Posts by Amanda Jackson5

All this bickering about God in philosophy classes is just absurd because you’re missing the point: religion is essentially a metaphor for reality itself. It uses imagery and symbolism to describe things that philosophy tries to tackle through pure reason. You can see the Holy Spirit manifesting in art, in faith, in philosophy, even in history. Trying to pin down absolute truth through religious dogma is a fool's errand; the language used there is far too limited, and frankly, it's been completely discredited by people who only care about power, control, and profit rather than anything resembling truth, humanity, or the human spirit.
God serves as a metaphor for the Absolute—that deep-seated longing for an unattainable perfection within our own "selves," or that imaginary sense of being free from all objective constraints.
Think of God as a universal concept, internally articulated through a trinity but ultimately existing as a spiritual unity, a force capable of bringing heaven and earth into being. When creation happens, it introduces specific distinctions—not just between the creator and the created, but among the vast multitude of things that lack the inherent unity of the divine. It’s a logical process of differentiation. These differences become radical when the created beings develop their own independent centers of thought and action, pushing back against the divine order. This plurality and division within the created order are resolved through three Hegelian syllogisms. In the first, the particularity of division and death acts as the mediator between the individual—who integrates the divine—and the broader human experience expressed as spirit. Particularity sits right in the middle, between the singular and the universal. In the second syllogism, once the singular individual is established, they mediate between the various particularities of scattered humanity and their eventual incorporation into the universal spirit (God). Much like how induction works—where the singular mediates between the particular and the universal—we have this narrative of a god-like figure who dies to become the universal spirit, absorbing individual, independent people into the universal life of the Holy Spirit. This universal spirit then bridges the gap between the individual who has overcome mortality and the mass of particular people; it acts as the universal mediator between the singular and the particular. These three syllogisms weave together into one complex syllogism where the spirit mediates its own existence. Once you grasp the integrated quality of this totality, the door opens to true philosophical understanding.
That would be the rational way to interpret your fairy tales and little stories. But interpreting hysterical, hypomanic outbursts like this one:

Only the Absolute (Logos) is eternal, unchanging, perfect, almighty, complete, omniscient, absolutely just, and absolutely wise. If it isn't, then it isn't the Absolute!

...would require more of a psychiatric evaluation than a philosophical one.

feralranger said:I follow your logic, but while Descartes' axiom stands independent of sensory input, this "I breathe, therefore I am" concept relies heavily on it, which makes it utterly nonsensical...

I struggle to imagine a scenario where I could think without existing, yet, conversely, I cannot say with any absolute certainty that I even possess lungs capable of breathing.

Sure, exactly. If you follow Descartes' logic to its natural conclusion, you realize that if you argue that thought is the bare minimum requirement for existence, you're essentially admitting that thought itself is actually (at its most basic level) just a form of being.

feralranger said:It strikes me as a rather nonsensical sentiment. If one intends to establish existence simply by noting that they are breathing, one first has to rely on sensory perception to make that observation—which stands in stark contrast to the Cartesian formulation that avoids such sensory dependency entirely—and, as we all know, our senses are notoriously prone to deception.

But even then, there’s still a reliance on perception; you perceive the act of thinking itself. Self-awareness implies that you are experiencing yourself as an object. It is consciousness turned inward upon consciousness; otherwise, we would just call it "consciousness"—which is what dogs, cats, or birds possess—rather than "self-awareness." Every statement, including that whole "I think, therefore I am" bit, is directed toward someone else. Even when a person is just talking to themselves, they are essentially talking to an "other." Any kind of speech assumes there is a listener present, even if that listener is purely imaginary.

