Problems associated with studying the brain

Paul Broca announced in 1861 that the region of the brain now named after him was the "seat of speech". Through a seminal study, researchers Nancy Kanwisher and Evelina Fedorenko from MIT announced on October 11, 2012, that Broca's area actually consists of two sub-units, and one of them specifically handles cognition when the body performed demanding tasks.

As researchers explore more on the subject, two things become clear.

The first: The more we think we know about the brain and go on to try and study it, the more we discover things we never knew existed. This is significant because, apart from giving researchers more avenues through which to explore the brain, it also details their, rather our, limits in terms of being able to predict how things really might work.

The biology is, after all, intact. Cells are cells, muscles are muscles, but through their complex interactions are born entirely new functionalities.

The second: how the cognitive-processing and the language-processing networks might communicate internally is unknown to us. This means we'll have to devise new ways of studying the brain, forcing it to flex some muscles over others by subjecting it to performing carefully crafted tasks.

Placing a person's brain under an fMRI scanner reveals a lot about which parts of the brain are being used at each moment, but now we realize we have no clue about how many parts are actually there! This places an onus on the researcher to devise tests that

1. Affect only specific areas of the brain;


2. If they have ended up affecting some other areas as well, allow the researcher to distinguish between the areas in terms of how they handle the test

Once this is done, we will finally understand both the functions and the limits of Broca's area, and also acquire pointers as to how it communicates with the rest of the brain.

A lot of predictability and antecedent research is held back because of humankind's inchoate visualization of the brain.

An experiment in propositional calculus

Q: Are truths simply objective reasons whose truth-values may or may not be verifiable?

A:

This question seems to possess a native paradox, but that simply arises from a logical error in the semantics: we can’t address unverifiable statements as “truths”. Instead, they are logically contingent statements.

Even so: As Wittgenstein says in the preface of his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, “In order to draw a limit of thinking, we should have to think both sides of this limit.” Similarly, in order to establish the objectivity of a statement, its subjectivity must be conclusively denied as well as its independence of subjective considerations verified.

The attainment of these conditions can be explored through Sir Ayer’s verification principle, the tenets of which were established in his 1926 opus, Language, Truth and Logic. However, it must be noted that Ayer denied, reasonably, that unempirical hypotheses may be formed on the basis of empirical engagements with reality. By extension, there exists an inherent denial of any transcendent reality, which in turn eliminates the presence of any objective truths.

At the same time, however, there exist objective literal truths, which are closer to being tautologies than truths themselves simply because they are a repetition of meaning whose propositional variables are actually fixed and whose truth-value is also fixed.

During an argument, negation and affirmation are used to establish the value of a propositional formula. The formula could be any statement whose propositional variables can assume different values. For instance, the statement S has an unverified propositional value.

S: Smoking is disagreeable; drinking is agreeable.

To some, S will make sense while, to some others, S won’t make any sense at all. In order to establish the truth-value of S, we explore the existence of a logical system that is consistent with the value of S being both true and false. This is unlikely because it contradicts our logical framework itself. Then, the next step is to understand the structure of a logical system in which S is either true or false and such that the value of one propositional variable impacts the value of the second propositional variable directly.

In other words, we make S a formula with two variables, X and Y, and find out how the values of X and Y are consistent/inconsistent with each other while they exist in the framework of the same set of logical principles.

S: X • Y

If we now hypothesize that X cannot retain its value while Y’s value is held fixed, then we pursue the negation of this hypothesis in order to establish that S is true. If we affirm the hypothesis, then we will prove that S is false. In the course of either of these arguments, we repeatedly hypothesize and evaluate the truth-value of each, and proceed until we have with a hypothesis that corroborates or denies the parent hypothesis and so renders the statement as either true or false.

However, if a rhetorical tautology cannot be assumed to constitute a reason (because it is a repetition of meaning), and if Wittgenstein’s proposition that tautologies are statements deducible logically and therefore meaningless is true, then the tenets of propositional logic are neither tautologies nor analytic truths.

Moreover, no literal significance can be assigned to logically valid statements according to Sir Ayer! In this context, the existence of any literal significance of logically valid statements depends not on their analytic proposition but their synthetic proposition – as affirmed by Sir Ayer. (Here, according to George Berkeley: “esse est percipi”!)

The spoken word

What is the purpose of political correctness? Is it to hone language down to its permissible essentials and wean out potentially harmful phrases? Or is it to go beyond that and reinforce its "goodness" and necessity?

When being consciously politically correct, I'm saying one thing but meaning quite something else. The point is if I've already thought something, why does not saying it purported to make a difference? Even if the concern is that the statement is then set in stone and becomes a part of history, wanting to erase it and instead provide an alternative that sheds all insinuations and prejudices is more despicable.

The politically correct statement or phrase seems to have been constructed only to avoid uncomfortable silences in the present. In the long run, however, it masks very real tendencies in favour of a reality that perpetuates the existence of political correctness. It encourages self-censorship and restraint when expressing thoughts deemed unpalatable by others, even if only to the extent that those who speak their minds are driven underground and forced to engage in samizdat than in open discussion. Ultimately, if I'm politically correct today, I'll have to continue to be politically correct in the future.

