims when the topic of self-referential mental states comes up; how—I wonder—do they get their content at all? One is brought to imagine some kind of mental fixed-point combinator, but even those only work by stages, and what could account for the first stage? Harman has addressed this at various points but nowhere in a way that rids me of my confusion.)

August 12, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Brief comments on beginning

Here is a thesis that is discussed a bit these days: to intend, or to have formed the intention, to $\^H^Hφ is already to be φing. One sees it in, for instance, "Naïve Action Theory"; Korsgaard endorses it (and her argument for it in Self-Constitution is breezy in a way all too typical of that book), as do, apparently, Moran & Stone, each of K, M and S crediting Luca F/rrero (M & S citing a paper that apparently no longer exists in the form it did when it was cited, and which Luca has been saying he'll show me for over three years—so who knows if he thinks it). It is also occasionally attributed to Wilson.

I have opinions about this! In particular, I think that Thompson's argument is totally unconvincing and that the view's attribution to Wilson is incorrect; Wilson has a related, but different and much less implausible, position. (Actually I think the question of Thompson's commitment to it is less clearly decidable than one might guess, because of his extended analogy to different economic forms, but I'm not sure whether he means the analogy to work that way.) Thompson writes:

The use of temporal designators in "I'm doing A tomorrow (or in a minute, or on Tuesday, or when Hector arrives" is subordinate to the imperfective aspect that is here reckoned as strictly present; it is no different from the use of temporal designators in "I want to do A tomorrow", and any contradiction to which it tends is the 'contradiction' present in "I want to do A, but I don't want to do it now". (p 140 of Life and Action, italics in original)

On the next page he states that "'anticipatory' uses of the progressive are really no different from … uses `in hiatus'". Now I think he is right about uses 'in hiatus', and that, as he has said elsewhere, "it is a mistake to look, at each moment, … for something in which the progress might be supposed to consist" (Wilson, IIRC, uses the spreading of a crack through freeze/thaw cycles as an example here). But it is still reasonable to insist that there be occasional events constituting progress, and if the gap between them is too large one will be inclined to think, not that the same process was ongoing all along, but that one stopped and another picked up where the previous left off. (One might think that in writing this post I am blogging again, not still.) And it is a fair question, one not answered by Thompson's claims about temporal designators, whether having made a decision is such an event, or whether it is a preliminary to such an event, or what.

The claims about temporal designators are anyway quite strange: what sense could it possibly make to say that the aspect of a sentence is present? The dimensions of tense and aspect are orthogonal (something of which one would have thought Thompson was aware); in any case, the present tense of a sentence does not at all indicate that it is concerned with present time. Consider the following present-tense sentences, which discuss past time, present time, no time in particular, and future time:

  1. So it's last Tuesday, right, and I'm sitting there minding my own business when all of a sudden Mabel comes in and she's yammering on about god knows what, and now I can't concentrate anymore, so I get up and leave, and I'm just heading out the door when wham! she whacks me over the head with a table leg!
  2. I am sitting in a room.
  3. Potatoes are healthful.
  4. I will sit in that room tomorrow.

Since English has no future tense, it had better be possible to use some other tense it does have to talk about future time. And temporal adverbs are a way of doing that; we distinguish between what I'm doing today and what I'm doing tomorrow as statements about different times using the same tense. A statement about a present desire for a future action is comprehensible, since the desire is had now, and the future action is conceived as something that has not yet been begun but (it is desired) will commence in the future. As Thompson requires it to be understood, "I am doing A tomorrow" involves no such separation (and a statement such as "I'm doing A all day tomorrow, then on Thursday I'm going to the beach" threatens to become nearly incomprehensible—the question also arises what statement about the weather is made when I say "it's going to rain tomorrow").

Wilson does say some things that seem to amount to a Thompson-like position, in particular this:

[T]he thesis I wish to develop is this: if Flannery is intending to φ (i.e., Flannery intends to do φ), then Flannery is in the course of intending to φ. That is to say, Flannery is in the course ofa ctivity that is intended to φ where, finally, this means that Flannery is in the course of activity each step of which is, will, or would be intended to lead to her future φing. (p 224 of The Intentionality of Human Action, italics in original)

Nothing he says here, however, requires that we interpret "intended to lead to her future φing" in such a way that Flannery's activity is already a part of the φing (giving "φing" something akin to a success reading: her having φed). Elsewhere he writes that "planning in connection with my possible future φing is also, as a rule, intended to promote that φing" (p 225) and speaks of the activity associated with intending as "intended to lead to φing" (p 222), which also do not compel a Thompson-like reading. Better, I think, to take Wilson to be suggesting that intending to φ is a process related to, and leading up to, a future φing, but not the same as that φing. (Landman, in his article "The Progressive", reaches a somewhat similar position, saying "I will allow the possibility that [actions] start with what could be called a planning stage, where the process hasn't properly started yet" (p 24).) Part of the idea is that there is no such thing as utterly pure intending, which has no overt manifestations at all; while Wilson will allow (anticipating Thompson's comments about silence in music) that "I may be intending to φ [n.b. not φing] throughout a period p while doing very little" and that "the period p may be almost as thin as one likes with φ-directed activity" (p 225), but it can't be empty. Otherwise one has, at best, an idle wish to φ.

