The machine, the ghost, and the limits of understanding: A Chomskyan thematic study

The title pretty much says it all 🙂 Just kidding...

This was such a fascinating lecture—and honestly, quite unusual from a Chomskyan thematic perspective. It dove into some deep stuff: whether the mind is finite, how Newtonian principles can actually help us study consciousness, the way Descartes’ Meditations almost feel like propaganda, and the whole debate over free will.

I'd love to hear what you all think about this—drop your thoughts or any comments below 🙂

ps: the audio is a bit quiet, so just a heads-up to turn your volume up after you finish watching 😁

Edward Flores4 said:The title pretty much says it all 🙂 Just kidding...

This was such a fascinating lecture—and honestly, quite unusual from a Chomskyan thematic perspective. It dove into some deep stuff: whether the mind is finite, how Newtonian principles can actually help us study consciousness, the way Descartes’ Meditations almost feel like propaganda, and the whole debate over free will.

I'd love to hear what you all think about this—drop your thoughts or any comments below 🙂

ps: the audio is a bit quiet, so just a heads-up to turn your volume up after you finish watching 😁

Really interesting talk... I've always felt a certain affinity for Chomsky's ideas—even if there are specific points where I disagree. Despite those outliers, I largely align with his views on human limitations, which is pretty much what I tend to post about here on the forum anyway. 😬

That was a fascinating lecture. Thanks for sharing the link.

Now, I can’t say I entirely agree with the premise here. I’m familiar with his argument—the idea that the mind should be studied with the same rigor as any other branch of the natural sciences—but I find myself pushing back. He speaks as if thought were merely a "secretion" of the mind, which would imply it functions much like a gland or some other biological mechanism. But there's a fundamental hitch in that logic: we can objectively observe physical secretions. Meanings and thoughts, however, don't play by those rules; they shift and take on entirely different roles depending on who is doing the thinking. Furthermore, while we can argue that physical secretions possess objective properties that exist regardless of our immediate needs or shifting beliefs, it’s far less certain that a thought holds a fixed meaning independent of the person experiencing it. One could attempt to argue this from a standpoint of idealism, perhaps, but that seems to fly directly in the face of the very natural science he’s trying to champion.

To build on that point about doing "harm to the natural sciences"—if you look closely, his entire lecture seems to be an attempt to shift away from that old-school, mechanistic view of how things are intelligible in the first place. It’s clearly his way of trying to prevent any actual "damage" to the scientific field. But, if I may, it feels like he's presenting a false dichotomy here. He acts as though those are our only two paths, but they aren't the only alternatives available to us. We don't have to be stuck choosing between res cogitans and res extensa, if we're going by the logic of Descartes; instead, we could take what we now understand about res extensa and use it to demonstrate that these two realms aren't nearly as distinct as they appear.

ironmarlin1 said:That was a fascinating lecture. Thanks for sharing the link.

Now, I can’t say I entirely agree with the premise here. I’m familiar with his argument—the idea that the mind should be studied with the same rigor as any other branch of the natural sciences—but I find myself pushing back. He speaks as if thought were merely a "secretion" of the mind, which would imply it functions much like a gland or some other biological mechanism. But there's a fundamental hitch in that logic: we can objectively observe physical secretions. Meanings and thoughts, however, don't play by those rules; they shift and take on entirely different roles depending on who is doing the thinking. Furthermore, while we can argue that physical secretions possess objective properties that exist regardless of our immediate needs or shifting beliefs, it’s far less certain that a thought holds a fixed meaning independent of the person experiencing it. One could attempt to argue this from a standpoint of idealism, perhaps, but that seems to fly directly in the face of the very natural science he’s trying to champion.

Yes, for me personally, reflecting on the limits of one's own understanding 😕 intuitively generates all sorts of paradoxes in my head; it seems to me that he is far too "comfortable" with that situation. Whereas I am not comfortable with it at all—quite the opposite. The only thing we share is the recognition that those limitations exist.

Anyway, it reminds me a bit of Harris's philosophy. Essentially, Chomsky argues that while we have limits and can't be certain about how the "mind" works, we also know nothing about what "matter" actually is. The layperson's assumption of what "matter" is has been completely shattered by quantum mechanics (though, from this lecture, I didn't quite notice if that started back with Newton, because as Chomsky points out, you learn it in school and take it for granted, even though it's counterintuitive. So yeah, the idea of a "graviton" felt totally intuitive to me 😬 just like it would to any young kid. 🤣)

And Sam Harris makes a similar claim regarding "morality": that we can't be certain about morality, just as we can't be certain about physical facts; so, where is the difference?

Still, I see a distinction, or at least I think I do—regarding the question posed by this student (or whoever she is)—which Chomsky doesn't even seem to have grasped. 😍

There is something paradoxical to me when the mind reasons about its own intellect, or when a moral subject moralizes about their own morality—it's as if my brain ties itself in knots at those points. 😬

lonegardener said:Yes, for me personally, reflecting on the limits of one's own understanding 😕 intuitively generates all sorts of paradoxes in my head; it seems to me that he is far too "comfortable" with that situation. Whereas I am not comfortable with it at all—quite the opposite. The only thing we share is the recognition that those limitations exist.

Anyway, it reminds me a bit of Harris's philosophy. Essentially, Chomsky argues that while we have limits and can't be certain about how the "mind" works, we also know nothing about what "matter" actually is. The layperson's assumption of what "matter" is has been completely shattered by quantum mechanics (though, from this lecture, I didn't quite notice if that started back with Newton, because as Chomsky points out, you learn it in school and take it for granted, even though it's counterintuitive. So yeah, the idea of a "graviton" felt totally intuitive to me 😬 just like it would to any young kid. 🤣)

And Sam Harris makes a similar claim regarding "morality": that we can't be certain about morality, just as we can't be certain about physical facts; so, where is the difference?

Still, I see a distinction, or at least I think I do—regarding the question posed by this student (or whoever she is)—which Chomsky doesn't even seem to have grasped. 😍

There is something paradoxical to me when the mind reasons about its own intellect, or when a moral subject moralizes about their own morality—it's as if my brain ties itself in knots at those points. 😬

Oh, absolutely—you’re thinking of that book by Douglas Hofstadter. I Am a Strange Loop I haven't gotten around to reading that one yet, but from what I gather, it deals with exactly those kinds of phenomena.

If you’ve been paying close attention, you'll notice that Chomsky tends to lean heavily on Descartes, Hume, and Locke. He’s clearly a devotee of Enlightenment thought and that whole concept of humanity possessing a fundamental "nature." To be fair, that idea has remained remarkably relevant since those days. In a certain light, he isn't wrong. However, just because we use the word doesn't mean we can simply conflate human nature with the kind of physical nature studied in the hard sciences through a bit of lazy equivocation.

I think I’ll find myself quoting Collingwood from... The Idea of History I decided to go a bit more in-depth here, mainly because I think it provides a much clearer overview of the core concept:

I’ve previously argued that Hume's assault on spiritual substance served as the true philosophical precursor to scientific history, primarily because it effectively dismantled those final, lingering traces of substantialism inherited from Greco-Roman thought. Back in section eight, I attempted to demonstrate how Locke and his circle were inadvertently pivoting the entire trajectory of philosophy toward the study of history, even if they hadn't quite realized they were steering the ship in that direction. What ultimately stalled eighteenth-century history from truly evolving into a scientific discipline—preventing it from finally harvesting the ripe fruits of the broader philosophical revolution—was this subtle, overlooked remnant of substantialism that still lingered within the Enlightenment’s ambitious attempt to craft a science of human nature. It’s a bit like how the ancient historians viewed the Roman character; they treated it as this perennial essence that didn't actually "emerge" through time, but rather existed as a constant, unchanging fixture. Similarly, the historians of the eighteenth century, despite their progressive realization that all genuine history is essentially the history of humanity, fell into the trap of assuming that human nature had remained perfectly intact since the dawn of creation, existing just as it did in their own era. They were still viewing human nature through a substantialist lens—as this fixed, immutable bedrock that sits beneath the shifting tides of historical change and the vast spectrum of human activity. In their view, while history itself might never repeat its specific patterns, the fundamental essence of being human remained eternally, stubbornly unaltered.