Some would argue that the way to look at the need for political correctness is to look at the way the world would be without it. I see a world of difference. For instance, I could say something and mean it instead of having to disguise it in terms of politically correct phrases and imply that that's what I meant. I could call a black man "black" simply because I find it easy to identify him that way, not because I think calling him "black" is any sort of testament to his heritage.

By extension, it's necessary that we decouple politics and correctness not only in terms of language, but also such things like colours, flora, and fauna. Using the syntax but dissociating it from its semantics for the sake of avoiding political discomfort is nothing but the prostitution of language. It's the act of borrowing words to use them for purposes they were never intended to serve.

Being politically correct all the time is causing a harmful disconnect between the way we're thinking and what we're saying. To think that a) "This is what I mean" and then b) "This is what must be said to mean what I think it means" kills the nature of language to be native and organic. Under the influence of mechanical considerations and case-by-case replacements, the way we use language is transformed into something machine-like.

Are uncomfortable silences in the present so detestable as to risk the mechanization of expression?

The Spielberg-Kafka Impasse

The following are afterthoughts - as seems to have become the norm - concerning a good lecture by Prof. R. Radhakrishnan at the Asian College of Journalism on the 1st day of August, 2011.

--

Professionalism

I profess skill. Therefore, I join a profession. Do I therefore incur the responsibilities dictated by professionalism? Before we discuss the source of values, before we seek to include the mechanism of ethics in our discussion, it's important to address the basic conflict in the form of professionalism on the one hand and simply fulfilling responsibilities on the other.

Disregard the context for a minute: where do values come from? They are always self-imposed because they are the consequences of subjective evaluations of our reality by ourselves (they do not arise out of the context itself and, thus, the loss of context does not matter in understanding the nature of our values). When different people espouse different values, the institution no longer remains in a position to enjoin what those values are but still is able to hire or fire those it deems compatible with its goals.

Are values a priori? No. Are they necessary? They seem to be. Why? I've addressed this question earlier: the system of values that we deem necessary is a matter of personal choice; however, it is neither mandated nor forbidden. Are they the principle definitions of a general ethical code of conduct?

Possibly: the "goodness" quotient of the outcome of my actions is evaluated against the requirements of my profession together with certain humanistic unavoidables. In that light, my system of values - if any - is going to be influenced by the safeguarding of my interests and perhaps those of the organization, too. Values, I believe, are strictly a posteriori.

Freedom

Say what you will, freedom is a conversational piece. A flosculation. Perhaps its most palpable forms as such have all been macropolitical. In the micropolitical sense, however, it's a modality that gets diffused in various field logics, perhaps as a result of attempts by the freedom-seeker to contextualize it.

Reality itself has been undeniably victimized by such things as inflation and globalization: the "bigger picture" as I choose to see it does not step beyond the confines of my laptop. Consequently, my freedom is limited to the choices I will have a right to access and/or make, and so my freedom is to customize my Facebook profile, my freedom is my right to privacy on the web, and so forth.

There comes a difference when the macropolitical and the micropolitical engage, whereby a mitigating mediating force becomes apparent. When Gandhi asked those seeking to "do good" to consider what good they would do for the common man, did philanthropists and samaritans scurry to seek out the necessities of the common person? Or did they surmise the nature of the common man's micropolitical environment and scaled down the relevance of their ambitions?

In the name of what?

What am I speaking for? (Too many people go on at ACJ about how they've asked themselves this very question so many times - so what? I've asked myself the question many times, too, and I don't get the implied significance - are things all that ambivalent?).

Whether or not a collective is involved is irrelevant to me: as long as I am being representational, I will represent only that face of the collective that embodies all that is necessary for the representation to be accurate, i.e., like an individual who is the summa of all that the collective wishes communicated.

A minor reference to historicity becomes necessary (or, as Prof. Radhakrishnan chose to call it, temporality): to do something "in the name of an event that has become a part of history and acquired a political, social, cultural or economic flavour because of its eventual outcome."

(Say a man approaches a crossroads at which his friend awaits. The man says to his friend, "My cause is X." The friend replies, "I endorse your cause. Now, go forth." Presented with three options, the man picks the path straight ahead. He walks it, and its end he finds he has emerged a supporter of cause Y. Now, can the man's friend be said to endorse cause Y?)

What's your dharma?

Does idealism have its price in a world that constantly debates its pertinence? Is it fair to consistently toe the line as a matter of principle? Am I going to talk about just what shouldn't be talked about? It's the whole professionalism versus fundamentalism argument once more (I mean "fundamentalist" in its original sense).

Dharma is a perception of the self when between objective reality and subjective reality, and as such the former's existence is a matter of debate. However, irrespective of the conflict between a way of thinking and a way of practising, my dharma is a mechanism constituted by my experiences to model them (i.e., the ways).