This is controverted: "What about plans for tomorrow that require no preparatory steps, as for instance, to blink at 3:00pm? Isn't some intending utterly pure, as Davidson thought?" But it is far from clear that a plan to blink at 3pm tomorrow requires no preparatory steps. Actually blinking at 3pm tomorrow does not, if it's just a fact that I do then blink; but if I intend to blink at 3pm tomorrow I had better be prepared to answer the question, "how?". Answers could be, for instance: "I set an alarm for 2:59 and wrote 'BLINK' on my hand"; "I'm just going to blink all day"; "I have an excellent memory and an excellent sense of time so I can just do these things". Even in the last case I think we must imagine that I will occasionally compare the time it is now to 3pm: my sense of time is something I will use, not something that will automatically cause me to blink; likewise the excellence of my memory means that I won't have to have written myself a note to keep myself on track. Well: I might indeed mean with the last claim something like "I just will blink then, given that I have formed the intention now"—a situation in which the eventual action, to steal a metaphor from Velleman (in "Deciding How To Decide"), stands to the intention-formation as the explosion of a bomb does to the lighting of its fuse. But we would still have a preparatory step: namely, the lighting of the fuse. Arguably, such lighting is all I intentionally do in this situation: likewise, I don't intentionally wake up when my alarm goes off, though I do intentionally set it so that I will wake up when it goes off. And setting the alarm was a necessary preliminary.

July 15, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

More of the same

Indeed, in "Formen des Scheiterns, Tadel, und Entschuldigung" et seq we get a little more on the topic, but at least one aspect of what Kern says in the named section is a little confusing. First she offers us three cases of privation that "together articulate the sense which the claim that being fallible is a formal characteristic of these capabilities" [why did I translate this when I have no intention of translating what follows? I have an idea, actually!]:

  1. Jemand hat den sinnlichen Eindruck, daß p, ohne wahrzunehmen, daß p. Jemand hört einen anderen sagen, daß p, ohen von einem anderen zu erfarhen, daß p.

  2. Jemand glaubt, wahrzunehmen, daß p, ohne wahrzunehmen, daß p. [likewise for hearsay]

  3. Jemand nimmt wahr, daß p, ohne zu glauben und also zu wissen, daß p. [likewise for hearsay]

The last example is supposed to explain situations like this (this is Kern's example): the parents of a child don't believe it when their child says there's a fire in the house, because the child is constantly saying just that, falsely; this time he is saying it truly, and so there is an opportunity for the parents to gain knowledge that there is a fire, which they do not take because they are in reflectively unfavorable circumstances—that is, the circumstances in this case are favorable, but there is reason for the parents to think that they are not favorable.

This is confusing, however. In what sense, in this boy-who-cried-wolf scenario, are the circumstances actually favorable—at least if we want to maintain the claim that the person in the barn-facade example can't know that he is looking at a barn? (In fact the barn-facade example doesn't seem to fit easily into the above tripartition; in it one perceives a barn and believes it to be a barn, but doesn't know it to be a barn.) This is all the stranger because Kern, to dramatize the reflective unfavorability of the circumstances, introduces an aunt into the family, who, because she only visits every two years, does not know of the child's lately acquired habit of crying "fire", and comes to know, on hearing this one true "fire" report, that there is a fire in the house. But how, one might well be inclined to ask, does this situation essentially differ from that of the traveler into barn facade country, who, because he doesn't read guidebooks, does not know of the locals' peculiar habits, yet cannot come to know, on looking at the one real barn, that it is a barn? Suppose it's the only structure he actually looks at at all in his trip (eyes on the road, y'know). None of the explanation for why the barn-looker doesn't have knowledge involved reflection.

A slight shift: Adrian Haddock has an article in a recent (Mar '11) issue of Philosophical Explorations (and the subsequent issue has an annoying article by some fool attempting—badly—to trespass on my dissertation; how aggravating) on disjuctivism, part of a series including a response by Burge to Mcdowell's response to Burge. Haddock wants to motivate a disjunctive conception of perceiving alongside (I take it alongside, anyway) that of experience; some perceivings are mere perceivings (as in the barn-facade case, or in reflectively unfavorable circumstances); some are perceivings of such-and-such that "are cases of being in a position to know that one perceives such-and-such", where this "being in a position" excludes non- and reflectively unfavorable circumstances. He mentions the barn-facade style of case but says he does "not want to place much weight on it", partly because he is "not sure it merits much weight" and partly because he thinks there's a much more worrying problem. But the way he motivates that more worrying problem leaves me utterly unmoved.

It is an adaptation of an argument of Williamson's that seems in essence to date at least to Russell; it hinges on endorsing this principle: "for any times t and t + 1, where t and t + 1 are any two times spaced only fractionally—say, one millisecond&mash;apart, if at t one knows that something is at the case, then at t + 1 this very thing is the case; e.g. if at t I know that I see that your sweater is brown, then at t + 1 I see that your sweater is brown." (But isn't this principle obviously false? Surely I can know something that ceases to be the case within a millisecond. Suppose I learn (it doesn't matter how) that there is a pen in my office. And sometime later someone detonates a stick of dynamite in my office, destroying the pen within a millisecond (at t the shock wave is still approaching it; by t + 1 it's up in smoke). Why should we think that at t I didn't still know what was after all still the case at t, that there is a pen in my office?) Haddock thinks that it would be difficult to deny this principle. Part of the argument is:

Now it seems that, if in one situation something is the case and one believes that it is the case, but in a very close situation it is not the case and yet one still believes that it is the case, then the claim that, in the former situation, one believes that it is the case because it is the case is in jeopardy. … What is it for two sitations to count as being "very close"? Well, it seems to be a fact about our capacity for altering confidence-levels that we cannot, across a fractionally small space of time (say, a single millisecond) shift from a state of believing that something is the case with the confidence required for knowing that it is the case, to a state of not believing that it is the case. And here by "our capacity" I mean the capacity of human beings like us … We might cast this fact into hypothetical form by saying that, if at one time one knows (and so believes) that something is the case, then at a fractionally later time (say, one millisecond later) one still believes that it is the case … Given this, it seems that two situations temporally spaced only fractionally (say, one millisecond) apart will always count, for human beings, as "very close", no matter how much the situations may differ in other respects.