We see this underlying premise popping up in Montesquieu, of course, but it really serves as the bedrock for almost the entire philosophical landscape of the eighteenth century, stretching back even further than that. Think about it: The Cartesian innate ideas ara The ways of thinking which ara Natural to The human mind as such , everywhere and always. Then you have The Lockean view of human understanding, which operates on the assumption that the faculty is universal—it’s just that it hasn't quite fully blossomed yet in children, those with cognitive impairments, or people living in more primitive societies. Even when we look at the heavy hitters, like how The Kantian mind which as intuition is The source of space and time , as Understanding The source of The categories , and as reason The source of The Ideas of god , freedom, and immortality, is framed as a uniquely human construct, there is this unspoken leap. Kant essentially takes it for granted that this specific architecture is the only way a human mind can possibly function, now or ever. It’s a massive, unexamined assumption. And honestly, it’s so pervasive that even a skeptic as profound as Hume doesn't seem to escape it, a point I've touched upon before. In The Introduction to his Treatise of human Nature He expla... When I find myself wandering back through the dense, winding thickets of the *Treatise of Human Nature*, I’m often struck by how much we overlook the sheer weight of its implications. It isn't just a dusty relic of old philosophy; it’s a fundamental pivot point. I’ve often pointed out that Hume's attack on spiritual substance was The philosophical forerunner of scientific history because IT destroyed The Last vestiges of The substantialism in Greco-Roman thought. It was this specific intellectual demolition that cleared the path for everything that followed. You see, what prevented eighteenth-century history from becoming truly scientific—from actually reaping The full fruits of The philosophical revolution—was this subtle, almost invisible Relic of substantialism that remained tucked away inside The Enlightenment's quest for a science of human Nature. People wanted to study us, sure, but they were still clinging to the idea that there was some fixed, unchanging core to our being. They were trying to build a modern house on top of ancient foundations that were already crumbling. Back then, human Nature was conceived substantialistically as something static and permanent, an unvarying substratum underlying The course of historical changes and All human activities. It was like trying to map the ocean while assuming the water itself was made of solid granite. They couldn't grasp that the "self" wasn't a heavy, permanent anchor, but rather something far more fluid. It’s a fascinating tension. We move from the notion of The Cartesian innate ideas ara The ways of thinking which ara Natural to The human mind as such, everywhere and always, toward something much more fragmented and complex. Even when you look at The Lockean traditions or the massive scaffolding of The Kantian mind which as intuition is The source of space and time, as Understanding The source of The categories, and as reason The source of The Ideas of god, there is always this struggle to reconcile the perceived stability of the soul with the chaotic reality of experience. In the end, reading him is like watching a master architect dismantle a cathedral just to show you that the ground beneath it was shifting all along. He lays out the core objective of his entire life's work by suggesting that all scientific disciplines, regardless of how specialized they might feel, maintain some degree of connection to the essence of human nature. Even if a field seems to veer wildly off into its own niche, it eventually loops back around through one avenue or another. It’s almost like a cosmic orbit—no matter how far you think you've traveled away from the center, the gravity of our own fundamental nature eventually pulls the trajectory right back home. When one begins to peel back the layers of mathematics and natural philosophy, it feels less like studying dry equations and more like tracing the very nervous system of reality itself. There is this profound, almost dizzying sense that we aren't just calculating numbers on a page, but rather attempting to eavesdrop on the fundamental logic that keeps the stars in their orbits and the tides pulling against the shore. It’s a pursuit that sits right at the intersection of pure, abstract thought and the gritty, physical mechanics of the universe—a bridge built from logic that spans the gap between what we can perceive with our eyes and what we can only grasp through the sheer force of intellect., and When we sit down to untangle the messy, beautiful knot that is "Natural Religion," I find myself drifting back to those old debates about whether we can actually grasp the divine through nothing more than our own senses and logic. It’s a heavy topic, isn't it? One that feels both incredibly ancient and strangely modern, depending on how much coffee you've had. I often think about how we try to bridge that gap between the observable world—the physics we can measure and the biology we can map—and that elusive sense of something greater. There's this persistent tension between what we see in the mechanics of the universe and the intuitive pull toward a higher purpose. It reminds me of those long, winding discussions one might have over a quiet evening in a small New England town, where the silence of the woods seems to demand an explanation for its own existence. In many ways, the attempt to find God through nature alone is like trying to understand the ocean by studying a single seashell; you can learn so much about the tides, the salt, and the currents, but there’s always that overwhelming feeling that the vastness itself is telling a story your hands can't quite touch. We look at the intricate clockwork of the cosmos—much like the precision found in a high-end Swiss watch or even the complex systems we study in modern American engineering—and we wonder if there's a Designer behind the gears, or if the gears simply exist because they must. It’s a pursuit that sits right at the intersection of faith and reason, a place where the intellect tries to build a ladder to the heavens using only the rungs of empirical evidence. Whether that ladder holds or collapses under the weight of our skepticism is perhaps the most enduring question of the human experience.' (i.e. the three Cartesian sciences, mathematics, physics, and metaphysics) 'are in some measure dependent on the science of MAN: since they lie under the cognizance of men, and are judged of by their powers and faculties'. Consequently the 'science of man', that is, the science which investigates the 'principles and operations of our reasoning faculty', 'our tastes and sentiments', and 'men as united in society', is 'the only solid foundation for all the other sciences'.

Throughout this entire endeavor, Hume never seems to harbor even a glimmer of doubt that the human nature he’s dissecting within his philosophical framework is specifically the nature of a Westerner in the early 1700s—and that if this same project had been tackled in a vastly different era or a different corner of the globe, the conclusions might have looked entirely different. He operates under the persistent assumption that our capacity for reason, our specific sensibilities, and our emotional leanings are essentially static and immutable, serving as a fixed substrate that conditions all historical shifts. As I’ve mentioned before, his critique of spiritual substance should have, in theory, dismantled this notion of human nature being something rigid and perennial; yet, it failed to do so. Why? Because instead of spiritual substance, Hume simply installed the idea of fixed tendencies to link ideas together, and these "laws of association" were just as inflexible and eternal as any traditional substance.
Hume’s dismantling of spiritual substance essentially boiled down to the principle that we shouldn't divorce what a mind *is* from what a mind *does*. In his view, the essence of a mind is nothing more than its patterns of thought and action. Thus, the old concept of mental substance was effectively traded in for the concept of mental process. However, this didn't inherently pave the way for a historical understanding of the mind, primarily because not every process is a historical one. A process only becomes historical when it begins to generate its own internal logic; but according to Hume’s mechanics of the mind, these psychological laws are pre-packaged and unchangeable from the get-go. He didn't envision the mind as a system that learns to think or behave in novel ways as its activities evolve. While he surely believed that a successful science of human nature would spark progress in both the arts and sciences, he didn't believe it would happen by transforming human nature itself—he never even hinted that such a transformation was possible—but merely by sharpening our grasp of it.