Sam Thomas said:From what I’ve gathered through various interpretations—rather than reading Lacan directly—for him, this represents the very locus of self-awareness. It goes so far as to suggest that self-awareness itself is marked as an external object, or perhaps the *objet petit a* (that elusive object of human desire, the phantasmatic goal we can never quite grasp).
To that extent, this "point cast out from the center"—self-awareness—serves to mark and represent the existence of distance; after all, if there were no distance (which self-awareness itself produces), how could one "think where they are not, yet be where they do not think"? If it were possible to come to a standstill, to finally reach that point and collapse the distance, we would exist precisely where we think, but aren't we always positioned as being against, towards, or in opposition to the reality and the world we perceive?
Is it possible that this distance is dissolved during sleep?

Regardless, I am not entirely sure how all of this correlates with the philosopher's claim in the opening post—the idea that he does not exist?
He wouldn't exist if he were one with the world (though one has to wonder if the world as we see it exists without the relationship established by that distance) or, more simply, if self-awareness did not exist.
And so, Descartes is everywhere: "I think, therefore I am."
I intentionally avoided saying "I think, therefore I *am*" because of that peculiar Copernican shift suggested by Lacan above.

What conclusions can we draw by weighing Descartes against Lacan?
One cannot really derive from Lacan's claim that "being" and "existing" are identical, though existence remains a necessary and unquestionable condition. The question is merely where one is, or is not. It is much like sitting in a social circle and "listening" absentmindedly to someone speaking while your mind is drifting somewhere else entirely. Then, noticing your distraction, the person asks, "Hey, where did you go just now?"

So, the argued claim by that certain philosopher mentioned earlier might, as I see it, relate to what Jonathan Brooks8 suggested: that there is no single answer to the question "who am I?" Or perhaps that the "I" is indeterminate (emerging instead as a defining element within a relation or interaction), which, if I recall correctly, traces back to Jung.

The thing is, self-consciousness isn't the objet petit a; rather, the objet petit a is what happens when the subject splits between self-consciousness and the unconscious. It emerges from that nagging sense that something is missing within the symbolic order. You can think of it simply as that persistent, underlying feeling every person carries—this sense that there’s a void in their life. The objet petit a is simultaneously that emptiness, the split, and whatever temporary fix we chase to fill that gap, even though we know deep down it can never truly be filled (desire).

Sam Thomas said:From what I’ve gathered through various interpretations—rather than reading Lacan directly—for him, this represents the very locus of self-awareness. It goes so far as to suggest that self-awareness itself is marked as an external object, or perhaps the *objet petit a* (that elusive object of human desire, the phantasmatic goal we can never quite grasp).
To that extent, this "point cast out from the center"—self-awareness—serves to mark and represent the existence of distance; after all, if there were no distance (which self-awareness itself produces), how could one "think where they are not, yet be where they do not think"? If it were possible to come to a standstill, to finally reach that point and collapse the distance, we would exist precisely where we think, but aren't we always positioned as being against, towards, or in opposition to the reality and the world we perceive?
Is it possible that this distance is dissolved during sleep?

Regardless, I am not entirely sure how all of this correlates with the philosopher's claim in the opening post—the idea that he does not exist?
He wouldn't exist if he were one with the world (though one has to wonder if the world as we see it exists without the relationship established by that distance) or, more simply, if self-awareness did not exist.
And so, Descartes is everywhere: "I think, therefore I am."
I intentionally avoided saying "I think, therefore I *am*" because of that peculiar Copernican shift suggested by Lacan above.

What conclusions can we draw by weighing Descartes against Lacan?
One cannot really derive from Lacan's claim that "being" and "existing" are identical, though existence remains a necessary and unquestionable condition. The question is merely where one is, or is not. It is much like sitting in a social circle and "listening" absentmindedly to someone speaking while your mind is drifting somewhere else entirely. Then, noticing your distraction, the person asks, "Hey, where did you go just now?"

So, the argued claim by that certain philosopher mentioned earlier might, as I see it, relate to what Jonathan Brooks8 suggested: that there is no single answer to the question "who am I?" Or perhaps that the "I" is indeterminate (emerging instead as a defining element within a relation or interaction), which, if I recall correctly, traces back to Jung.