Assuredly, they will count as temporally very close, while for those whose belief-revision processes are yet laggier situations a minute or an hour apart will count as temporally very close. But why on earth would this fact make one think that the claim about jeopardy holds? Suppose our abilities to revise our beliefs were indeed quite laggy, so that the minimum lifespan of a perceptually formed belief is not around one millisecond but more like an hour. Belief formation is still swift; the beliefs thus formed just stick around for a long time. Then we can ask two questions: (a) why was this belief formed, why does it have the content it has? (b) why does he (still) have it? The answer to (b) will be something like "once it's formed, it just sticks around for a long time"; the answer to (a) can still be "he believes it because it was the case when he formed it" or even "he formed it because it was the case". The change in time scale only makes clear that these different questions are both applicable and are different; at the shorter scale it still applies. That I am unable to register changes that occur within a certain time scale doesn't mean that when I do register something I don't register it because it is the case; we have different explanations for the formation and the persistence of the registration. I really can't see how this is supposed to be convincing, thus why we should bother with the anti-luminosity argument as Haddock presents it, especially since the barn-facade case <em>anyway</em> motivates his position (and resembles, if not recapitulates, situations we actually encounter in real life) and the anti-luminosity argument trades on vagueness in a to-me suspicious way.

June 10, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

About those barn facades

Long after originally devoting at least some thought to the topic, I have decided finally to write up some of what puzzles or concerns me about the treatment of knowledge (by perception or hearsay) as an exercise of a rational capacity, and especially about the treatment of error, in Quellen des Wissens. Which I still have not read all of, the fourth part remaining outstanding, and since the ninth chapter (the first of the fourth part) contains sections titled "Das Ideal der Fähigkeit" and "Formen des Scheiterns, Tadel und Entschuldigung", it is hardly impossible that it will contain material relevant to what is bugging me. But (a) these things really should have been addressed in the third part, which (moreover) gives no indication that a more in-depth treatment is still to come, and (b) when I took up the book again to finally actually make some headway in the fourth part I was reminded of several of the things that bothered me about the third, and it's in order to actually get those thoughts out, so that I can move on to the fourth part in earnest, that I'm writing this now. Let me say also, by way of increasing the length of this prologue, that I found (am finding) the book really engaging and interesting, and very much worthwhile.

The basic move of the third part of the book, stated perhaps more crudely than is possible, is to conceive of belief-formation as the exercise of a rational capacity for gaining knowledge via, e.g., perception (hence the book's mouthful of a subtitle, Zum Begriff vernünftiger Erkenntnisfähigkeiten), where the capacity in question is to be construed along the lines of an Aristotelian dynamis as laid out in Metaphysics θ to which, correspondingly, some exegetical attention is given. This is supposed to establish an explanatory asymmetry in which success (= actually knowing) is explained directly with reference to the operation of the capacity, while failure (= merely believing) is explained with reference to the capacity's being inhibited by some particular state of affairs which has interfered with its operation—"by denial and removal", as Aristotle puts it. (As will be seen, though, it's not very clear whether Kern thinks the failure of the exercise of a capacity, or the absence of a capacity, is to be explained in this fashion.)

The following passage initially excited my concern:

Die Überzeugungen, die jemand, der im Dorf der Scheunen-Fassaden vor der einzig echten Scheune bildet, ist zufällig wahr, weil die Scheunen in diesem Dorf im paradigmatischen Fall derart sind, daß jemand, der einen sinnlichen Eindruck von einer Scheune hat, kraft dieses Eindrucks nicht in der Lage ist, zu einer wahren Überzeugung zu kommen. Der paradigmatische Fall eines sinnlichen Eindrucks einer Scheune ist im Dorf der Scheunen-Fassaden kein Fall der Aktualisierung einer vernünftigen Erkenntnisfähigkeit. Das aber heißt nicht anderes, als daß man im Dorf der Scheunen-Fassaden nicht die Fähigkeit hat, durch sinnliche Eindrücke die Scheunen in diesem Dorf zu erkennen. (p 272; emphasis added)

One could be concerned about the "paradigmatic case" stuff, which, as near as I can recall, crops up in this passage for the first time; for one thing, we have been given no reason why we're interested in what is paradigmatically the case in this village rather than what is paradigmatically the case in this state (in this county, in this country, when standing before this barn). Which is not irrelevant to the concern I had about the highlighted clause: namely, that explanation of error by reference to one's not having the capacity in this case is different from explanation of error by reference to one's capacity being fallible or exercised wrongly, or the like. And while it does, admittedly, seem plausible to say that in barn-facade country one doesn't have the capacity to know via glancing whether one is before a barn; one doesn't have that sort of discriminatory capacity. But if that's true it seems to be because one doesn't have, in general, the capacity to discriminate between barns and cunning barn facades, if one is just driving past them, anyway; and one could always say, of any other perceptual error, that of course one didn't have the discriminatory capacity that would have led one not to commit the error—because, obviously, otherwise one would not have committed it. This style of explanation is particularly unsatisfactory here because it looks to assimilate rational capacities (which produce "contrary effects") to nonrational capacities—as in fact seems to be the case in the chapter on satisfactory and unsatisfactory circumstances.