From a purely philosophical standpoint, this perspective was riddled with contradictions. Think about it: if the thing we are striving to understand is something external to us—say, the chemical makeup of a compound—then gaining a deeper understanding of it doesn't actually change the substance of the compound itself. But if, conversely, the thing we are studying is our own capacity for comprehension, then advancing that science improves both the subject and the observer simultaneously. By refining our thoughts regarding the human intellect, we are, in effect, refining the intellect itself. Therefore, the historical evolution of the science of human nature necessitates a corresponding historical evolution in human nature itself. This crucial distinction was overlooked by Enlightenment thinkers because they modeled their pursuit of a psychology on the physical sciences, failing to see that the two aren't actually perfect parallels. Figures like Bacon had noted that mastering the laws of nature grants us greater dominion over it, which is undeniably true. Take coal tar, for instance: once we decode its chemistry, it stops being mere waste and transforms into a vital resource for dyes and resins, but those breakthroughs don't change the fundamental nature of the tar. Nature remains indifferent; it stays exactly what it is regardless of our level of insight. To frame this in Berkeleyan terms, it is God's thought, not ours, that defines reality; when we study nature, we aren't inventing anything new, we're just attempting to retrace God's own mental steps. The philosophers of the eighteenth century mistakenly assumed these same rules applied to the human mind—which they labeled "human nature" precisely to emphasize how much it resembled the physical world. They viewed human nature as a fixed entity that remains untouched by knowledge, behaving just like the physical world stays put.

Honestly, this reminds me somewhat of that particular brand of philosophy championed by Sam Harris. It’s as if he’s arguing that since we have inherent limitations—since we can't truly claim to grasp the inner workings of the 'mind'—well, we don't even know what 'matter' actually is, either. That secular assumption of what constitutes 'matter' has been utterly shattered by quantum mechanics. Though, to be fair, I didn't quite realize that this unraveling actually began back with Newton; much like how Chomsky points out, you learn these things in school and just accept them as common sense, even when they are wildly counterintuitive. For instance, the whole concept of a 'graviton' felt perfectly intuitive to me 😬 just like it would to any young child. 🤣

It feels as though he believes that if you simply fuse two different types of magic together—modern physics and modern conceptions of the mind—a solution will magically manifest from the collision.

And Sam Harris makes a similar claim regarding 'morality': that we cannot be certain about morality, but then again, we can't be certain about physical facts either; so, where is the distinction?

Yet, I do see a difference—or at least, I feel I do—regarding the question posed by this student (or whoever she is) that Chomsky seems to have missed entirely. 😍

Exactly; it's a philosophy built upon the erasure of distinctions rather than an attempt to explain them. Chomsky was referencing Libet's research, which, as he himself noted, says very little about actual human free will—especially given the temporal aspects of how decisions are made—but he failed to see how this strikes at the very heart of his own "theory."

There is something deeply paradoxical to me when the mind attempts to reason about its own cognition, or when a moral agent tries to moralize about their own morality—it's the kind of thought that makes my brain feel like it's tying itself into knots. 😬

Thomas Mann used to call that "nature probing itself." 😍
He suggested that, fundamentally, life cannot listen to itself; nature cannot fully translate itself into pure cognition. 🙂

lonegardener said:Yes, for me personally, reflecting on the limits of one's own understanding 😕 intuitively generates all sorts of paradoxes in my head; it seems to me that he is far too "comfortable" with that situation. Whereas I am not comfortable with it at all—quite the opposite. The only thing we share is the recognition that those limitations exist.

Anyway, it reminds me a bit of Harris's philosophy. Essentially, Chomsky argues that while we have limits and can't be certain about how the "mind" works, we also know nothing about what "matter" actually is. The layperson's assumption of what "matter" is has been completely shattered by quantum mechanics (though, from this lecture, I didn't quite notice if that started back with Newton, because as Chomsky points out, you learn it in school and take it for granted, even though it's counterintuitive. So yeah, the idea of a "graviton" felt totally intuitive to me 😬 just like it would to any young kid. 🤣)

And Sam Harris makes a similar claim regarding "morality": that we can't be certain about morality, just as we can't be certain about physical facts; so, where is the difference?

Still, I see a distinction, or at least I think I do—regarding the question posed by this student (or whoever she is)—which Chomsky doesn't even seem to have grasped. 😍

There is something paradoxical to me when the mind reasons about its own intellect, or when a moral subject moralizes about their own morality—it's as if my brain ties itself in knots at those points. 😬

Honestly, Chomsky has some pretty significant trouble hearing, and since that student sitting way back in the last row was speaking so softly—and sounded a bit nervous, too—it’s entirely possible he just didn't catch what she was saying.

If I’m following her train of thought correctly—and I think I am—she was basically asking how a "limited mind" can actually coexist with ethics, morality, and free will. To her, it seems like there just isn't any room left for free will once you factor that in.

If I’ve managed to wrap my head around what she was actually asking—then he basically handed her the answer on a silver platter. Look, we just can't shake the concept of free will, period. And if that reality doesn't neatly fit into the framework of our current explanations... well, then too bad for our explanatory possibilities. 🤷

I honestly don't see how a "limited mind" theory would actually undermine the concept of free will—nor do I see how it relates to what people call "Chomsky's theory" (and I say "theory" with a bit of a wink there, since he’s really just drawing logical conclusions from established facts).

Edward Flores4 said:Honestly, Chomsky has some pretty significant trouble hearing, and since that student sitting way back in the last row was speaking so softly—and sounded a bit nervous, too—it’s entirely possible he just didn't catch what she was saying.

If I’m following her train of thought correctly—and I think I am—she was basically asking how a "limited mind" can actually coexist with ethics, morality, and free will. To her, it seems like there just isn't any room left for free will once you factor that in.

If I’ve managed to wrap my head around what she was actually asking—then he basically handed her the answer on a silver platter. Look, we just can't shake the concept of free will, period. And if that reality doesn't neatly fit into the framework of our current explanations... well, then too bad for our explanatory possibilities. 🤷

I honestly don't see how a "limited mind" theory would actually undermine the concept of free will—nor do I see how it relates to what people call "Chomsky's theory" (and I say "theory" with a bit of a wink there, since he’s really just drawing logical conclusions from established facts).

It isn't that we "can't get rid of" free will—it's that we DO have it. And honestly, his response didn't sit right with me either. He claims that those experiments involving delayed consciousness regarding a decision "only show" that many decisions are made subconsciously. But "subconscious decisions" aren't "freedom"! In fact, subconscious decisions are the exact opposite of free will. They are arguably evidence that free will doesn't exist at all, and is instead just a side effect of self-awareness—the mind observing its own "decision" moments after it has already been made. Because the decision and the awareness of it happen so close together, it creates this illusion that the decision is a function of that awareness—a phantom "freedom" born of self-consciousness.

And if these "decisions" are determined—meaning they aren't free (sorry, compatibilists 👋)—then what is the point of any kind of "moral responsibility"? That seems to be the heart of what the student was getting at.

We’re all born with this raw sense of free will, right? But then society kicks in—parents, teachers, the whole neighborhood setup—and they start clamping down with all these arbitrary rules. It’s wild, really. They basically weaponize our own minds against us, turning our own internal compasses into tools of self-sabotage. We end up stuck in this endless, grinding tension, constantly desperate for some kind of breakthrough or a new perspective that might actually help us break free from the toxic loop of obsessions, hatred, jealousy, and fear that everyone else spent years shoving into our heads.

lonegardener said:It isn't that we "can't get rid of" free will—it's that we DO have it. And honestly, his response didn't sit right with me either. He claims that those experiments involving delayed consciousness regarding a decision "only show" that many decisions are made subconsciously. But "subconscious decisions" aren't "freedom"! In fact, subconscious decisions are the exact opposite of free will. They are arguably evidence that free will doesn't exist at all, and is instead just a side effect of self-awareness—the mind observing its own "decision" moments after it has already been made. Because the decision and the awareness of it happen so close together, it creates this illusion that the decision is a function of that awareness—a phantom "freedom" born of self-consciousness.

And if these "decisions" are determined—meaning they aren't free (sorry, compatibilists 👋)—then what is the point of any kind of "moral responsibility"? That seems to be the heart of what the student was getting at.