Well, the truth is, you aren't anywhere specific. Subjectivity is a constant, moving process. According to Lacan, you can't have self-consciousness without an unconscious, nor an unconscious without self-consciousness; they basically build each other. He argues that self-consciousness isn't some byproduct of a person successfully adapting to their environment, but rather a result of "dis-adaptation." Since self-consciousness relies on the symbolic order, and since the unconscious is structured linguistically, it follows that humans are fundamentally alienated by language. That’s just the price you pay for having a self-consciousness.

Sam Thomas said:From what I’ve gathered through various interpretations—rather than reading Lacan directly—for him, this represents the very locus of self-awareness. It goes so far as to suggest that self-awareness itself is marked as an external object, or perhaps the *objet petit a* (that elusive object of human desire, the phantasmatic goal we can never quite grasp).
To that extent, this "point cast out from the center"—self-awareness—serves to mark and represent the existence of distance; after all, if there were no distance (which self-awareness itself produces), how could one "think where they are not, yet be where they do not think"? If it were possible to come to a standstill, to finally reach that point and collapse the distance, we would exist precisely where we think, but aren't we always positioned as being against, towards, or in opposition to the reality and the world we perceive?
Is it possible that this distance is dissolved during sleep?

Regardless, I am not entirely sure how all of this correlates with the philosopher's claim in the opening post—the idea that he does not exist?
He wouldn't exist if he were one with the world (though one has to wonder if the world as we see it exists without the relationship established by that distance) or, more simply, if self-awareness did not exist.
And so, Descartes is everywhere: "I think, therefore I am."
I intentionally avoided saying "I think, therefore I *am*" because of that peculiar Copernican shift suggested by Lacan above.

What conclusions can we draw by weighing Descartes against Lacan?
One cannot really derive from Lacan's claim that "being" and "existing" are identical, though existence remains a necessary and unquestionable condition. The question is merely where one is, or is not. It is much like sitting in a social circle and "listening" absentmindedly to someone speaking while your mind is drifting somewhere else entirely. Then, noticing your distraction, the person asks, "Hey, where did you go just now?"

So, the argued claim by that certain philosopher mentioned earlier might, as I see it, relate to what Jonathan Brooks8 suggested: that there is no single answer to the question "who am I?" Or perhaps that the "I" is indeterminate (emerging instead as a defining element within a relation or interaction), which, if I recall correctly, traces back to Jung.

It always shows up in relation to something else. There is no "I" without the Other, whether that's another person or a secondary "Other" within the subject themselves. Self-consciousness is essentially the awareness of oneself as an object, which means there has to be another entity present who is aware of themselves (and, by extension, aware of you).

Kenneth Sullivan2 said:Language, Truth, and Logic
Alfred Jules Ayer criticized Descartes' Cogito... though I wouldn't say he proves I don't exist, since he isn't really proving *what* I am, right? Just the things that are thinking...
The flaw lies in the fact that the argument doesn't even align with a standard skeptical approach...
Instead, he suggests that rather than saying I think, we should say there are thoughts, because perhaps thoughts can exist independently of a thinker.
The error is in the very structure of our language—the way I could be functionally identical to it, where that "it" carries no actual meaning, much like I think / it is raining.
🤷

Lacan touched on something pretty similar when he suggested, "I think where I am not, therefore I am where I do not think," referring to that fundamental split within the subject. Basically, the unconscious is doing the thinking in the places where the ego isn't present. Or, looking at it from the other side, the "I"—that conscious, linguistic ego—exists exactly where the "it," the unconscious subject, isn't thinking.

It’s actually a pretty broad claim—even if they rarely say it out loud—that you see popping up among radical skeptics and positivists. Their whole deal is arguing that since they can't make genuine decisions, they aren't held morally accountable for anything, mostly because they believe everything is predetermined. When you tack on their other favorite talking point—that consciousness is just some kind of illusion—you end up at the logical conclusion that you don't even exist.

Seriously... are there actually still people out there who doubt the obvious fact that they don't exist?