I want to pursue a slightly more organized course here than usual, though, and that stuff will actually comes somewhat more in the middle, basically marching through Kern's use of Aristotle in the order of the Aristotelian text. So here are some questions from that direction one might have: (a) Metaphysics θ 2–5 are, officially, concerned with dynameis kata kinesis; perception is not a kinesis but an energeia, so how much of this discussion can we apply to a discussion of the capacity to perceive? (b) How are we to understand the relation to, and especially production of, contraries in the case of the capacity to perceive? (c) How are we to understand the role of "desire or choice" (Kern has "desire in the sense of choice") when it comes to the capacity for perception? (d) How are we to understand the claim "it has the potentiality in question when the passive object is present and is in a certain state; if not it will not be able to act" (1048a15–16) in this context?

Obviously these and related questions can be and have been asked just about Aristotle, nevermind Kern's use of Aristotle. I am not even going to attempt to address (a) except insofar as it impinges on (b), though it's a general sort of theme, and for the rest I'm just going to briefly state concerns. (Kern doesn't address (a) at all; I'm not sure focusing on belief-formation on the basis of a perception nullifies its relevance, but in any case, it just doesn't come up.) Kern's discussion of (b) seems to run the relation to and production of contraries together with the questions of deciding and of the having of a capacity as that figure in (c) and (d) (see pp 226–230), which is very unhelpful; in any case, what she says about the relation to contraries involves the explanatory asymmetry noted above: "Denn Aristoteles begründet die Behauptung, daß vernünftige [= besouled] Fähigkeiten einen Bezug auf das ihnen Gegenteilge haben, damit, daß ihr logos sowohl die »Sache« wie auch den ihr gegenteiligen Fall, den er als »Privation« bestimmt, erklärt" (p 225). The capacities explain two different classes of events, and for some of them they offer "eine Erklärung »durch Verneinung und Wegnahme« von etwas, das zur Fähigkeit gehört. Beispiele für solch negativen Fälle sind etwa der Skifahrer, der beim Drehschwung stürzt; der Lesende, der sich verliest … und schließlich der Arzt, der seinen Patienten nicht gesund macht, sondern mit einem raffinierten Giftbrei um die Ecke bringt" (p 227). I believe that later (or … earlier; anyway, somewhere) she makes the claim that the capacity explains the contrary also in this sense, that if there were no such thing as reading there would not be misreading; absent skiing, in general, no such thing as a poorly executed Drehschwung, whatever that may be. And in that respect, too, one might explain the talk of rational capacities producing contraries, in that (how convenient that Aristotle's frequent use of doctoring as an example allows for this pun) malpractice depends on practice for its possibility. But that general sort of characterization won't explain this particular doctor's malpractice, here and now, and that's the kind of example Aristotle gives.

Kern's discussion here moves quickly to decision, a topic first broached in Aristotle in chapter five; but it is probably worthwhile to stick with chapter two for a bit. Kern omits, when giving translations from Aristotle from ch. 2, both mention of the fact that there rational capacities are said to produce, not merely explain or be related to, contrary effects, and the claim in the chapter's second sentence that "all arts, i.e. all productive forms of knowledge [technai and poietikai epistemai], are potentialities"; in these cases, I think, it's much easier to see how (or see a way how) both the relation to and the production of contraries could work. Heidegger, for instance, has a pretty interesting account here (one is always a bit uncertain how far to trust Heidegger when it comes to interpreting Greek philosophy, but the account is interesting, and Kern cites him (specifically Aristoteles' Metaphysik θ 1–3: von Wesen und Wirklichkeit der Kraft, which is what I'm using (in translation) too) for support, so I think he's fair game). Although Heidegger translates the relevant passage as "all skills and ways of versatile understanding in the production of something are forces (thus capability in our sense)", that is, in a way that leaves open the possibility that things other than technai are dynameis kata kinesis, he later he identifies them, saying things like "the technai are the dynameis kata kinesis" (rather than "the technai are dynameis kata kinesis"). At any rate, he gives skills and production pride of place when talking about the production of contraries. The ensuing discussion is rather involved, but one way to understand the both the relation to, and the production of, contraries, when we are thinking primarily of end-directed processes that are not complete at every moment (which bring something into existence), and especially when we are thinking of technai, is that "as the material and each particular state in the course of production offer occasions for mistakes and failure and for being irregular … logos … is constantly what excludes, but this means that it includes the contrary with it" (pp 121f); the producer is concerned with an end that sets a standard for what he is doing and insofar as he is taking care to do that is referred to the various things that would trip him up or spell failure or the like. And just this process will occasionally lead to the production of the contrary.

(I just noticed something odd: towards the end of this discussion Heidegger writes "Every production of something, in general every dynamis meta logou, prepares for itself, and this necessarily, through its proper way of proceeding, the continually concomitant opportunity for mistaking, neglecting, overlooking, and failing" (p 131), but in both the previous and the next section he speaks in a way that makes it seem as if he's still focused on dynameis kata kinesis, thus (apparently) not every dynamis meta logou, or, if every, in a way that is still unclear, given what has preceded.)