I hate to be the one to say it, but I think you've got a bit of a misunderstanding when it comes to how the subconscious works. See, when the subconscious is involved in making a choice, it’s still operating based on value systems that we’ve consciously adopted. In other words, a subconscious decision can be just as much an act of free will as a conscious one. 🤷

ps: It feels like there might be a slight disconnect in how Chomsky's points are being interpreted here, but hey, I'll go ahead and give the lecture another listen—paying extra close attention to the points you raised this time... then we can pick this back up.

Edward Flores4 said:I hate to be the one to say it, but I think you've got a bit of a misunderstanding when it comes to how the subconscious works. See, when the subconscious is involved in making a choice, it’s still operating based on value systems that we’ve consciously adopted. In other words, a subconscious decision can be just as much an act of free will as a conscious one. 🤷

ps: It feels like there might be a slight disconnect in how Chomsky's points are being interpreted here, but hey, I'll go ahead and give the lecture another listen—paying extra close attention to the points you raised this time... then we can pick this back up.

How can you be so sure? 🤷 If anything, Chomsky is actually pointing out the inherent limits of our understanding regarding how human decision-making works. I basically agree with him; it just feels like he’s taken a somewhat "comfortable" stance on the matter.

No, look—if decisions are made subconsciously, even when we think they're conscious, then it’s entirely possible that those "conscious" value systems of yours are also being formed subconsciously. 😬 If that's the case, what’s left of "free will"? Practically nothing. Value systems essentially assemble themselves as a function of the memes we encounter (combined with our prior state, which depends on genetic predisposition and previous exposure to various memes), and "decisions" are later made subconsciously based on those automatically formed values. We're about as "free" as a standard-issue robot, honestly. 😍 Luckily, I can't be "certain" about what I just wrote, precisely because of what Chomsky argues: the realization of the limitations of our own understanding of anything—starting with supposedly "simple" concepts like "matter," "contact," or "interaction."

Edward Flores4 said:I hate to be the one to say it, but I think you've got a bit of a misunderstanding when it comes to how the subconscious works. See, when the subconscious is involved in making a choice, it’s still operating based on value systems that we’ve consciously adopted. In other words, a subconscious decision can be just as much an act of free will as a conscious one. 🤷

ps: It feels like there might be a slight disconnect in how Chomsky's points are being interpreted here, but hey, I'll go ahead and give the lecture another listen—paying extra close attention to the points you raised this time... then we can pick this back up.

I don't see it that way. 🤣 Which points did I actually raise? Chomsky's point is pretty clear; it's just that his answer to that student's question didn't satisfy me, much like Sam Harris's philosophy doesn't satisfy me. That said, about 90% of what he said in the lecture really resonated with me. In fact, I'd say his way of thinking is closer to mine than yours.😬

ironmarlin1 said:That was a fascinating lecture. Thanks for sharing the link.

Now, I can’t say I entirely agree with the premise here. I’m familiar with his argument—the idea that the mind should be studied with the same rigor as any other branch of the natural sciences—but I find myself pushing back. He speaks as if thought were merely a "secretion" of the mind, which would imply it functions much like a gland or some other biological mechanism. But there's a fundamental hitch in that logic: we can objectively observe physical secretions. Meanings and thoughts, however, don't play by those rules; they shift and take on entirely different roles depending on who is doing the thinking. Furthermore, while we can argue that physical secretions possess objective properties that exist regardless of our immediate needs or shifting beliefs, it’s far less certain that a thought holds a fixed meaning independent of the person experiencing it. One could attempt to argue this from a standpoint of idealism, perhaps, but that seems to fly directly in the face of the very natural science he’s trying to champion.

So, are you suggesting we just stop studying the mind altogether, or do you actually have a specific alternative in mind?

It’s almost as if he were treating the concept of "secretion" as a literal biological process—you know, like how a gland functions in the body to release certain substances. But there’s a massive catch there, isn't there? The whole idea falls apart because, in reality, we can actually observe those physical secretions objectively. It's a bit of a logical leap that just doesn't hold up under scrutiny.

I think you might have gotten a little lost in the metaphor there—and honestly, it feels like you weren't really listening to what was being said. To set the record straight: Chomsky was actually citing Locke and Darwin, and it's from Darwin that that whole "secretion" metaphor actually comes from. 🤷

Beyond just that, we now understand that the "um" actually fires impulses through neural connections that jump right over the synapses—and honestly, you can observe those signals just as "objectively" as you could watch a gland secreting hormones. 🤷

On the other hand—and this is where things get interesting—meanings and thoughts aren't some universal constant. They don't just sit there waiting to be discovered; they actually play out quite differently depending on who you're talking to. It’s all about the role they play in a person's life, which varies wildly from one individual to the next.

If things didn't work that way, none of us would be able to make heads or tails of what anyone else is saying. Honestly, the way we're all talking to each other right now is a perfect little demonstration of how much of our communication relies on the fact that we experience most meanings in the exact same way—it’s really that shared understanding that allows us to actually make sense of one another.

I mean, I haven't exactly run into anyone who would go out of their way to argue that something tastes bitter when it's sweet, or insist that blue is actually red. As long as research sticks to these kinds of everyday, non-controversial concepts—you know, the stuff we all agree on—I honestly don't see any reason why they couldn't be used in objective studies. It’s pretty straightforward: when you're talking about things like "right," "blue," "warm," "cold," the number 15, "yesterday," a skyscraper, or even the moon, there really isn't any debate or any meaningfully different way to interpret those terms. They just mean what they mean. 🤷

ironmarlin1 said:To build on that point about doing "harm to the natural sciences"—if you look closely, his entire lecture seems to be an attempt to shift away from that old-school, mechanistic view of how things are intelligible in the first place. It’s clearly his way of trying to prevent any actual "damage" to the scientific field. But, if I may, it feels like he's presenting a false dichotomy here. He acts as though those are our only two paths, but they aren't the only alternatives available to us. We don't have to be stuck choosing between res cogitans and res extensa, if we're going by the logic of Descartes; instead, we could take what we now understand about res extensa and use it to demonstrate that these two realms aren't nearly as distinct as they appear.

I have to tell you, I really don't think you quite caught what Chomsky was getting at here. These kinds of lectures aren't something you can just listen to once and move on; you really need to sit with them, maybe two or three times, otherwise you walk away with the illusion that you've grasped it when you haven't.😁

He’s essentially pointing out that science moved away from the "mechanistic conception of intelligibility" a long time ago, replacing it with a "theoretical conception of intelligibility"—think of how Newton shook things up by introducing gravity, even though there wasn't a mechanical explanation for it back then. His point is that even within this newer "theoretical conception" (things like spacetime curvature or quantum entanglement), we are seeing a repeat of the same old errors that plagued the earlier mechanical models—specifically, the hunt for causes that are "yet to be discovered." There's a very real chance we'll run into the same kind of wall that Galileo and the other mechanists hit. The reason, of course, is simply that our minds have limits. It’s highly probable that those very limitations will prevent us from ever fully grasping certain natural phenomena—kind of like how a hamster is fundamentally limited when faced with a maze designed around prime numbers.

As for what you wrote... it barely touches the actual points he made.☕

lonegardener said:How can you be so sure? 🤷 If anything, Chomsky is actually pointing out the inherent limits of our understanding regarding how human decision-making works. I basically agree with him; it just feels like he’s taken a somewhat "comfortable" stance on the matter.

No, look—if decisions are made subconsciously, even when we think they're conscious, then it’s entirely possible that those "conscious" value systems of yours are also being formed subconsciously. 😬 If that's the case, what’s left of "free will"? Practically nothing. Value systems essentially assemble themselves as a function of the memes we encounter (combined with our prior state, which depends on genetic predisposition and previous exposure to various memes), and "decisions" are later made subconsciously based on those automatically formed values. We're about as "free" as a standard-issue robot, honestly. 😍 Luckily, I can't be "certain" about what I just wrote, precisely because of what Chomsky argues: the realization of the limitations of our own understanding of anything—starting with supposedly "simple" concepts like "matter," "contact," or "interaction."

