I’m looking at Volver as Ashley’s wife (was her name Melanie...?) from Gone with the wind 😁 To me, she was always far more compelling than the high-maintenance Scarlett, who did nothing but pout and whine for Ashley’s attention. Melanie, on the other hand, actually managed to land him without even trying 😉 😍 A pretty useful lesson, really
You have a pretty vivid imagination, Alice Cooper. Cher is 👍 Actually, think more along the lines of a blend between Patti Smith and Christiana Amanpour—not quite as thin, maybe, with the white hair of a certain kind of sorceress 😬 😎
I’ll leave this little poem to the Stalinists and their former enemies, the fascists, since their future looks to be... (A friend once remarked that "Marshall should have just executed all those Stalinists at Alcatraz instead of letting them get beaten by those rocks" 🙂 🤣 )
Amanda Jackson5 said:Honestly, this whole thing feels like nothing more than a recycled version of that ancient scholastic tug-of-war between nominalists and realists—a debate that’s been circling the drain forever under different names, usually led by people who wouldn't know a profound truth if it hit them in the face like a sudden burst of hot water. The reality is much simpler: mathematical facts and objects exist everywhere, period. Their truth isn't found in picking a side, but in the dialectical way they overcome that very opposition. Hegel actually wrapped this up quite elegantly by demonstrating that every single concept is essentially a unity of itself, its "other," and the union of those two parts—essentially acting as the synthesis of the universal, the particular, and the individual as its constituent moments.
Every truth is relative. Absolute truth is basically just the sum of all those individual relative truths—a concept that reminds me a bit of how Lenin used to frame things.
If this old scholastic debate persists under new labels, it implies there is an inherent momentum behind it. It suggests something is driving the discussion forward, fueled by a genuine curiosity to see where these arguments eventually lead. And then you step in with Hegel and claim it’s all a wash—that we're just spinning our wheels and that it's better to simply walk away from the argument altogether? 🕺 Is Hegel someone who merely places a period at the end of a sentence to close the loop, forcing us to fit everything within his predefined circle? Is that actually his intention? That is certainly the impression I get from your responses, which seem steeped in defeatism.
Strictly speaking, there is no functional distinction between a fact and the truth: if something is a fact, it is inherently true, and vice versa. This remains constant regardless of whether we are discussing the past, the present, or the future.
And yet, there is an intuitive gap between these two concepts—aside from the obvious distinction provided by the very fact that we possess two separate terms rather than just one. To our minds, "truth" feels far more expansive than a mere "fact." We tend to associate truth with the entire web of essential facts that we either haven't discovered yet or haven't managed to verify. This gives truth a sort of ethereal quality; it exists in a conceptual limbo, containing a certain void waiting to be filled. It encompasses every possible fact whereas a single fact merely points to one specific thing, another points to another, and so on.
In other words, truth is a concept rooted in what might be called the numinous—which is essentially a reflection of our own imperfection. - Consequently, when we speak of truth, we are usually referring to those facts we find ourselves questioning without having found the answers yet. We operate under the assumption that the answers exist—because where there is a question, there must be an answer—and we labor constantly to uncover them, even if the progress is agonizingly slow.
Olivia Smith2 said:If Stanford is seriously arguing that 2+2=4 is a "fact" based on the literal definition of *factum*—meaning an act, since an act is something that manifests—then I guess I should just agree and say I'd rather watch numbers frolic through a meadow... though I'm curious to see how they handle romance.
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By the way, abstraction isn't always synonymous with truth. 😉 Just because something can be abstracted doesn't mean it possesses a priori truth or that you can reduce reality down to a mere "fact." The same logic applies to things that are measurable—tangible, audible, visible, whatever. Being measurable doesn't mean those observations capture the full truth of a thing.
Conflating a fact with the truth is a fundamental failure to grasp the distinction between the universal and the particular, the synchronous and the diachronic, the finite and the infinite.
steelridge58 said:I actually feel quite strongly that it's the other way around, and while I can see how a fact could somehow masquerade as an illusion—making us perceive it as real when it isn't—if something truly is a fact, it simply cannot be an illusion, and if something was a fact yesterday but isn't anymore, that doesn't change the reality of what happened then. For instance, if the fact is that I burnt my dinner last night and it didn't happen today, that doesn't somehow retroactively turn yesterday's disaster into an illusion.