Kern avails herself, I think, of basically this kind of thought when it comes to explaining the production of contraries, though it's confusingly bound up with talk of decision, as if she is explicating chapter five rather than chapter two. Thus she gives this example: "»Weshalb ist Jim gestürzt?« »Weil er bei der Schwungsteuerung den Innenski belastet hat.«" (p 228); that is, Jim overlooked, failed to take account of, something that his end of skiing, and executing some particular move, called on him to do. And when talking about decision, she emphasizes that Aristotle must understand prohairesis "als eine überlegte Entscheidung dazu, das unter den gegebenen Umständen gemäß der Fähigkeit Richtige zu tun" (p 234) (citing here McDowell and Heidegger). What interests her about this is the claim that the ability to make this kind of considered decision is not independent of the having of the ability to exercise the capability, or rather, the ability to make such a decision is a further exercise of the capability, but it is not hard to see it as also akin to the point Heidegger wants to make, that in acting one is guided by one's understanding of what is to be done, given that one has the production of such-and-such as one's goal. Plausibly, being able to understandingly carry that deliberational task out (should the issue of actually deliberating arise) is not separable from being able to carry the actual task out, at least in a preliminary fashion.

It is, however, not at all clear to me how this applies to non-productive (non-kinetic, one might say) capacities. It's not just that one doesn't often make decisions about what to understand someone to mean, or to take someone's noisy productions as meaningful speech (though one sometimes does something like that, certainly: for instance, when listening to someone speak an unknown, unplaceable language, one may remind oneself that it is meaningful speech, though such a reminder doesn't enable one to take it as meaningful speech in the way that one takes the speech of someone who speaks a language one understands as meaningful); Kern is right to emphasize that we needn't be concerned with an explicit episode of coming to a decision. But it's hard to see how to get from her characterization of decision to something that does apply to such examples; and, even if we had such a path, we would still want to know where the room for the production of contraries came in. Thus towards the end of her exposition of Aristotle, she writes (now we are on (c)):

Wenn jemand in verständlichen Worten mit mir spricht, dann steht es mir nicht frei, ihn so oder anders oder gar nichts zu verstehen. Da hat Kenny ganz recht. … [Aristoteles kann] Akte als Aktualisierungen einer vernünftigen Fähigkeit zulassen, die nicht selbst das Resultat einer Entscheidung sind, sofern sie nur solche sind, zu denen sich das Subjekt dieser Akte entscheidend verhalten kann. … Wenn die grundlegende Bestimmung eines vernünftigen Aktes die ist, daß er einer vernünftigen Fähigkeit entspringt, dann verlangt dies nur, daß ein Akt, um vernünftig zu sein, einen Grund haben muß, den das Subjekt in Form eines Überlegens rekonstruieren kann und zu dem es sich entscheidend verhalten kann. (pp 236f, emphasis in original)

But the rejoinder to Kenny simply seems confused. Kenny's objection, as Kern recapitulates it, isn't that on a given occasion one doesn't need to decide or deliberate whether or how to understand someones understandable words; it is that it isn't up to one at all. So the doubtless correct claim that Aristotle can admit acts that aren't the result of a decision as long as they are such that the subject could have come to the acts from a decision, seems quite beside the point; Kenny's claim is that that is precisely what the subject cannot do. It's not just that the subject is especially practiced at understanding comprehensible English (etc.) words, but could reconstruct how he does it in syllogistic form for you if it for some reason came up; any such reconstruction would be foreign to the subject and not something on which he could act. (That this should be so is vital to Kern's broader epistemological strategy.) And consequently it is hard to see how to take account of what happens when I mishear except by citing environmental factors that would lead us to say that I don't have (in these circumstances) the capacity after all. But if we're going to talk about perception as a rational capacity, we need the capacity to produce contraries, not just to be subject to the proviso that it is only the capacity to … in certain circumstances. Which brings us to (d).

Here is the Aristotelian text:

Therefore everything which has a rational potentiality, when it desires that for which it has a potentiality and in the circumstances in which it has it, must do this. And it has the potentiality in question when the passive object is present and is in a certain state; if not it will not be able to act. To add the qualification "if nothing external prevents it" is not further necessary; for it has the potentiality in so far as this is a potentiality of acting, and it is this not in all circumstances but on certain conditions, among which will be the exclusion of external hindrances; for these are barred by some of the positive qualifications. (1048a13–20)

First, somethings that can be state briefly. As this translation has it, at least, the statement about external prevention concerns things which have rational capacities; that is the referent of "it" in "And it has the potentiality …". Kern, as seemingly everyone in her circle does (and as does Jon Moline in "Provided Nothing External Interferes" from 1975), applies this account indifferently to the dispositions of the soulless and to the capacities of the besouled.

I think the following is also fair: it would strain belief to attribute my making a mistake in the execution of some task always to some external hindrance; sometimes a loud noise distracts me and I don't finish the task, or sometimes a bomb destroys me and I don't finish the task, and those are external hindrances, but sometimes I just slip up, and it's hard to see why that is an external hindrance. So in such cases it seems we can recognize my exercising the capacity, and the contrary's being produced, at the same time, without explaining my failure with reference to my not actually having the capacity in this situation.