I don't see it that way. 🤣 Which points did I actually raise? Chomsky's point is pretty clear; it's just that his answer to that student's question didn't satisfy me, much like Sam Harris's philosophy doesn't satisfy me. That said, about 90% of what he said in the lecture really resonated with me. In fact, I'd say his way of thinking is closer to mine than yours.😬

Unless you’re under the impression that the subconscious just pulls its standards out of thin air—or that some divine hand implanted those criteria directly into our brains—it’s pretty damn obvious that our pragmatic subconscious deals exclusively with value systems we've developed individually. 🤷

It just seems to me like he’s landed in a position that's—well, I don't know how else to put it—suspiciously "comfortable."

Of course it’s pleasant... for all those reasons I mentioned earlier. ☕

Honestly, I’m actually kind of relieved that I can’t be "certain" about anything I just wrote—and that’s largely thanks to what Chomsky says. There's something really profound about realizing just how limited our own understanding truly is, especially when you start digging into things we take for granted. We think we grasp these seemingly "simple" concepts like matter, contact, or basic interaction, but once you peel back the layers, you realize how little we actually know. It's a humbling way to look at it, really.

I'm really happy for you! 😍

I don't know—I'm just not seeing it that way myself.

That’s pretty much obvious, isn't it? 😁

What were the points I actually made?

Let's talk about free will—or rather, the massive headache that is the whole concept of free will. It’s one of those topics that seems simple enough when you’re grabbing a coffee, but once you start digging into the philosophy, you realize we’re basically staring into an abyss. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much our modern understanding of choice is tied up in these old-school debates. You have the classic tension between the idea that we are masters of our own destiny and the growing suspicion that we’re just complex biological machines reacting to inputs. It’s like being a character in a movie who thinks they're making decisions, while the script was actually written before the cameras even started rolling. If you look at the way thinkers like Hume approached the subject, there's this fascinating pivot. I pointed out that Hume's attack on spiritual substance was The philosophical forerunner of scientific history because IT destroyed The Last vestiges of The substantialism in Greco-Roman thought. That shift is huge, because it moves us away from seeing "the self" as some mystical, unchanging thing and starts treating human behavior as something we can actually study through cause and effect. It gets complicated when you factor in the legacy of the Enlightenment. What prevented eighteenth-century history fra becoming scientific by reaping The full fruits of The philosophical revolution was an unnoticed Relic of substantialism implicit in The Enlightenment's quest for a science of human Nature. People wanted to understand us, sure, but they still clung to this idea that there was a "soul" or a fixed "essence" driving the bus. They were stuck in that mindset where human Nature was conceived substantialistically as something static and permanent , an unvarying substratum underlying The course of historical changes and All human activities. When you move toward more modern views—think along the lines of what Sam Harris discusses—the argument becomes even sharper. If our brains are governed by the laws of physics, just like a planet orbiting a star or a ball rolling down a hill, where does that leave "choice"? It’s almost like we’re living in a Newtonian universe, where everything is predictable if you just have enough data, yet we feel this intense, subjective sense of agency. It’s a bit like the difference between how we view a computer program and how the user experiences it. To the programmer, every click is a logical result of code; to the user, it feels like an intuitive, spontaneous interaction. We are essentially caught between being the software and the user at the same time. Anyway, I don't want to go down a three-hour rabbit hole here, but it's worth pondering. Are we actually steering the ship, or are we just passengers who are convinced we're holding the wheel? 🤷

It’s pretty clear what Chomsky is getting at—I follow his logic—but I have to say, his response to that one student's question just didn't sit right with me. It felt a bit lacking.

I’m not sure if you caught the whole lecture, but right toward the end, that same student pushes back—she wasn't really satisfied with the first answer she got, so she circles back and asks the exact same question again. This time, though, she actually gets a very direct, concrete response. 🤷

Honestly, I’ve gotta say—I’m just as unsatisfied with Sam Harris’s philosophy as anyone else seems to be. It’s one of those things where you feel like you're missing a certain depth, you know?

I honestly don't see what the hell Sam Harris has to do with any of this—aside from the fact that I'm the one who kicked off both of these threads 🤷

But seriously, about 90% of what he was getting at during the lecture actually resonated with me. If anything, I’d say his way of looking at things is much closer to my own perspective than yours is.

That's only because you're operating under the baseless assumption that you actually know how my mind works 🙂

Edward Flores4 said:I have to tell you, I really don't think you quite caught what Chomsky was getting at here. These kinds of lectures aren't something you can just listen to once and move on; you really need to sit with them, maybe two or three times, otherwise you walk away with the illusion that you've grasped it when you haven't.😁

He’s essentially pointing out that science moved away from the "mechanistic conception of intelligibility" a long time ago, replacing it with a "theoretical conception of intelligibility"—think of how Newton shook things up by introducing gravity, even though there wasn't a mechanical explanation for it back then. His point is that even within this newer "theoretical conception" (things like spacetime curvature or quantum entanglement), we are seeing a repeat of the same old errors that plagued the earlier mechanical models—specifically, the hunt for causes that are "yet to be discovered." There's a very real chance we'll run into the same kind of wall that Galileo and the other mechanists hit. The reason, of course, is simply that our minds have limits. It’s highly probable that those very limitations will prevent us from ever fully grasping certain natural phenomena—kind of like how a hamster is fundamentally limited when faced with a maze designed around prime numbers.

As for what you wrote... it barely touches the actual points he made.☕

That’s a solid summary of his main argument, and in that sense, I’d say I 'agree' with him.

Another thing is that he seems... well, comfortable with the whole situation. I’m not. I can accept the theoretical premise that there's no guarantee we'll ever "prove the existence" of the graviton—but I still find the idea of a graviton intuitively more satisfying than Newton's "force field" concepts or things like quantum entanglement, which I find personally quite unsettling. 😬

His slightly ironic tone toward physicists is particularly interesting; though, honestly, I don't think he quite grasped what that student was getting at. She’s asking the exact question that fascinates me: Okay, so we are limited. If that's the case, what methodology do we use to arrive at moral principles? And why should we consider those principles "compelling" if we are operating under the realization that our understanding is so limited, even when dealing with things far simpler than morality?

It gets even more complicated—and much more paradoxical—when you stop looking at morality through a purely sociological lens, like just observing "how people behave over there." Instead, you look at *your own* relationship with *your own* morality within this entire framework of thought. Is there any information regarding human morality more reliable than what you gain through direct introspection? No amount of statistics can truly compete with that. 🤷

Edward Flores4 said:Unless you’re under the impression that the subconscious just pulls its standards out of thin air—or that some divine hand implanted those criteria directly into our brains—it’s pretty damn obvious that our pragmatic subconscious deals exclusively with value systems we've developed individually. 🤷

It just seems to me like he’s landed in a position that's—well, I don't know how else to put it—suspiciously "comfortable."

Of course it’s pleasant... for all those reasons I mentioned earlier. ☕

Honestly, I’m actually kind of relieved that I can’t be "certain" about anything I just wrote—and that’s largely thanks to what Chomsky says. There's something really profound about realizing just how limited our own understanding truly is, especially when you start digging into things we take for granted. We think we grasp these seemingly "simple" concepts like matter, contact, or basic interaction, but once you peel back the layers, you realize how little we actually know. It's a humbling way to look at it, really.

I'm really happy for you! 😍

I don't know—I'm just not seeing it that way myself.

That’s pretty much obvious, isn't it? 😁

What were the points I actually made?