Take a second to look around and see if you can spot any injustices weighing on you. Is there some underlying unfairness in the society we live in that’s actually starting to get under your skin? If so, you're probably looking at an ethical dilemma, so feel free to dive into that. For instance, what's your take on corruption within the church?

coastalhound58 said:I guess I'll just head over to Google; I haven't the slightest clue what this even is.🙂

edit: Does anyone here actually have experience with this? Not that I'm typically one for any kind of substances, mind you.

I don't have any firsthand experience with it, but I've spent enough time talking to people who do. It's true that we're technically talking about a "substance," but it's a pretty mysterious one if you ask me. If you want a solid starting point for some actual info, I'd suggest looking into this:
Benny Shanon: "The ANTIPODES of The MIND : Charting The Phenomenology of The Ayahuasca Experience", Oxford University Press, 2002.

coastalhound58 said:At this point, I’m finding that neither sex nor chocolate provides any real fulfillment—honestly, I might be a lost cause😲😁

Maybe give ayahuasca a shot. Just make sure you really nail down what you're asking before you dive in.

electrictiger25 said:Honestly, thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the support and the advice. It is such a relief to finally talk to people who actually get it 🙂

I am just utterly exhausted by all these arbitrary rules—but honestly, it’s more than that. It’s the hatred, the discrimination, all those ugly social constructs that
drive a wedge between us. Sometimes I find myself staring out at this world we inhabit and just feeling overwhelmed. Everything seems to revolve around money; people are
judged solely by the size of their vacation homes or their job titles. I still remember when my dad made a comment about
this guy: "How can a man be any good if he wears shoes like those?" (The guy was wearing these beat-up, century-old sneakers because, frankly, he
couldn't care less about his footwear or how he looks to strangers). It genuinely broke my heart to hear him say that 😢 It is simply impossible
to squeeze any sense of openness out of certain types of people.

Everyone is so obsessed with cash and material possessions, acting as if they’re going to carry them into the grave with them.

I don't know exactly what it is I'm looking for... I just know that I'm not a lesbian 😁, that I will never give a damn about what Peter from the third floor thinks...
and that I want to travel—to see every single corner of this planet. I've always had this dream of living for one year at one
end of the world, then moving to another the next year, and so on. Just spinning the globe and letting my finger decide where my next home will be...

I don't know...

Eventually, you’ll realize that the wanderlust is mostly just a metaphor. Someone once pointed out that the most profound journeys usually happen right between the four walls of your own room.

This is a textbook illustration of what Heidegger describes as living an authentic life. What we're looking at here is someone striving for that genuine sense of being, yet they haven't quite grasped that inner core of resolve—what Heidegger would call *Entschlossenheit*. Even though they're staring down the absolute nothingness that comes from projecting their existence toward the future (since, let's face it, death is the ultimate deadline), that very necessity forces them to embrace authenticity. Heidegger often points to Martin Luther as the gold standard for this; he wasn't the type to mumble, "I suppose I should probably do this," but rather to declare, "Here I am, and I can do no other."

Jeremy Alvarez5 said:I guess I kind of agree with that critique when you're looking at analyzing an individual ( ). But then again, the whole centralized thing about religion, the state, or any power structure starts from this idea where the image of others gets totally twisted; you know, how customs and laws shift depending on who's in charge, so the significance and meaning of certain names change along with political tides. So, maybe when you're trying to analyze the link between a person and their environment—like looking at the flaws or strengths of entire societies—it might actually help to have a more fluid approach to the images and connections that the linguistic structure itself creates...

Religion and mythology sometimes say the exact same things as philosophy, but they do it through imagery and raw emotion rather than being direct. It’s like, it hits you straight in the brain. The only exception in mythology is that secret knowledge that hides behind mythological tales.

I mean, religions and mythologies have these foundations and influences that overlap with how we normally experience the world, which is why deconstructing them is pretty worthwhile... Plus, it's necessary because of the damage they usually do by ignoring their own flaws and lacking any real, free-thinking criticism.