Moline puts the thought here, as regards the dispositions of inanimate objects, in the following example: "it is not the case … that sugar has the property of being-soluble-under-all-circumstances-provided-nothing-external-interferes. Rather it has under all circumstances the property of being-soluble-under-certain-special-circumstances, namely, the ones under which it will invariably dissolve" (p 253); we can learn through experimentation what those circumstances are. Kern wishes to use this sort of thought to explain error; "der Irrtum" (ihr nach) "stellt folglich einen Fall dar, der nicht unmittelbar durch die Fähigkeit erklärt wird, die konstitutiv für ihn ist, sondern durch partikulare, kontingente Umstände, die erklären, weshalb jemand, der im Besitz der Fähigkeit ist, etwas zu erkennen, in der Ausübung dieser Fähigkeit gescheitert ist. Umstände, die das Scheitern der Ausübung einer bestimmten Fähigkeit erklären, wollen wir »ungünstige Umstände« nennen" (p 281). (The topic should be broader than just error, of course, since the person who concludes that he sees a barn in barn facade country is not, when he stands before the sole real barn there, in error. Nevertheless, Kern would like to say that in these circumstances he does not have the ability to recognize barns by glancing at them.) She proceeds by drawing an explicit analogy, at length, with dispositions, applying it then with little modification to rational capacities:

Wenn wir sagen, »Lisa kann schwimmen«, dann schließt das »kann« in dieser Aussage über Lisa ein, daß Schwimmen ein Akt ist, der als solcher von bestimmten Umständen abhängig ist und durch das Bestehen sogenannter ungünstiger Umstände verhindert werden. Wenn wir Lisa ins Wasser werfen, während sich 10 Meter hohe Wellen brechen und Lisa untergeht, werden wir nicht sagen, sie sei untergegangen, weil sie nicht schwimmen konnte. (p 291)

But what are we explaining here with reference to the particular, contingent circumstances? Not the success or failure of the actualization or exercise of the capacity, but the having of the capacity at all. This is quite clear in Moline's formula: if the circumstances are favorable, success is guaranteed. And if circumstances are not favorable, that doesn't mean that there was a failure in the actualization of the sugar's capacity to dissolve; it doesn't have the capacity to dissolve in those circumstances. (This is maybe clearer in a different formula of Moline's, actually, from the same page: the sugar is "under all circumstances capable-of-x-under-certain-special-circumstances"; it is not, however, capable-of-x-under-just-these-circumstances, so there isn't a question about any capability failing to be actualized, any more than the sugar fails to dissolve when it's sitting in the cupboard.) Likewise in Aristotle: he tells us when the possessor of a rational capability does in fact possess it. Contrast Jim's with his Schwungsteuerung; this is a mistake, not an unsatisfactory circumstance in which he just doesn't have the ability to ski.

If the only way we have of explaining why knowledge was not won, or in general a capability not actualized, is by pointing to a particular circumstance and saying, "in this circumstance, so-and-so did not actually have the capability we thought he did; his capability is intrinsically characterized by a certain set of favorable circumstances [cf Kern, p 292], and this is not among them", we seem to be excluding the possibility of error, and, in breif, making the sort of explanation of a state's not being knowledge that was employed in the barn facade context into the sole kind of explanation there is. It also becomes hard to understand such explanations as this: "Das Beste, was [Subjekte] erreichen können, ist, daß sie eine Fähigkeit haben, die sie de facto fehlerfrei ausüben" (p 292). It is hard to understand because we lack an understanding of the fehlerhaft exercise of a capacity—at least, the fehlerhaft exercise of a non-kinetic capacity.

June 04, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Overqualified

rather than that it will happen or has happened? It is, after all, of never really falling over at all. One might, of course, choose to locution that interests us, after all. If Taylor means to suggest qua my doing, but actions are, after all, undertakings in the. The present tense can be of course be matter of course, but at the end it The sentences in (1)–(2) are, of course, like him; "I spot the problem"—and in these cases, of course—after all it says right there that the latter is of course the case with states as well; that x is lines. And after all it does seem that in this case she really is when performed will of course have its specificity. When we consider the animal case suggests itself partly because we do after all do. (They are, after all, also physical!) And this gives rise to the be hasty—but not here. Either of these options, of course, is simply doing next week? And it is after all true that much of what to come about "as a matter of course" hiatus. We can, after all, understand why requires that he be taken that way, and after all, he does say that mean I did not know that I was making tea after all? No. There conclude that after all I am making Darjeeling? Certainly not: at she might be doing that, and of course that is the result she role her skill plays is still important, of course; were it not for of the initial plan. She will of course be able to form make the belief true after all. This second element must be gocart deliberately, but not intentionally—nor, of course, are not (or, of course, argue that one can win the lottery end. Of course I do not, because I every necessary condition is like this, of course. If all I know, after all, that sudden ailments do befall people. And if I agent's end. The agent does, after all, seem to know of some aim he truth about the paint. Moran is after all also correct to should strike while the iron is hot, after all, and circumstances can simply starting from the observation that there do after all seem to after all somewhat abstract! Why should the situation be any in the world with which we are concerned, after all.) Both the already and, after all, ex nihilo nihil fit. In imagination on my part, but this is, after all, a thought experiment, that such knowledge must be receptive because, after all, one's body is of course also matter in space—it would not eyes, after all, so why should one know how things after all easily look to if I lose track of them. Such knowledge could a more distal character. (The examples could of course be rephrased to it is, of course, also true that reliability in φing when one has after all. I think that even for him this gap occurs, and that seeing we did this, of course, we would still not have explained in virtue of genuineness. But we are after all or by doing anything else that's here up to me. It is, of course, receiving gratitude toothless. That, of course, does not make the of course, still leaves the causal theory itself intact. So we must it's a reductive account, so of course the analysandum isn't befall agents, after all, and are in themselves no more a threat to did. Paradigmatically—though not of course exclusively—we gain thereof) on this occasion—though it is of course also a possibly might have wondered why it is—given that I do not, after all, take abstract phenomena. When it comes to pain, after all, the existence capacity which is, after all, fallible. (He were recur to an idea exhaustive length by Burge.) And, after all, both

May 27, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

More Millgram blogging!