Let's talk about free will—or rather, the massive headache that is the whole concept of free will. It’s one of those topics that seems simple enough when you’re grabbing a coffee, but once you start digging into the philosophy, you realize we’re basically staring into an abyss. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much our modern understanding of choice is tied up in these old-school debates. You have the classic tension between the idea that we are masters of our own destiny and the growing suspicion that we’re just complex biological machines reacting to inputs. It’s like being a character in a movie who thinks they're making decisions, while the script was actually written before the cameras even started rolling. If you look at the way thinkers like Hume approached the subject, there's this fascinating pivot. I pointed out that Hume's attack on spiritual substance was The philosophical forerunner of scientific history because IT destroyed The Last vestiges of The substantialism in Greco-Roman thought. That shift is huge, because it moves us away from seeing "the self" as some mystical, unchanging thing and starts treating human behavior as something we can actually study through cause and effect. It gets complicated when you factor in the legacy of the Enlightenment. What prevented eighteenth-century history fra becoming scientific by reaping The full fruits of The philosophical revolution was an unnoticed Relic of substantialism implicit in The Enlightenment's quest for a science of human Nature. People wanted to understand us, sure, but they still clung to this idea that there was a "soul" or a fixed "essence" driving the bus. They were stuck in that mindset where human Nature was conceived substantialistically as something static and permanent , an unvarying substratum underlying The course of historical changes and All human activities. When you move toward more modern views—think along the lines of what Sam Harris discusses—the argument becomes even sharper. If our brains are governed by the laws of physics, just like a planet orbiting a star or a ball rolling down a hill, where does that leave "choice"? It’s almost like we’re living in a Newtonian universe, where everything is predictable if you just have enough data, yet we feel this intense, subjective sense of agency. It’s a bit like the difference between how we view a computer program and how the user experiences it. To the programmer, every click is a logical result of code; to the user, it feels like an intuitive, spontaneous interaction. We are essentially caught between being the software and the user at the same time. Anyway, I don't want to go down a three-hour rabbit hole here, but it's worth pondering. Are we actually steering the ship, or are we just passengers who are convinced we're holding the wheel? 🤷

It’s pretty clear what Chomsky is getting at—I follow his logic—but I have to say, his response to that one student's question just didn't sit right with me. It felt a bit lacking.

I’m not sure if you caught the whole lecture, but right toward the end, that same student pushes back—she wasn't really satisfied with the first answer she got, so she circles back and asks the exact same question again. This time, though, she actually gets a very direct, concrete response. 🤷

Honestly, I’ve gotta say—I’m just as unsatisfied with Sam Harris’s philosophy as anyone else seems to be. It’s one of those things where you feel like you're missing a certain depth, you know?

I honestly don't see what the hell Sam Harris has to do with any of this—aside from the fact that I'm the one who kicked off both of these threads 🤷

But seriously, about 90% of what he was getting at during the lecture actually resonated with me. If anything, I’d say his way of looking at things is much closer to my own perspective than yours is.

That's only because you're operating under the baseless assumption that you actually know how my mind works 🙂

Exactly. Is that not what I said? I simply maintained that these "individually developed value systems" can, in fact, be assembled "subconsciously" through exposure to various memes. Where on earth did you pull 'God' from to balance your equation? My entire argument starts from the premise that there is no 'God'; instead, these value systems are just a mishmash created by the interaction of memes with a psychological framework whose receptivity to those memes is genetically limited—or rather, determined.

Edward Flores4 said:Unless you’re under the impression that the subconscious just pulls its standards out of thin air—or that some divine hand implanted those criteria directly into our brains—it’s pretty damn obvious that our pragmatic subconscious deals exclusively with value systems we've developed individually. 🤷

It just seems to me like he’s landed in a position that's—well, I don't know how else to put it—suspiciously "comfortable."

Of course it’s pleasant... for all those reasons I mentioned earlier. ☕

Honestly, I’m actually kind of relieved that I can’t be "certain" about anything I just wrote—and that’s largely thanks to what Chomsky says. There's something really profound about realizing just how limited our own understanding truly is, especially when you start digging into things we take for granted. We think we grasp these seemingly "simple" concepts like matter, contact, or basic interaction, but once you peel back the layers, you realize how little we actually know. It's a humbling way to look at it, really.

I'm really happy for you! 😍

I don't know—I'm just not seeing it that way myself.

That’s pretty much obvious, isn't it? 😁

What were the points I actually made?

Let's talk about free will—or rather, the massive headache that is the whole concept of free will. It’s one of those topics that seems simple enough when you’re grabbing a coffee, but once you start digging into the philosophy, you realize we’re basically staring into an abyss. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much our modern understanding of choice is tied up in these old-school debates. You have the classic tension between the idea that we are masters of our own destiny and the growing suspicion that we’re just complex biological machines reacting to inputs. It’s like being a character in a movie who thinks they're making decisions, while the script was actually written before the cameras even started rolling. If you look at the way thinkers like Hume approached the subject, there's this fascinating pivot. I pointed out that Hume's attack on spiritual substance was The philosophical forerunner of scientific history because IT destroyed The Last vestiges of The substantialism in Greco-Roman thought. That shift is huge, because it moves us away from seeing "the self" as some mystical, unchanging thing and starts treating human behavior as something we can actually study through cause and effect. It gets complicated when you factor in the legacy of the Enlightenment. What prevented eighteenth-century history fra becoming scientific by reaping The full fruits of The philosophical revolution was an unnoticed Relic of substantialism implicit in The Enlightenment's quest for a science of human Nature. People wanted to understand us, sure, but they still clung to this idea that there was a "soul" or a fixed "essence" driving the bus. They were stuck in that mindset where human Nature was conceived substantialistically as something static and permanent , an unvarying substratum underlying The course of historical changes and All human activities. When you move toward more modern views—think along the lines of what Sam Harris discusses—the argument becomes even sharper. If our brains are governed by the laws of physics, just like a planet orbiting a star or a ball rolling down a hill, where does that leave "choice"? It’s almost like we’re living in a Newtonian universe, where everything is predictable if you just have enough data, yet we feel this intense, subjective sense of agency. It’s a bit like the difference between how we view a computer program and how the user experiences it. To the programmer, every click is a logical result of code; to the user, it feels like an intuitive, spontaneous interaction. We are essentially caught between being the software and the user at the same time. Anyway, I don't want to go down a three-hour rabbit hole here, but it's worth pondering. Are we actually steering the ship, or are we just passengers who are convinced we're holding the wheel? 🤷

It’s pretty clear what Chomsky is getting at—I follow his logic—but I have to say, his response to that one student's question just didn't sit right with me. It felt a bit lacking.

I’m not sure if you caught the whole lecture, but right toward the end, that same student pushes back—she wasn't really satisfied with the first answer she got, so she circles back and asks the exact same question again. This time, though, she actually gets a very direct, concrete response. 🤷

Honestly, I’ve gotta say—I’m just as unsatisfied with Sam Harris’s philosophy as anyone else seems to be. It’s one of those things where you feel like you're missing a certain depth, you know?

I honestly don't see what the hell Sam Harris has to do with any of this—aside from the fact that I'm the one who kicked off both of these threads 🤷

But seriously, about 90% of what he was getting at during the lecture actually resonated with me. If anything, I’d say his way of looking at things is much closer to my own perspective than yours is.

That's only because you're operating under the baseless assumption that you actually know how my mind works 🙂

Sjeckaroš.
☕ 🤣

Edward Flores4 said:Unless you’re under the impression that the subconscious just pulls its standards out of thin air—or that some divine hand implanted those criteria directly into our brains—it’s pretty damn obvious that our pragmatic subconscious deals exclusively with value systems we've developed individually. 🤷

It just seems to me like he’s landed in a position that's—well, I don't know how else to put it—suspiciously "comfortable."

