commonsense wrote: ↑Fri Apr 10, 2020 11:12 pm
Veritas Aequitas wrote: ↑Fri Apr 10, 2020 5:01 am
commonsense wrote: ↑Fri Apr 10, 2020 12:13 am
A more central question: can different manifestations of the same thing be different things in themselves?
The central theme of Kant is there is no thing-in-itself thus no things-in-themselves.
Things are by default things-with-conditions [humans and others].
One cannot just get away with "steam is steam" without the imperative conditions and relations, i.e. steam is represented by H20 molecules at certain temperature in certain conditions as intertwined with the human conditions.
Note my thread on "
Relativistic Quantum Mechanics"
Due respect, Kant is entitled to an opinion.
As for me, reality is what I perceive via my senses.
A chair is a thing in itself. I can see a chair. I can touch a chair. I can sit in a chair. I can pick up a chair. I can even lick a chair to find out what it tastes like. I suppose I can place my nose on a chair and sniff it, too.
As for conditions, a chair can be occupied, available, broken, leaning, on fire, dusty, dirty, wet, dry, heavy, light... but it is still a chair, a thing in itself. It doesn’t require any of its conditions in order to be a chair.
One
can get away with “a chair is a chair”.
One point with Kant is, he always support his conclusion with very sound arguments.
You have to read Kant and you will understand [not necessary agree] to the rigor and soundness of his argument.
(
note Russell's point below]
What is a chair or 'chairness' is only conditioned by the human conceptual system.
Non-humans will not recognize what-is-chair' to humans, as a chair.
To what-is-chair to humans, a blind bat will merely sense a bundle of sonar dots and never a chair like humans do.
If one were to reflect deeply and philosophically on things like a chair or a table, there is no chair-in-itself.
Here is what Russell arrived at when he dug deeply into what-is-a-table;
In daily life, we assume as certain many things which, on a closer scrutiny, are found to be so full of apparent contradictions that only a great amount of thought enables us to know what it is that we really may believe. In the search for certainty, it is natural to begin with our present experiences, and in some sense, no doubt, knowledge is to be derived from them. But any statement as to what it is that our immediate experiences make us know is very likely to be wrong.
To make our difficulties plain, let us concentrate attention on the table. To the eye it is oblong, brown and shiny, to the touch it is smooth and cool and hard; when I tap it, it gives out a wooden sound. Any one else who sees and feels and hears the table will agree with this description, so that it might seem as if no difficulty would arise; but as soon as we try to be more precise our troubles begin.
Among these surprising possibilities, doubt suggests that perhaps there is no table at all.
Such questions are bewildering, and it is difficult to know that even the strangest hypotheses may not be true. Thus our familiar table, which has roused but the slightest thoughts in us hitherto, has become a problem full of surprising possibilities. The one thing we know about it is that it is not what it seems. Beyond this modest result, so far, we have the most complete liberty of conjecture.
Leibniz tells us it is a community of souls: Berkeley tells us it is an idea in the mind of God; sober science, scarcely less wonderful, tells us it is a vast collection of electric charges in violent motion.
What Russell meant in the above is;
he knows there is an empirical table in front of him,
however to be very realistic philosophically, there may not be a table-in-itself other than an empirical table.
Kant argued and demonstrated why and how there cannot be an absolutely thing-in-itself, i.e. chair-in-itself or table-in-itself.
What is a thing
ultimately and
philosophically* must always and imperatively intertwined with human conditions collectively.
* i.e. not casually nor conventionally.
If one were to do Philosophy, one need to avoid being what Russell called 'Practical Man'
Russell wrote:The value of philosophy is, in fact, to be sought largely in its very uncertainty.
The [practical] man who has no tincture of philosophy goes through life imprisoned in the prejudices derived from common sense, from the habitual beliefs of his age or his nation, and from convictions which have grown up in his mind without the co-operation or consent of his deliberate reason. To such a man the world tends to become definite, finite, obvious; common objects rouse no questions, and unfamiliar possibilities are contemptuously rejected.
As soon as we begin to philosophize, on the contrary, we find, as we saw in our opening chapters, that even the most everyday things lead to problems to which only very incomplete answers can be given.