Science, truth and interpretation

In an unsent letter to a correspondent, I didn't tell him: "You pinned it nicely. 'appearing and being are not exactly the same thing'."

But I say yes they are. What appears to you is what is. There is nothing outside of you which tells you, or me, that IT, whatever "it" is, IS.

Consider first these selected quotes from the book Mysticism by Ruth Underhill (pages 5-6, 1961, E. P. Dutton, New York, first published 1911). I note not in passing that at the same time (1913), Husserl was preparing his seminal work on phenomenology, Ideen zu einer reinen Phänomenologie und phänomenologischen Philosophie. Erstes Buch: Allgemeine Einführung in die reine Phänomenologie (Ideas: General Introduction to Pure Phenomenology). Like minds, different words, slightly different takes.

Let us then begin at the beginning: and remind ourselves of a few of the trite and primary facts which all practical persons agree to ignore. That beginning, for human thought, is of course the I, the Ego, the self-conscious subject which is writing this book, or the other self-conscious subject which is reading it; and which declares, in the teeth of all arguments, I AM.

[To me] come . . . a constant stream of messages and experiences. [These through the senses.]

What do these experiences mean? The first answer of the unsophisticated Self is, that they indicate the nature of the external world: it is to the 'evidence of her senses' that she turns, when she is asked what the world is like. From the messages received through those senses . . . she constructs that 'sense-world' which is the 'real and solid world' of normal men. As the impressions come in--or rather those interpretations of the original impressions which her nervous system supplies--she pounces on them. . . .  She sorts, accepts, rejects, combines: and then triumphantly produces from them a 'concept' which _is_, she says, the external world. With an enviable and amazing simplicity she attributes her own sensations to the unknown universe.

It is immediately apparent, however, that this sense-world, this seemingly real external universe--though it may be useful and valid in other respects--cannot be _the_ external world, but only the Self's projected picture of it. It is a work of art, not a scientific fact; and, whilst it may well possess the profound significance proper to great works of art, is dangerous if treated as a subject of analysis. Very slight investigation shows that it is a picture whose relation to reality is at best symbolic and approximate, and which would have no meaning for selves whose senses, or channels of communication, happened to be arranged upon a different plan. The evidence of the senses, then, cannot be accepted as evidence of the nature of ultimate reality; useful servants, they are dangerous guides.

She then concludes this introductory discussion, and I will give a paraphrase. We are justified on the whole in accepting our evidence that something exists beyond ourselves.

So, I contend, we go about our business thinking I see, feel, hear--sense--what you think you see, etc., or can. Thus the bases for science and other things. _I_ becomes _we_. And we proceed under the illusion that my concrete reality is the same as yours. Another researcher in the paranormal from UC Davis talked about "consensus realty". That is as good a term as any, and we need it for carrying out our oh-so-practical lives.

To wit: it all--everything--stands upon _interpretation_. Hard scientists interpret. Sociologists and others (human sciences scientists) do also. We do. The reality that is, or is claimed to be, shimmers at best.

But a rock you say? Here's the old saw. Go outside. Find a rock, pretty good size. Take off your shoe and kick it. There, doesn't shimmer so much as hurts a damn lot. There is your reality. Yes, but that is but one experience, one description of a rock. Solid so much that it can hurt you if you kick or stumble upon.

I propose different levels of description. Solid rocks become vast empty spaces, more empty space than particles that make it up in the quantum physicist's view(?). If he be correct and I am correct, we are not talking about the same thing. Different things. Different descriptions. Add to this the idea of a rock, and we have three levels of description for what we consensually agree is rock.

Hard science is but one of at least four levels or ways of describing something. I can examine it as a physical thing (hard science). I can examine it in my unforgettable experience of it (phenomenology). My toes still smart. I can look at rocks as cultures have understood them, what they mean to peoples (anthropology and related ways of knowing). And I can consider rocks as parts of systems that use them physically or metaphorically.

To quote an earlier self of mine, credit acknowledged, Ken Wilber:

What-is-the-experience-of becomes first person knowing (e.g., phenomenology and related interior sciences). What do we understand, believe, value, etc., becomes first person plural (e.g., interpretive studies such as history, cultural anthropology). Examining it and explaining what and how becomes singular thing research, the object(s) of inquiry for harder (more exterior) science (e.g., biology, physics, etc.). Not least (because all four quadrants are contributors to knowing and understanding) is things plural and how they relate (e.g., systems sciences, political science, etc.).

You don't like the word truth. I don't much like the word science in the way you have limited it. What are we left with? I guess it is an IT. Whatever IT is, and I don't mean information technology, IT is what IT is, based on perspective. And different perspectives, I sincerely assume, are useful. And legitimate. If you like, science (the hard stuff) is done more or less well. And the other fields of inquiry are done more or less well. We need not throw any of it out, unless patently worthless or fraudulent.

For what? Explanation seems to relate specifically to things, whats. Rocks, cells, chemicals, etc. And their interactions. An explanation is a how. How does a cell work? After you answer that, the question is so what? And this takes you off into another territory, another perspective called meaning. And meaning is all about understanding. Hard science itself is limited. It doesn't tell us meaning, arguably the important part. Yes, it is nice and practical to know what a cell is and how it functions. And if you don't have a healthy one, it can do this bit of damage or that. But that is nothing about why, or what to do with the new info/knowledge you have discovered. And _why_ is what the universe wants to know, not only that it is and it works rather mechanistically this way and that.

So I will draw a distinction between explanation, which is all fine and good, and understanding, which gives me reasons for being. Neither by the way, need remain static. They shouldn't if there is more to learn about all the ITs.

Now to end the rant for the day, a discussion others have had and related more clearly and convincingly, the book of poetry I advertise at the bottom of this email is a collection, each poem attempting to discover/uncover/show the what of a what is. ITs, if you will. So this enterprise, talked about here, today, gets worked in expression and obsession . . . well, all too much. I wonder if it is a waste.

In view of the project at hand. If all is interpretation and the images in my mind are the same but different, does then writing communicate from me to you or you to me? Communicate the truth? In one sense, it doesn't matter, because you lay bare as best you can when speaking and writing, and I get what I get, and through a process of arriving at a consensus that we can work with, we can proceed to either get along or not. With a will to have the former, truth is a word we can use to label what it is we are talking about, whatever, again, IT is.

Transmission is not the subject of focus but the process of writing and the artefact. Once transmission/reading is considered, we are off into another realm, beyond writing as phenomenology or phenomenology as writing.