One is not quite sure what to make of Hard Truths, though it is certainly interesting (at least through chapter seven) and incisive. Certainly good: the points about engineering one's way to hard-and-fast lines (working over both the concepts and objects simultaneously). In fact Arthur Fine was just here talking about science studies and constructivist sociology of knowledge in ways that, it seems, would be up Millgram's alley; he does mention Foucault and (Arnold) Davidson somewhat early on to distinguish himself from them, but, though he calls on Latour in ch. 7, it's not really a theme of his discussion thus far.

Reading that use of Latour (applied to precisificationist approaches to vagueness) calls to mind a famous injunction from The Mythical Man-Month. A footnote of Millgram's:

Interestingly, Latour pins Aramis' ultimate failure on the unwillingness of those involved to violate a condition that Fine, 1975/1996, pp. 127, 129, takes to be a sine qua non of the precisificationist approach: that truth values remain stable under further precisification. It was the engineers' and project managers' insistence on sticking with the defining features of their vague ideal ('nominal Aramis') that made the political compromises necessary for Aramis’s survival impossible. The lesson Latour draws from Aramis's failure is that the workability of any realistically large project involving precisification of this kind depends on one's ability to give up the truths fixed by one's initial, still-very-vague description. (See pp. 48, 99–101, 108f., 119f., 281, 295.)

The injunction from Brooks being: "Where a new sys­tem con­cept or new tech­nol­ogy is used, one has to build a sys­tem to throw away, for even the best plan­ning is not so om­ni­scient as to get it right the first time. Hence plan to throw one away; you will, any­how." (One can say much the same thing about dissertations, or any other endeavor in which, in prosecuting the project, one is also learning its boundaries, how best to pursue it, etc.; Fine (Arthur, not Kit), in fact, seemed fond of quoting Dewey to the effect that we learn in our investigations how to investigate, and we needn't simply be making what we already more-or-less thought more precise.) Google reveals a corollary attested only at that precise URL to the effect that it has to be a sincere effort, too, you can't go in to your first attempt to hash things out with the project of making a toy that you can discard.

A slightly more substantive update made the day after the above was written: In chapter nine Millgram says this:

Fourth and finally, once you allow partial truth, you no longer have the option of treating truth as a primitive. When you characterize a claim as true enough, or true in a way, or almost entirely true … you need to be able to explain what you mean by that. These explanations, we have seen, proceed case-by-case, can themselves involve a great deal of subtlety and nuance, and as we are seeing, they are the occasion for a great deal of clarificatory theorizing. Whether or not full truth is what we understand the best, complacency is not an attitude we can reasonably adopt toward partial truth.

Since Millgram has previously referred to Aristotle for the claim (which hardly needs such a weighty authority to back it up) that the ways of missing the mark are many, but there's only one way to hit it, this bald assertion that allowing partial truth—which is, after all, often characterized as that banner under which the various fallings short of the mark are united—means denying the primitiveness of truth, at least, depending on what one means by "primitive" here. It can still be at least more fundamental than partial truth, which is we seem to understand primarily with reference to hard truth, the way that Aristotle proposes understanding failed or otherwise partial exercises of a capacity:

[T]he same rational formula explains a thing and its privation, only not in the same way; and in a sense it applies to both, but in a sense it applies rather to the positive fact. … such sciences must deal with contraries, but with one in virtue of their own nature and with the other not in virtue of their nature; for the rational formula applies to one object in virtue of that object's nature, and to the other, in a sense, accidentally. For it is by denial and removal that it explains the contrary. (Metaphysics θ 1046b8–14)

Which we may interpret (following Kern in Quellen des Wissens, which is the source of the remark a couple posts infra about barn facades and Megarians, which I plan on eventually returning to in some way) as the claim that reference to a rational capacity explains the successful exercise immediately, but must be supplemented, in order to explain a foundered exercise, by reference to some particular thing that got in the way (how to construe this in light of 1048a15–24 is not terribly clear to me in itself nor, and this is the point to which I may yet recur, in Kern's exposition), that particular thing only really being understandable precisely as something that is unfavorable for the exercise of the capacity.

This is, in fact, just the way one could take Millgram's example of factory seconds:

Because irregulars deviate in indefinitely many ways from the specification, there was no point in replacing the 'theory' with a taxonomy of defects; it would not have made sense for the Levi's outlet to have a shelf for the jeans with the nonstandard zippers, and another for the jeans sewn with off-color thread, etc. However, when you say that an item is irregular, which is tantamount to saying that its official specification is almost but not entirely true, you are not suggesting that the item does not exist. After all, you are in the factory outlet precisely because the irregulars are there on the shelves.

They're there, and they're Levi's, all right, but what they are in particular is imperfect Levi's, each imperfect in its own unique way; the proper account of them is "Levi's, but …". The proper account of the stuff that gets sold in the regular stores (factory firsts?) is just "Levi's"; that is, not "Levi's, not but (infinitely long disjunction goes here)"—the existence of partial jeans doesn't mean we can't take non-partial jeans as the basic case.