Of course it’s pleasant... for all those reasons I mentioned earlier. ☕

Honestly, I’m actually kind of relieved that I can’t be "certain" about anything I just wrote—and that’s largely thanks to what Chomsky says. There's something really profound about realizing just how limited our own understanding truly is, especially when you start digging into things we take for granted. We think we grasp these seemingly "simple" concepts like matter, contact, or basic interaction, but once you peel back the layers, you realize how little we actually know. It's a humbling way to look at it, really.

I'm really happy for you! 😍

I don't know—I'm just not seeing it that way myself.

That’s pretty much obvious, isn't it? 😁

What were the points I actually made?

Let's talk about free will—or rather, the massive headache that is the whole concept of free will. It’s one of those topics that seems simple enough when you’re grabbing a coffee, but once you start digging into the philosophy, you realize we’re basically staring into an abyss. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much our modern understanding of choice is tied up in these old-school debates. You have the classic tension between the idea that we are masters of our own destiny and the growing suspicion that we’re just complex biological machines reacting to inputs. It’s like being a character in a movie who thinks they're making decisions, while the script was actually written before the cameras even started rolling. If you look at the way thinkers like Hume approached the subject, there's this fascinating pivot. I pointed out that Hume's attack on spiritual substance was The philosophical forerunner of scientific history because IT destroyed The Last vestiges of The substantialism in Greco-Roman thought. That shift is huge, because it moves us away from seeing "the self" as some mystical, unchanging thing and starts treating human behavior as something we can actually study through cause and effect. It gets complicated when you factor in the legacy of the Enlightenment. What prevented eighteenth-century history fra becoming scientific by reaping The full fruits of The philosophical revolution was an unnoticed Relic of substantialism implicit in The Enlightenment's quest for a science of human Nature. People wanted to understand us, sure, but they still clung to this idea that there was a "soul" or a fixed "essence" driving the bus. They were stuck in that mindset where human Nature was conceived substantialistically as something static and permanent , an unvarying substratum underlying The course of historical changes and All human activities. When you move toward more modern views—think along the lines of what Sam Harris discusses—the argument becomes even sharper. If our brains are governed by the laws of physics, just like a planet orbiting a star or a ball rolling down a hill, where does that leave "choice"? It’s almost like we’re living in a Newtonian universe, where everything is predictable if you just have enough data, yet we feel this intense, subjective sense of agency. It’s a bit like the difference between how we view a computer program and how the user experiences it. To the programmer, every click is a logical result of code; to the user, it feels like an intuitive, spontaneous interaction. We are essentially caught between being the software and the user at the same time. Anyway, I don't want to go down a three-hour rabbit hole here, but it's worth pondering. Are we actually steering the ship, or are we just passengers who are convinced we're holding the wheel? 🤷

It’s pretty clear what Chomsky is getting at—I follow his logic—but I have to say, his response to that one student's question just didn't sit right with me. It felt a bit lacking.

I’m not sure if you caught the whole lecture, but right toward the end, that same student pushes back—she wasn't really satisfied with the first answer she got, so she circles back and asks the exact same question again. This time, though, she actually gets a very direct, concrete response. 🤷

Honestly, I’ve gotta say—I’m just as unsatisfied with Sam Harris’s philosophy as anyone else seems to be. It’s one of those things where you feel like you're missing a certain depth, you know?

I honestly don't see what the hell Sam Harris has to do with any of this—aside from the fact that I'm the one who kicked off both of these threads 🤷

But seriously, about 90% of what he was getting at during the lecture actually resonated with me. If anything, I’d say his way of looking at things is much closer to my own perspective than yours is.

That's only because you're operating under the baseless assumption that you actually know how my mind works 🙂

It seems you aren't following. 😬

Yes, she wasn't satisfied with the first answer, and I’d bet anything she wasn't satisfied with the second one either, even if it looks to you like she received a "concrete response." 😬

And I assume she wasn't, because I wasn't satisfied myself—I "recognized" her question, unlike Chomsky, or even you, or Sam Harris. There's your connection. It isn't about me starting both threads; it's about this being the central problem that interests me within this system of thought, and clearly, it's what interests that student as well.

Edward Flores4 said:Unless you’re under the impression that the subconscious just pulls its standards out of thin air—or that some divine hand implanted those criteria directly into our brains—it’s pretty damn obvious that our pragmatic subconscious deals exclusively with value systems we've developed individually. 🤷

It just seems to me like he’s landed in a position that's—well, I don't know how else to put it—suspiciously "comfortable."

Of course it’s pleasant... for all those reasons I mentioned earlier. ☕

Honestly, I’m actually kind of relieved that I can’t be "certain" about anything I just wrote—and that’s largely thanks to what Chomsky says. There's something really profound about realizing just how limited our own understanding truly is, especially when you start digging into things we take for granted. We think we grasp these seemingly "simple" concepts like matter, contact, or basic interaction, but once you peel back the layers, you realize how little we actually know. It's a humbling way to look at it, really.

I'm really happy for you! 😍

I don't know—I'm just not seeing it that way myself.

That’s pretty much obvious, isn't it? 😁

What were the points I actually made?

Let's talk about free will—or rather, the massive headache that is the whole concept of free will. It’s one of those topics that seems simple enough when you’re grabbing a coffee, but once you start digging into the philosophy, you realize we’re basically staring into an abyss. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much our modern understanding of choice is tied up in these old-school debates. You have the classic tension between the idea that we are masters of our own destiny and the growing suspicion that we’re just complex biological machines reacting to inputs. It’s like being a character in a movie who thinks they're making decisions, while the script was actually written before the cameras even started rolling. If you look at the way thinkers like Hume approached the subject, there's this fascinating pivot. I pointed out that Hume's attack on spiritual substance was The philosophical forerunner of scientific history because IT destroyed The Last vestiges of The substantialism in Greco-Roman thought. That shift is huge, because it moves us away from seeing "the self" as some mystical, unchanging thing and starts treating human behavior as something we can actually study through cause and effect. It gets complicated when you factor in the legacy of the Enlightenment. What prevented eighteenth-century history fra becoming scientific by reaping The full fruits of The philosophical revolution was an unnoticed Relic of substantialism implicit in The Enlightenment's quest for a science of human Nature. People wanted to understand us, sure, but they still clung to this idea that there was a "soul" or a fixed "essence" driving the bus. They were stuck in that mindset where human Nature was conceived substantialistically as something static and permanent , an unvarying substratum underlying The course of historical changes and All human activities. When you move toward more modern views—think along the lines of what Sam Harris discusses—the argument becomes even sharper. If our brains are governed by the laws of physics, just like a planet orbiting a star or a ball rolling down a hill, where does that leave "choice"? It’s almost like we’re living in a Newtonian universe, where everything is predictable if you just have enough data, yet we feel this intense, subjective sense of agency. It’s a bit like the difference between how we view a computer program and how the user experiences it. To the programmer, every click is a logical result of code; to the user, it feels like an intuitive, spontaneous interaction. We are essentially caught between being the software and the user at the same time. Anyway, I don't want to go down a three-hour rabbit hole here, but it's worth pondering. Are we actually steering the ship, or are we just passengers who are convinced we're holding the wheel? 🤷

It’s pretty clear what Chomsky is getting at—I follow his logic—but I have to say, his response to that one student's question just didn't sit right with me. It felt a bit lacking.

I’m not sure if you caught the whole lecture, but right toward the end, that same student pushes back—she wasn't really satisfied with the first answer she got, so she circles back and asks the exact same question again. This time, though, she actually gets a very direct, concrete response. 🤷

Honestly, I’ve gotta say—I’m just as unsatisfied with Sam Harris’s philosophy as anyone else seems to be. It’s one of those things where you feel like you're missing a certain depth, you know?

I honestly don't see what the hell Sam Harris has to do with any of this—aside from the fact that I'm the one who kicked off both of these threads 🤷

But seriously, about 90% of what he was getting at during the lecture actually resonated with me. If anything, I’d say his way of looking at things is much closer to my own perspective than yours is.

