Praxeology and Linguistics

Here is David Hume talking about the distinction:

There is another division of our perceptions, which it will be convenient to observe, and which extends itself both to our impressions and ideas. This division is into Simple and Complex. Simple perceptions or impressions and ideas are such as admit of no distinction nor separation. The complex are the contrary to these, and may be distinguished into parts. Tho’ a particular colour, taste, and smell are qualities all united together in this apple, 'tis easy to perceive they are not the same, but are at least distinguishable from each other.

And:

Whatever has the air of a paradox, and is contrary to the first and most unprejudic’d notions of mankind is often greedily embrac’d by philosophers, as shewing the superiority of their science, which cou’d discover opinions so remote from vulgar conception. On the other hand, any thing propos’d to us, which causes surprize and admiration, gives such a satisfaction to the mind, that it indulges itself in those agreeable emotions, and will never be perswaded that its pleasure is entirely without foundation. From these dispositions in philosophers and their disciples arises that mutual complaisance betwixt them; while the former furnish such plenty of strange and unaccountable opinions, and the latter so readily believe them. Of this mutual complaisance I cannot give a more evident instance than in the doctrine of infinite divisibility, with the examination of which I shall begin this subject of the ideas of space and time.

‘Tis universally allow’d, that the capacity of the mind is limited, and can never attain a full and adequate conception of infinity: And tho’ it were not allow’d, 'twou’d be sufficiently evident from the plainest observation and experience. 'Tis also obvious, that whatever is capable of being divided in infinitum, must consist of an infinite number of parts, and that 'tis impossible to set any bounds to the number of parts, without setting bounds at the same time to the division. It requires scarce any induction to conclude from hence, that the idea, which we form of any finite quality, is not infinitely divisible, but that by proper distinctions and separations we may run up this idea to inferior ones, which will be perfectly simple and indivisible. In rejecting the infinite capacity of the mind, we suppose it may arrive at an end in the division of its ideas; nor are there any possible means of evading the evidence of this conclusion.

'Tis therefore certain, that the imagination reaches a minimum, and may raise up to itself an idea, of which it cannot conceive any sub-division, and which cannot be diminished without a total annihilation. When you tell me of the thousandth and ten thousandth part of a grain of sand, I have a distinct idea of these numbers and of their different proportions; but the images, which I form in my mind to represent the things themselves, are nothing different from each other, nor inferior to that image, by which I represent the grain of sand itself, which is suppos’d so vastly to exceed them. What consists of parts is distinguishable into them, and what is distinguishable is separable. But whatever we may imagine of the thing, the idea of a grain of sand is not distinguishable, nor separable into twenty, much less into a thousand, ten thousand, or an infinite number of different ideas.

'Tis the same case with the impressions of the senses as with the ideas of the imagination. Put a spot of ink upon paper, fix your eye upon that spot, and retire to such a distance, that at last you lose sight of it; 'tis plain, that the moment before it vanish’d the image or impression was perfectly indivisible. 'Tis not for want of rays of light striking on our eyes, that the minute parts of distant bodies convey not any sensible impression; but because they are remov’d beyond that distance, at which their impressions were reduc’d to a minimum, and were incapable of any farther diminution. A microscope or telescope, which renders them visible, produces not any new rays of light, but only spreads those, which always flow’d from them; and by that means both gives parts to impressions, which to the naked eye appear simple and uncompounded, and advances to a minimum, what was formerly imperceptible.

We may hence discover the error of the common opinion, that the capacity of the mind is limited on both sides, and that 'tis impossible for the imagination to form an adequate idea, of what goes beyond a certain degree of minuteness as well as of greatness. Nothing can be more minute, than some ideas, which we form in the fancy; and images, which appear to the senses; since there are ideas and images perfectly simple and indivisible. The only defect of our senses is, that they give us disproportion’d images of things, and represent as minute and uncompounded what is really great and compos’d of a vast number of parts. This mistake we are not sensible of; but taking the impressions of those minute objects, which appear to the senses, to be equal or nearly equal to the objects, and finding by reason, that there are other objects vastly more minute, we too hastily conclude, that these are inferior to any idea of our imagination or impression of our senses. This however is certain, that we can form ideas, which shall be no greater than the smallest atom of the animal spirits of an insect a thousand times less than a mite: And we ought rather to conclude, that the difficulty lies in enlarging our conceptions so much as to form a just notion of a mite, or even of an insect a thousand times less than a mite. For in order to form a just notion of these animals, we must have a distinct idea representing every part of them; which, according to the system of infinite divisibility, is utterly impossible, and according to that of indivisible parts or atoms, is extremely difficult, by reason of the vast number and multiplicity of these parts.

I think that those quotations might be able to clear this up.