I just noticed that the immediately following section addresses "Naïve Action Theory" and the "strictly incredible" consequence of the view presented there that one is faced with an infinite regress of increasingly smaller intentional actions—a consequence that Thompson at least flirts with (calling it a "suspicion" and then a "conjecture"), that Rödl I suspect endorses, and that Lavin has argued for explicitly (though not, unfortunately, in print yet). I don't think it actually is a consequence of Thompson's relections, though, or at least, Thompson structures things in a way that makes that consequence seem unavoidable, but it is in fact avoidable; briefly, the sort of answers Thompson is prepared to accept to what we might call the inward-directed "how?" question (the "why?" question being "outward" in the sense of looking beyond the present action to some end or other action it subserves) is constrained from the outset to other answers, and I think he even considers this an advantage over the "why?" question where, it seems, we have to accept the not-quite-non-answers "I just feel like it" and "oh, no reason, really." But the consequence of this constraint is just the consequence Millgram correctly notes is incredible. Lavin has it that the constraint is necessary lest we fall into an objectionable metaphysics of action, but that isn't so; that is, the metaphysics he wants to avoid is objectionable, but we can jettison the constraint and still avoid it. Jettisoning the constraint allows us to accept the following as an answer to the "how?" question: "I just do, see, like this". (Anyone who wants to read approximately 17,000 words on this topic is in luck!)

Of course, even if we allow that an action can be intentional under a description that doesn't allow for its being redescribed partwise in such a way that the descriptions of the parts also give descriptions under which the part-proceedings are intentional in themselves, you might think, we're still stuck with the consequence of a regress in what is happening (and this I know Rödl accepts), which may also be incredible; it's less obviously incredible, at least, at least insofar as we stick with the natural attitude and consider how things are presented in experience. We can acknowledge that when it gets down to the unclefts we may be forced to think of things differently. (In fact this isn't unlike Millgram's response in the case of the consequence he does consider. One of the reasons I said above that "one is not quite sure what to make of Hard Truths") is that if one can recur to partial truth, one may do so prematurely; in this case, something like that has happened, I think. I mean: it is true that Thompson's picture as presented by Millgram is mostly right. But it can be made a lot more right if we examine it closely and remove one of the presuppositions, something that can be done with perfect justice. (I also, though this is a much more local complaint, don't really think that one has to, or should, construe Thompson's method as Davidsonian.).)

May 07, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is too important to be given an elaborate setup

The so-called "common" dialect of Greek that arose in the armies of Alexander the Great was, for a long time, communicative koiné of the realm.

May 05, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

An attempt to exorcise an idle thought

The combination of the concept of arrows and Python's subprocess and multiprocessing libraries suggests the possibility of a compact and efficient mini-language for expressing shell pipelines in code. One could imagine, that is, a function that took a specification for a process to be run and returned an arrow that could be combined with other such arrows, all of them eventually to be run, something like (to use Haskell syntax though I'm really thinking of a Python library, and assuming that the names "diff", etc, represent the curried application of this imagined arrow-producing function):

runProcessA $ hgdiff "somefile" >>> ((grep "^+") &&& (grep "^-")) >>> (first $ wc "-l")

(which would return a 2-tuple whose first element is the number of lines added to the file, and whose second is the lines taken from the file), where the fan-out operator "&&&" would take care of properly distributing its input to the input of the processes that are its argument (which does not seem too hard: reading from the pipe representing its input, creating a multiprocessing.Pipe for each of its argument processes, and writing the input read to it; that input in the function that actually runs the subprocess then being written to the pipe to that subprocess) and capturing their output and passing it along to whatever's next in the chain (at the moment this seems trickier). While the basic concept of a pipeline doesn't, obviously, require multiprocessing, the use of the arrow syntax to express the fanning-out of the same input to multiple child processes is not only pleasingly compact but also, or so it seems, would offer a built-in annotation for when multiprocessing can be used and parallelism exploited. (One can conceive of employing arrow laws for optimization purposes here, even. In fact, depending on how we can define first, (***), etc., and if we can conceive of the processes as purely producing output for one another (rather than affecting global state that would potentially affect reordering)—which is obviously questionable!—then we could rewrite the above as runProcessA $ hgdiff "somefile" >>> ((grep "^+" >>> wc "-l") &&& (grep "^-"))* and do other similar transformations, which, I don't know, could be advantageous.)

I'm sure that the basic idea here has been worked out in great detail by real actual Haskell-heads. Lord knows I don't want to try to wrangle with actually implementing anything like this in Python at the moment: pressing issues concerning barn facades and Megarians confront me.

* Reasoning thus: f &&& g can be expressed as arr dup >>> (f *** (arr id)) >>> ((arr id) *** g) (where dup duplicates its input and arr lifts a pure function into an arrow), and, if there's an independent definition of (***), first can be defined as first f = (f *** (arr id)), so that (f &&& g) >>> h = arr dup >>> (f *** (arr id)) >>> ((arr id) *** g) >>> (h *** (arr id)), but as those arr ids make clear, g does not affect the transfer of input from f to h, so we can (one would need a definition of (***) to actually prove this, natch) rewrite that as arr dup >>> (f *** (arr id)) >>> (h *** (arr id)) >>> ((arr id) *** g), then to arr dup >>> ((f >>> h) *** (arr id)) >>> ((arr id) *** g). And if that's legitimate, it's equivalent to ((f >>> h) &&& g).

May 04, 2011 | Permalink | Comments (0)

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