In my view, facts exist to serve the truth, because if I take the time to properly research something being presented as a fact, it helps me judge whether it really is a fact at all, what that fact actually signifies, how to interpret it correctly, and ultimately how all those details might make the broader truth within a specific context clearer, more transparent, and more accessible.
Unlike the vast history of philosophy where you find endless theories about what truth is, when we talk about scientific truth, we're looking at an empirical approach rather than a metaphysical one.
A fact is the very bedrock of science, and as Max Planck once put it, facts are essentially everything we are capable of measuring, - which I think speaks volumes about the fundamental divide between scientific discourse and philosophical inquiry.
Olivia Smith2 said:In post 306, you basically treated a perceived fact as absolute truth—which leaves the core issue untouched. It’s a bit silly (though I know plenty of people fall into that trap)—but that's where the "fact" enters the fray. Feel free to correct me if I'm off base, but an "abstract fact" is a bit of a misnomer. An abstraction is inherently true by its very nature; if it isn't, then can we even call it an abstraction?
Olivia Smith2 said:I’ve given you my answer. The reality is that a fact is tied strictly to appearance—so it can't really be labeled true or false on its own. A "factum" is essentially what pertains to appearance and action. Even in American English, we often use "fact" and "truth" interchangeably, though they aren't quite the same—don't you think? In the States, this distinction is even more pronounced. This is where the concept of *doxa* becomes so vital; it's really the only way to truly grapple with the realm of appearances.
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In other words, we’re looking at a matter of pure empiricism and how things actually present themselves. Or rather... Individualities. The truth is an abstract concept, really—something universal that exists far beyond our immediate reach. The reality of the situation is this. The truth of the moment.There are absolute truths, there are relative ones, but at the end of the day, they all fall under the umbrella of truth. It will always be an unchangeable fact that I existed—whether viewed from the perspective of 1066, 1544, or 1942, looking forward to the moment I finally come into being—but only... sada The year was 1969—an era defined by massive cultural shifts and technological leaps. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what that specific moment represents without more context, but looking back from today, that period feels like the last time the world truly felt like it was pivoting on its axis. 😬 Is that actually true?
To put it in Hegelian terms, a single fact is merely one fleeting moment within the broader scope of universal truth. A man is truth. Sandra Murphy33, Sigmund, Volver, and Macabre—those are simply the facts.
Facts are little more than an illusion. They shift constantly, tethered to specific moments and places; what held true yesterday might be completely obsolete by this afternoon. In reality, facts sit much closer to mere information than they do to actual truth. They are nothing more than isolated data points, whereas truth is meant to be universal.
Therefore, truth is really just a moment of accuracy within a piece of information or a fact. There is no such thing as an immutable, eternal truth—unless you count the paradox that everything is in a state of constant flux.
Take the concept of being "concrete," for instance... Look, Cervantes, if you’re so fond of examples, why don't you provide one? Give me something that applies equally to an ant and a human being, provided it isn't just some basic biological fact like "we're both made of matter" (and everything else that follows from that). 😉 😛
If we strip away any superficial similarities—like being living, finite, or limited—all that remains is the fundamental difference known as self-awareness.
Self-awareness is essentially the process of detaching oneself from the Whole. It was a necessary step to allow for a meaningful relationship with that Whole, enabling us to return to it in an entirely new way.
Mark Torres14 said:Look, ants and humans both live in this world. We’re built from the same biological building blocks. The fact that we can't talk to them just shows how limited and ignorant we are. If something holds philosophical truth for a human, it should hold true for an ant too. Or did I post this in the wrong subforum?
Here is where I think your logic falls short: 1. While ants and humans inhabit the same physical world, they experience it through entirely different lenses—at least within the context of this single reality we occupy.