That's only because you're operating under the baseless assumption that you actually know how my mind works 🙂

Well, I could easily flip that back on you and say you're making a baseless assumption that my beliefs lack any foundation. 🤷 Honestly, this kind of petty trolling is pretty pointless to me.

(Okay, I'm kidding—sometimes this stuff can actually be interesting. 🤣)

lonegardener said:That’s a solid summary of his main argument, and in that sense, I’d say I 'agree' with him.

Another thing is that he seems... well, comfortable with the whole situation. I’m not. I can accept the theoretical premise that there's no guarantee we'll ever "prove the existence" of the graviton—but I still find the idea of a graviton intuitively more satisfying than Newton's "force field" concepts or things like quantum entanglement, which I find personally quite unsettling. 😬

His slightly ironic tone toward physicists is particularly interesting; though, honestly, I don't think he quite grasped what that student was getting at. She’s asking the exact question that fascinates me: Okay, so we are limited. If that's the case, what methodology do we use to arrive at moral principles? And why should we consider those principles "compelling" if we are operating under the realization that our understanding is so limited, even when dealing with things far simpler than morality?

It gets even more complicated—and much more paradoxical—when you stop looking at morality through a purely sociological lens, like just observing "how people behave over there." Instead, you look at *your own* relationship with *your own* morality within this entire framework of thought. Is there any information regarding human morality more reliable than what you gain through direct introspection? No amount of statistics can truly compete with that. 🤷

I don't quite follow—why would failing to understand a natural phenomenon interfere with our ability to make moral or ethical decisions?

I mean, would murder suddenly become okay just because we managed to scientifically prove the existence of an "afterlife"?

Can you actually point to an instance where a misunderstanding of the natural world makes a moral or ethical judgment invalid? Or is it just a feeling you have that these two things might somehow bleed into one another?

Because, honestly, I just don't see the issue here. 🤷

I can't quite wrap my head around what you're getting at here—it feels like we're missing a huge chunk of the conversation! It’s a bit like walking into a movie halfway through and trying to guess the plot based on a single line of dialogue. If there was a specific thought or a point you were trying to make, I'd love to hear the full version so I can actually dig into it with you. Feel free to lay it all out! kaže:
Yeah, exactly. Is that not what I was getting at? I’m just saying that those "individually developed value systems" we all claim to have can actually be assembled—subconsciously, really—just by being constantly exposed to different memes and cultural touchstones.

I honestly don't think it's possible to bypass that barrier. The subconscious mind just won't let you in unless your conscious self is already on board. It’s exactly why those stage hypnotists do what they do—they ask these super trivial, "yes-and" questions that seem harmless, but they're actually setting the trap. They're building a pattern of agreement to sneak in post-hypnotic suggestions under the radar. Without that initial, conscious "yes," you can't tap into those deeper subconscious mechanisms and psychological triggers. It's like trying to walk through a locked door without the key; if your conscious mind doesn't turn the lock first, the rest of the house stays closed off.

Look, I’m not exactly expecting you to just take my word for it—but then again, I shouldn't expect you to expect me to go through all this heavy lifting just to compensate for the fact that you aren't quite grasping how these subconscious mechanisms actually work. 🤣

Where exactly did you pull "God" from to throw into your math?

Goddammit! 🤣

Look, I’ve always felt that some people just love to tear things apart for the sake of being difficult—you know, those types who can't see the forest for the trees because they're too busy picking at every single leaf. It's like dealing with a professional nitpicker Quote who thinks they're doing us a favor by deconstructing everything until there's nothing left but dust. Honestly, it gets exhausting. ☕

nitpicker Quote 🙂

It looks like you're missing my point here. 😬

I get the feeling we’re both stuck in this loop of misunderstanding—it feels like a two-way street at this point. 😍

Well, I guess I could just as easily turn that around and say you're operating on the same unfounded assumption—that my beliefs don't actually have any real ground to stand on. 🤷

Absolutely. 😍

Honestly, all that petty back-and-forth and constant nitpicking just feels completely pointless to me.
Alright, I’ll admit it—I was lying. Sometimes you just have to stir the pot a little to keep things interesting, right? 🤣)

It isn't just some trivial thing when you're talking about someone else's fundamental way of thinking. If we were debating something concrete—like whether the sky is blue or what color a car should be—then sure, making assumptions would just be a cheap rhetorical trick. But this is different. I mean, seriously... how much could you actually know about my internal logic or the way my mind works? To think you could gather enough data to make even a semi-accurate guess about how compatible my thought process is with Chomsky's seems like a bit of a stretch, don't you think? 🤷

lonegardener said:How can you be so sure? 🤷 If anything, Chomsky is actually pointing out the inherent limits of our understanding regarding how human decision-making works. I basically agree with him; it just feels like he’s taken a somewhat "comfortable" stance on the matter.

No, look—if decisions are made subconsciously, even when we think they're conscious, then it’s entirely possible that those "conscious" value systems of yours are also being formed subconsciously. 😬 If that's the case, what’s left of "free will"? Practically nothing. Value systems essentially assemble themselves as a function of the memes we encounter (combined with our prior state, which depends on genetic predisposition and previous exposure to various memes), and "decisions" are later made subconsciously based on those automatically formed values. We're about as "free" as a standard-issue robot, honestly. 😍 Luckily, I can't be "certain" about what I just wrote, precisely because of what Chomsky argues: the realization of the limitations of our own understanding of anything—starting with supposedly "simple" concepts like "matter," "contact," or "interaction."

I don't see it that way. 🤣 Which points did I actually raise? Chomsky's point is pretty clear; it's just that his answer to that student's question didn't satisfy me, much like Sam Harris's philosophy doesn't satisfy me. That said, about 90% of what he said in the lecture really resonated with me. In fact, I'd say his way of thinking is closer to mine than yours.😬

It would seem that Chomsky failed to grasp the question and remains entirely unaware of the point you are making. Or perhaps he possesses an intuitive resistance to such a mode of thought, which is further evidenced by his comments regarding the futility of any discussion or argumentation, should one start from that particular assumption. Of course, viewed through that lens, every discussion truly is "meaningless," and according to that logic, he was merely being derisive, much like the rest of the crowd in the lecture hall. However, that mockery is merely proof of a "defense mechanism" that activates within a human when contemplating such matters; it certainly does not serve to invalidate your hypothesis.

That "response" was incredibly feeble. It was on the level of a cheap joke, one that, I must begrudgingly admit, caused a few of us to chuckle...

Edward Flores4 said:I don't quite follow—why would failing to understand a natural phenomenon interfere with our ability to make moral or ethical decisions?

I mean, would murder suddenly become okay just because we managed to scientifically prove the existence of an "afterlife"?

Can you actually point to an instance where a misunderstanding of the natural world makes a moral or ethical judgment invalid? Or is it just a feeling you have that these two things might somehow bleed into one another?

Because, honestly, I just don't see the issue here. 🤷

I don't see why murder isn't okay. 🤷 Is it just because that's how you feel? Or how Chomsky feels? Throughout history, murder has always been acceptable under certain circumstances—say, if a ruler does it to a subject. 🤷 (Even in ancient Rome, the head of the household had the legal right to kill a wife caught in adultery, and I assume he didn't even need rock-solid evidence to prove it happened, LOL). Therefore, you could argue that the idea of killing people is actually quite aligned with human nature. 🤷 Where does the idea come from that it isn't? In other words, where is the certainty that it isn't?

I honestly don't understand how people make decisions involving morality at all; it seems like I'm fundamentally incapable of it for some reason. 🤷 My own moral decisions are just this chaotic... mess, a total storm. Nothing coherent or well-rounded. They're just spur-of-the-moment things, mostly driven by some superficial sense of empathy, etc.