Quote note on your quick note about getting older and losing consciousness or “mindfulness”: I understand exactly what you’re talking about, and I have noticed the very same thing. You may find it interesting to note that taste is the same way. You become almost unconscious of the more subtle aspects over time, and not just because of aging taste buds, but I mean when you’re still in your teens, 20s and 30s. Remember eating a Werther’s Original for the first time? There is a certain substance that is said to undo this effect temporarily (for food and everything else), which I think is a significant factor in its popularity :wink:

Quick question: Is the principle of association a part of praxeology or thymology? It is a part of thymology, right?

its a formal principle of economics; it falls under economics and therefore praxeology, rather than thymology.

now, whether such and such agents acted and engaged in trade/assosciation etc, is a matter of facts and values i.e thymology/history.

Oh, sorry, I was actually talking about the principle of association of David Hume, not the principle of association of Ludwig von Mises. I should have been more clear.

ah yes, I would say what you refer to is thymological/historical

It is great to find somebody else working on the same project, especially somebody who is going about it at a different angle. I was beginning to think that I was alone in this! But apparently not.

I agree with this - or rather I should say, it is self-evident to me as well. This apple on my desk is only accessible to me as a set of sensations: how it looks, smells, tastes, feels, and the sound it makes when I bite into it (or drop it, etc.). Plus my thoughts about apples, such as that they grow in cold climates and are good for digestive health - but those thoughts are also just sensations of those same five senses. (For example, I picture in my mind apples growing in Washington and northern Japan, I imagine feeling healthy as I visualize a calendar with each day containing a little video of me biting into an apple.)

If I do not know how an apple looks, smells, tastes, feels, or sounds when bitten, or that it contains fiber, or where they grow or whether they are healthy or whether they are food, etc. etc., then I cannot really say I know what an apple even is. The concept of APPLE to me is nothing more than those components, which are all sensations (whether direct pure sensations such as redness or tartness, or facts and other abstract notions about the fruit). Of course that must be true by what we have already discussed, but my point here is that this is the sense in which I agree with Hume.

So I think I can understand you as saying we can divide sensations down into primary ones, such as tartness or redness, rather than saying what I thought you might possibly be saying, i.e., that we could further break down tartness into specific taste-receptor components, or the like. Rather, I think both you and Hume (and I as well) are saying that these extra components, although perhaps scientifically established, are not available to our direct subjective experience (without special equipment at least), and since we are trying to arrive at the fundamental elements of experience as we actually experience it, we can (and should) stop at that point where we can no longer subjectively sense anything more primary.

On teasing out the semantic ambiguities here, this brief article is absolutely excellent* and I actually would feel remiss if I didn’t recommend reading it right now! For example, a common objection someone might have about my conception of APPLE is that not all apples are red, nor tart, nor have the same feel when bitten into, etc. etc. My answer is that anything that satisfies a certain number of the most pivotal of those characteristics is considered an apple. All concepts and definitions are in that sense somewhat fuzzy. The linked article says just about everything I want to say, and much clearer than I would.

*Except for the determinism vs. free will issue - I think that’s a false distinction. Anyway, only the first part of the article is relevant, so I’ll post it here:

Diseased thinking: dissolving questions about disease122Yvain30 May 2010 09:16PM

Related to: Disguised Queries, Words as Hidden Inferences, Dissolving the Question, Eight Short Studies on Excuses

Today’s therapeutic ethos, which celebrates curing and disparages judging, expresses the liberal disposition to assume that crime and other problematic behaviors reflect social or biological causation. While this absolves the individual of responsibility, it also strips the individual of personhood, and moral dignity

– George Will, townhall.com

Sandy is a morbidly obese woman looking for advice.

Her husband has no sympathy for her, and tells her she obviously needs to stop eating like a pig, and would it kill her to go to the gym once in a while?

Her doctor tells her that obesity is primarily genetic, and recommends the diet pill orlistat and a consultation with a surgeon about gastric bypass.

Her sister tells her that obesity is a perfectly valid lifestyle choice, and that fat-ism, equivalent to racism, is society’s way of keeping her down.

When she tells each of her friends about the opinions of the others, things really start to heat up.

Her husband accuses her doctor and sister of absolving her of personal responsibility with feel-good platitudes that in the end will only prevent her from getting the willpower she needs to start a real diet.

Her doctor accuses her husband of ignorance of the real causes of obesity and of the most effective treatments, and accuses her sister of legitimizing a dangerous health risk that could end with Sandy in hospital or even dead.

Her sister accuses her husband of being a jerk, and her doctor of trying to medicalize her behavior in order to turn it into a “condition” that will keep her on pills for life and make lots of money for Big Pharma.

Sandy is fictional, but similar conversations happen every day, not only about obesity but about a host of other marginal conditions that some consider character flaws, others diseases, and still others normal variation in the human condition. Attention deficit disorder, internet addiction, social anxiety disorder (as one skeptic said, didn’t we used to call this “shyness”?), alcoholism, chronic fatigue, oppositional defiant disorder (“didn’t we used to call this being a teenager?”), compulsive gambling, homosexuality, Aspergers’ syndrome, antisocial personality, even depression have all been placed in two or more of these categories by different people.