[/So we have philosophy right in the middle, rationally laying out what we know or can know; and on one side, we have mythology and religion telling us something similar, just in a sort of operatic style;

Theater, churches, even sports stadiums—they all share a lot of common ground. And besides mythology, which presents old ways of thinking in such a vague way, those preserved fairy tales are probably just leftovers from ancient religions (like the stuff about Isis and the 7 scorpions...).

I sort of view philosophy as being one of the extremes, mostly because it misses that part of epistemology that deals with how our surroundings affect learning, how we gain knowledge through different paths, and how we actually apply what we've learned, among other things... Like the Pythagoreans, the Talmud, yoga 😁 ...

Oh, I think you're quite a bit off base there; philosophy isn't some isolated vacuum stripped of environmental influence, collective consciousness, or intersubjectivity. If anything, it’s a direct reflection of all that. Take Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel's "Phenomenology of Spirit," for example—the whole thing is built on that premise. That "Spirit" mentioned in the title is essentially the "I" becoming "we," or rather, the "we" being expressed through the "I." Every single socio-historical era carries its own distinct "zeitgeist."

Jeremy Alvarez5 said:Just thought I'd toss this in to make the analysis of five a bit more complete; for the Pythagoreans, 2 is the first female number and 3 is the first male (since one is just the monad, which is its own thing), so 5 ends up being the number of love...

Then you've got all those different religious creation myths where the number 5 pops up—like 360 days plus 5 extra days for whatever gods are competing with each other, which then divides by 5 to get 72...

And obviously, the Chinese tradition carries over that whole theory about the five elements.

I guess if the first yin and yang, or some kind of trinity, were already in harmony with unity, then maybe the details of how different stories unfold don't matter as much as what comes next, like the four children; for instance, Geb, the god of Earth, and Nut, the goddess of the sky, have—Osiris, Isis, Set, and Nephthys.

Beyond that, there are these figures who step in with their knowledge and skills to bring salvation during the "struggles" between gods—basically when power shifts from darkness to the people—often born from the union of a mortal woman and a God (kind of like those Greek tales...). On top of everything else, we have Dionysus, who was basically born twice, and Athena, who popped right out of her father's head... It seems like the more unbelievable the story is, the greater the darkness that gets "born" from it...

I wonder, would a Lacanian analysis of the word "wisdom" help us understand how these different interpretations and ways of honoring it actually came to be?

If you ask me, a Lacanian analysis wouldn't help us grasp much of anything, really. Religion and mythology sometimes say the exact same things as philosophy, but they deliver them through imagery and raw emotion rather than direct statements. In other words, it hits you right in the gut. The only exception in mythology is that hidden esoteric knowledge camouflaged within the tales—take astronomical insights like the precession of the equinoxes, which Santillan and Dechend illustrated brilliantly in their book Hamletian Mill.
Joseph Campbell believed that true insight into human existence could only be reached through mythology, while he dismissed philosophy as mere "juggling with concepts." However, we have to remember he was specifically targeting Anglo-American analytic philosophy, which can indeed feel like just shuffling terms around. Neither he, nor most Americans, really had a clue about "Continental" philosophy after Immanuel Kant; in other words, speculative philosophy.
So, what we end up with is philosophy sitting in the middle, rationally explaining what we know or can possibly know; on one side, you have mythology and religion telling similar stories in an operatic style; and on the other, you have the French who turned rational philosophy into its own kind of opera, using such baroque, over-the-top language that they managed to cloud everything that was once perfectly clear. Reading Jacques Derrida or Jacques Lacan feels a bit like listening to Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel try to explain his theories after polishing off a duck à l'orange and knocking back four large liters of German beer.

Jeremy Alvarez5 said:Art is sometimes just a quirky way of processing information, but other times, I guess, it’s just a servant to whatever regime or superstition is in charge. Like, you look at certain hieroglyphs where things were basically banned—you know, how Egyptian people were depicted without any perspective, just showing every limb because the public was so terrified of the actual power behind the images... that kind of thing lasted for a long, long time.