2. The fact that we can't communicate doesn't inherently signal "weakness or ignorance." It might simply be that there is no functional necessity for such communication, despite our shared biological foundations. You seem to imply that shared origins mandate a capacity for communication, which is a questionable assumption.
3. Philosophical truths applicable to humans don't necessarily apply to ants, primarily because an ant doesn't engage in philosophical inquiry. This leaves us with a vague question: what exactly would "hold value" for an ant in the way it does for a human?
When we talk about what a human being actually is, we aren't discussing biology; we are engaging in philosophy. It is fundamentally an inquiry into existence itself—an investigation into why anything exists at all.
Humans are the only creatures that pose this question, and the only ones attempting to find an answer. This isn't some matter of "anthropocentrism." It is simply the reality that humans, unlike ants, are thinking beings.
One could argue that we lack definitive proof that an ant isn't also a thinking entity. It’s entirely possible. However, if such a mind exists, it operates within an ant-centric reality that shares zero common ground with our own. If there were any overlap, we would be able to establish a cognitive connection; we would recognize a sense of "thought" in them that aligns with our own understanding of the concept.
Since philosophy hasn't actually managed to crack the code on what a human being is—leaving religion and science to fight over the scraps of an answer—everything else feels like it’s just drifting aimlessly in the void... It's surreal. There is simply no solid ground to stand on.
The search for "Who am I?" remains an ongoing investigation.
"Who am I?" is one of those universal inquiries that remains perpetually relevant, simply because it is, at its core, an actual question. What does it even mean to be human? It’s a question people tend to ask when they're feeling particularly lost or perhaps just a bit too philosophical for their own good. If you're looking for a biological definition, sure, we can talk about DNA and evolutionary biology, but that feels like missing the point entirely. Realistically, being human is less about our physical makeup and more about this constant, messy struggle between instinct and intention. We are creatures driven by primal urges, yet we spend most of our lives trying to pretend those urges don't exist behind a veneer of civility and social etiquette. We build massive cities, complex legal systems, and intricate technologies, all while remaining fundamentally tethered to the same basic fears and desires that drove us thousands of years ago. To me, being human is defined by that specific tension—the capacity to act against our own self-interest for an idea, a belief, or another person. It's that unpredictable friction between what we are and what we attempt to become. It isn't always pretty, and it certainly isn't consistent, but it's the only thing that makes the whole endeavor worth observing. Or perhaps it’s just a question of what I am—what it actually means to be a human being.
If we all sat here offering our own individual perspectives on this philosophical question, we wouldn't actually get any closer to an answer. In fact, we’d likely just drift further away from it.
Ja It’s that one thing we all have in common: the ability to say "I." We all carry this identical perception of ourselves—that singular, internal sense of identity that exists in that fleeting moment right before consciousness fades. The concept of "mindset" is often treated like some magical elixir in self-help circles, but if you look closely, it’s really just a collection of ingrained patterns and mental habits that dictate how we process reality. It isn't about positive thinking or smiling through a crisis; it's about the underlying architecture of your perception. Most people drift through life reacting to external stimuli without ever questioning why they interpret certain events the way they do. They operate on autopilot, driven by subconscious biases and old conditioning that they mistake for objective truth. Realizing that your perspective is essentially a curated filter—one that can be dismantled and rebuilt—is the first step toward any kind of genuine agency. It’s a slow, tedious process of deconstructing your own illusions, and frankly, most people lack the discipline to actually follow through. When you look at this through the lens of Hegelian "fixation of identity," things get complicated. It’s that specific moment where a fluid process gets frozen into a static concept, and we mistake that snapshot for the whole reality. We tend to take a moving target and pretend it's a stationary object just so we can feel like we have a grip on it. In practice, that kind of intellectual rigidity usually leads to more confusion than clarity.
If modern philosophy decides a certain question is the most vital one, that’s where its focus will inevitably land—so isn't it essentially the same thing?
But why on earth would you categorize this as a historical issue? Because philosophy doesn't just sit around inventing its own homework. Instead, the tasks—the most pressing questions—are handed down by the specific historical moment, the era in which these philosophers actually exist.
And that historical moment is nothing more than "the present."