Sandy’s sister may have a point, but this post will concentrate on the debate between her husband and her doctor, with the understanding that the same techniques will apply to evaluating her sister’s opinion. The disagreement between Sandy’s husband and doctor centers around the idea of “disease”. If obesity, depression, alcoholism, and the like are diseases, most people default to the doctor’s point of view; if they are not diseases, they tend to agree with the husband.

The debate over such marginal conditions is in many ways a debate over whether or not they are “real” diseases. The usual surface level arguments trotted out in favor of or against the proposition are generally inconclusive, but this post will apply a host of techniques previously discussed on Less Wrong to illuminate the issue.

What is Disease?

In Disguised Queries , Eliezer demonstrates how a word refers to a cluster of objects related upon multiple axes. For example, in a company that sorts red smooth translucent cubes full of vanadium from blue furry opaque eggs full of palladium, you might invent the word “rube” to designate the red cubes, and another “blegg”, to designate the blue eggs. Both words are useful because they “carve reality at the joints” - they refer to two completely separate classes of things which it’s practically useful to keep in separate categories. Calling something a “blegg” is a quick and easy way to describe its color, shape, opacity, texture, and chemical composition. It may be that the odd blegg might be purple rather than blue, but in general the characteristics of a blegg remain sufficiently correlated that “blegg” is a useful word. If they weren’t so correlated - if blue objects were equally likely to be palladium-containing-cubes as vanadium-containing-eggs, then the word “blegg” would be a waste of breath; the characteristics of the object would remain just as mysterious to your partner after you said “blegg” as they were before.

“Disease”, like “blegg”, suggests that certain characteristics always come together. A rough sketch of some of the characteristics we expect in a disease might include:

  1. Something caused by the sorts of thing you study in biology: proteins, bacteria, ions, viruses, genes.
  2. Something involuntary and completely immune to the operations of free will
  3. Something rare; the vast majority of people don’t have it
  4. Something unpleasant; when you have it, you want to get rid of it
  5. Something discrete; a graph would show two widely separate populations, one with the disease and one without, and not a normal distribution.
  6. Something commonly treated with science-y interventions like chemicals and radiation.

Cancer satisfies every one of these criteria, and so we have no qualms whatsoever about classifying it as a disease. It’s a type specimen, the sparrow as opposed to the ostrich. The same is true of heart attack, the flu, diabetes, and many more.

Some conditions satisfy a few of the criteria, but not others. Dwarfism seems to fail (5), and it might get its status as a disease only after studies show that the supposed dwarf falls way out of normal human height variation. Despite the best efforts of transhumanists, it’s hard to convince people that aging is a disease, partly because it fails (3). Calling homosexuality a disease is a poor choice for many reasons, but one of them is certainly (4): it’s not necessarily unpleasant.

The marginal conditions mentioned above are also in this category. Obesity arguably sort-of-satisfies criteria (1), (4), and (6), but it would be pretty hard to make a case for (2), (3), and (5).

So, is obesity really a disease? Well, is Pluto really a planet? Once we state that obesity satisfies some of the criteria but not others, it is meaningless to talk about an additional fact of whether it “really deserves to be a disease” or not.

If it weren’t for those pesky hidden inferences

Hidden Inferences From Disease Concept

The state of the disease node, meaningless in itself, is used to predict several other nodes with non-empirical content. In English: we make value decisions based on whether we call something a “disease” or not.

If something is a real disease, the patient deserves our sympathy and support; for example, cancer sufferers must universally be described as “brave”. If it is not a real disease, people are more likely to get our condemnation; for example Sandy’s husband who calls her a “pig” for her inability to control her eating habits. The difference between “shyness” and “social anxiety disorder” is that people with the first get called “weird” and told to man up, and people with the second get special privileges and the sympathy of those around them.

And if something is a real disease, it is socially acceptable (maybe even mandated) to seek medical treatment for it. If it’s not a disease, medical treatment gets derided as a “quick fix” or an “abdication of personal responsibility”. I have talked to several doctors who are uncomfortable suggesting gastric bypass surgery, even in people for whom it is medically indicated, because they believe it is morally wrong to turn to medicine to solve a character issue.

While a condition’s status as a “real disease” ought to be meaningless as a “hanging node” after the status of all other nodes have been determined, it has acquired political and philosophical implications because of its role in determining whether patients receive sympathy and whether they are permitted to seek medical treatment.

If we can determine whether a person should get sympathy, and whether they should be allowed to seek medical treatment, independently of the central node “disease” or of the criteria that feed into it, we will have successfully unasked the question “are these marginal conditions real diseases” and cleared up the confusion.

“Steven Pinker kicks ass and takes names. He is one of the greatest luminaries alive today.”

so long as you don’t ask him about the police strike in Montreal and the feasibility of anarchy, I agree.

Nice, timely find.