Anyway, moving on, where does that leave us? Personally, when I get deep into analyzing everything, I always find myself circling back to the murder of Hypatia. She was this brilliant Neoplatonist mathematician, supposedly beautiful, who took over managing the Library of Congress from her father and even wrote a commentary on Diophantus—and then she gets flayed alive under some accusation of... heresy. It makes me wonder, though, is heresy really the same thing as unbelief? Or maybe it just shows how much the followers of Serapis and Isis were similar to those later Christian sects. And since it all went down right there in the Serapeum, there's another question worth digging into—did Judeo-Christian patriarchy, along with those Pavlovian suggestions, basically wreck the old ways of sharing info and relationships where men and women actually did the same work? I mean, maybe they reduced women to just being child-bearing machines, and honestly, I doubt the Jewish sons/builders were too happy about that either. Unlike the Epicureans or folks in India, they might have ramped up gender tensions so much that they turned society into something even worse than a caste system; they deformed eros and agape, turning agape into a chore and totally warping the capacity for love (I think someone on a forum once mentioned something about the "terrorism of love"). So, loving another person—the same way you love yourself—became this illusory thing, sort of lacking a real model. Then, on top of the legal structures meant to keep the state running, they added the whole heavy weight of heaven and hell gates...

Art, acting as a reflection of both individual and social psychology, might actually tell us quite a bit in those cases where its whole purpose was to be a bridge toward perception, vision, and true understanding...

Art is essentially the essence of life itself—it’s life, distilled and concentrated down into its purest form.

It’s honestly pretty tough for us to wrap our heads around what people back in ancient times actually felt when they were singing hymns to the gods. Every era seems to have its own unique way of perceiving the divine, tailoring their gods to fit whatever specific purpose or vibe they were chasing at the time. Personally, when I look back at those old myths, my favorites have always been Loki and Hermes Trismegistos

I can't say I expected much from this thread, but seeing things unfold like this is almost poetic in its absurdity. It’s one of those situations where you realize that people aren't just missing the point—they're actively sprinting in the opposite direction. It reminds me of watching a slow-motion car crash on a rainy highway in Seattle; you know exactly how it's going to end, yet there's a strange, quiet fascination in watching everyone pretend the collision isn't happening. kaže:
Take Feuerbach, for instance—he’d argue that Hegelian idealism is really just religion with a more sophisticated, rationalized coat of paint.

People love to quote Hegel claiming that all philosophy is essentially just theology in disguise, but honestly, there are so many wildly conflicting interpretations out there—ranging from the purely metaphysical to the strictly non-metaphysical—that it feels like he’s just a blank canvas. It’s almost like Hegel acts as a sort of universal substrate, much like how a sheet of paper can hold any number of contradictory scribbles without ever choosing a side.

I can't make sense of that. If you're trying to tell me something, you might want to try typing it again. kaže:
When we get into the territory of ancient Greek philosophers—and I’m including those old-school dramatists, since back then, putting on a play was basically just another way of practicing philosophy—it gets a little murky. You had everyone from the guys claiming they’d discovered some universal truth to start their own schools, all the way down to the blatant atheists and materialists who didn't believe in any of it. It makes me wonder where exactly the line was drawn to separate the stuff that looks like occultism or magical worship—you know, those theories about whether elements simply exist or if they actually create the world—from what we would call a genuine, sincere love of wisdom.

There’s a pretty fascinating way Hegel interprets Antigone in his *Phenomenology*, specifically when you look at her through the lens of custom. To him, Antigone represents that "divine law"—that specific layer of social custom so deeply embedded in our collective consciousness that we just mistake it for something "natural," eternal, and unchangeable. It’s the kind of tradition that’s grown into our very bones; we don't sit around overanalyzing it or questioning its validity because it’s essentially part of our subconscious, something we grasp intuitively without having to think twice. Her whole existence is basically a living ritual. For Antigone, the idea of not burying her brother isn't even a debate; it feels fundamentally "unnatural" to her. Creon, on the other hand, serves as the embodiment of rational custom—the "human law" represented by the legal system and the state. He ends up sentencing Antigone to death despite everyone telling him not to, simply because he views it as his absolute duty to uphold the law as its protector.
The line separating religion from philosophy might not be razor-sharp, but it certainly isn't some blurry, undefined mess—that’s what rational thought is for. If anything, that boundary used to be much clearer than it is today, mostly because we’ve been forced to deal with a second, even more fog-filled divide: the gap between philosophy and science. It works like a lineage, really; just as philosophy originally branched off from religious thought, science eventually grew out of the philosophical tree.

I can't really make sense of that. If you were trying to say something specific, you might want to try again. kaže:
It’s a bit like when people start talking about "Catholic atheists," "Orthodox atheists," or "Muslim atheists." I know, I know—it sounds like a total oxymoron on paper. But if you actually look at how people function, it makes perfect sense; even when someone grows up without any religious belief, they still carry the cultural DNA of the environment that raised them. You can strip away the theology, but you can't easily scrub away the social rhythms and the way a community views the world.

It makes perfect sense, really, because certain individuals just fall into these patterns by default—what Hegel would call "spirit," though most people today would probably just label it "collective consciousness." You can’t exactly opt out of that shared awareness no matter how hard you try to distance yourself from it. That’s why we see these predictable cycles where you get people moving toward extreme pietism, only to have them pivot straight into becoming those types of religious atheists who still carry all the cultural baggage of their faith.

Your argument is a bit of a labyrinth right now, and I’m having a hard time finding the exit. It isn't really clear what your actual point is supposed to be. Try tightening things up and laying out your thesis a little more clearly and concisely.

Adam Martin said:Respectfully, man, I have to disagree. Collective vibes and traditions might be limited, but they actually provide pretty solid benchmarks for values. Plus, an individual can totally develop their own set of standards too.

Truth and this whole "objectivity" thing are actually the ones without clear rules. Proof? If that weren't the case, you wouldn't have a hundred different versions of truth or a hundred different philosophies out there—all claiming to be true. 😂

Well, you've certainly given me something to chew on. I suppose I wasn't being quite clear enough. Objective truth is a massive headache in its own right, but if we just look at it through the lens of everyday life—say, when we're discussing those undeniable, proven facts you find in a science textbook—then there are definitely clear criteria. We know the Earth orbits the Sun and that water is made of H2O molecules; those aren't matters of opinion. When it comes to values, though, we don't even need criteria at certain levels because, take a traditional, conservative community for example, those values are just assumed to be unquestionable, intuitively obvious, or even divinely ordained, so people don't debate them; they just live by them. But once a society fractures into various subcultures, each building its own ethical, aesthetic, and interpretive frameworks, you end up with a messy web of competing value systems. It leads to a breakdown in social cohesion, but that's a conversation for another day. As for how multiple philosophies can all be partially true, that was settled by the Hegelian synthesis and the ultimate conclusion of all philosophy: that truth is a whole.

Jason Gonzalez7 said:That's really interesting; I haven't come across this historical perspective before. Thanks. If you have any reading suggestions along these lines, please let me know...

But what happens when that autonomy clashes with state sovereignty?

I don't find anything wrong with that in a general sense either; I'm just using the term "ideology" here pejoratively, referring to a widespread and uncritically accepted dominant paradigm...

Yeah, consensus as an epistemological trend and the kind of relativism that shapes public opinion by claiming objectivity doesn't exist—it’s most obvious when you see someone leaving comments under an article in The New York Times.

But what's even more interesting is the phenomenon of denying the value of specific actions, events, or opinions. It's just this constant "everything is equally valid" mindset.

We really need to draw a line between truth and objectivity versus what we call "values." One side of that coin relies on much more concrete, measurable criteria, whereas values are essentially just a reflection of our collective spirit and whatever social norms happen to be in vogue at the moment. It’s pretty common sense, really—everyone knows that not everything carries the same weight or importance.