However, there is some abrasion in the form of my individual autonomy. When extant in some reality, is it possible for me to not precipitate the antecedence of reality to my intervention? In other words, can I act without being acted upon, perhaps without reality having been presumptuous of my actions?

It wouldn't be right, I conclude, that the truth, per se, exists independent of my existence and so constitutes an independent reality with the employ of which I can reflect myself. Reality will always be antecedent of my intervention because I am involved in the constitution of that reality, and when I act, I can only do so in spaces that have room for the outcome/effect.

The truth is a negotiated simplification because I exist relative to a totality. (This reminds me of a post I wrote quite some time ago on the Whorf-Sapir hypothesis in linguistic theory.)

The simulacrum

When moving from being real to being intelligible, we move away from the objective existence of reality and toward the subjective counterpart (as if they're distinct!), and in the process attempt to include our understanding of reality. This "understanding" is encapsulated by the production of intelligibility (tied in with, but different from, the production of meaning).

So, what does it mean to have a point of view?

Just as in the previous statements, intelligibility also suffers from the marriage of existence and subjectivity: the question of a universally extant intelligibility is mired with the likelihood of the creation of new frames of knowledge in order to create such understanding. Just like the notion of freedom is extra-political, the moment we put something into words in order to understand it, we suffuse it with the persisting symbolism in language: a mediator rises like a snake on the bosom.

Ultimately, all of this condenses into the nature of the posthuman subject: just like Abhinavagupta's Shaivite position held that the individual consciousness is an individuation of the universal consciousness that is God, the posthuman is an individuation of the unified human entity. Being in possession of an emergent ontology, only the posthuman subject is capable of self-reflexivity, i.e., to avail the option of defying norms, etc., simply by availing the tools with which to study his reflection.

If you've read Edwin Abbott's Flatland (1884), the nature of self-reflexivity (as in social theories) can be explained by the inability of the two-dimensional objects to understand the real nature of the three-dimensional sphere. Going another way, it can also be analogized to the sphere's ability to view Flatland in its entirety while the lines and shapes can't.

And that brings us to...

The Spielberg-Kafka Impasse

Steven Spielberg must never adapt Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis for the silver-screen. Kafka's insectoid captured perhaps the uncapturable aspect of change and of displacement, and its now-Kafkaesque surrealism is befitting because it leaves ample space for interpretation.

If Spielberg made a movie out of it, the imagery would become set in stone, its changeable nature lost to the mass of readers who find solace in Kafka's consideration of such emotions. The posthuman would settle down back into the human entity, no longer capable of assuming different identities at will, the mediating ghosts would turn into phantoms, in their wake leaving a world incapable of change.

The Spielberg-Kafka Impasse

The following are afterthoughts - as seems to have become the norm - concerning a good lecture by Prof. R. Radhakrishnan at the Asian College of Journalism on the 1st day of August, 2011.

--

Professionalism

I profess skill. Therefore, I join a profession. Do I therefore incur the responsibilities dictated by professionalism? Before we discuss the source of values, before we seek to include the mechanism of ethics in our discussion, it's important to address the basic conflict in the form of professionalism on the one hand and simply fulfilling responsibilities on the other.

Disregard the context for a minute: where do values come from? They are always self-imposed because they are the consequences of subjective evaluations of our reality by ourselves (they do not arise out of the context itself and, thus, the loss of context does not matter in understanding the nature of our values). When different people espouse different values, the institution no longer remains in a position to enjoin what those values are but still is able to hire or fire those it deems compatible with its goals.

Are values a priori? No. Are they necessary? They seem to be. Why? I've addressed this question earlier: the system of values that we deem necessary is a matter of personal choice; however, it is neither mandated nor forbidden. Are they the principle definitions of a general ethical code of conduct?

Possibly: the "goodness" quotient of the outcome of my actions is evaluated against the requirements of my profession together with certain humanistic unavoidables. In that light, my system of values - if any - is going to be influenced by the safeguarding of my interests and perhaps those of the organization, too. Values, I believe, are strictly a posteriori.

Freedom

Say what you will, freedom is a conversational piece. A flosculation. Perhaps its most palpable forms as such have all been macropolitical. In the micropolitical sense, however, it's a modality that gets diffused in various field logics, perhaps as a result of attempts by the freedom-seeker to contextualize it.

Reality itself has been undeniably victimized by such things as inflation and globalization: the "bigger picture" as I choose to see it does not step beyond the confines of my laptop. Consequently, my freedom is limited to the choices I will have a right to access and/or make, and so my freedom is to customize my Facebook profile, my freedom is my right to privacy on the web, and so forth.

There comes a difference when the macropolitical and the micropolitical engage, whereby a mitigating mediating force becomes apparent. When Gandhi asked those seeking to "do good" to consider what good they would do for the common man, did philanthropists and samaritans scurry to seek out the necessities of the common person? Or did they surmise the nature of the common man's micropolitical environment and scaled down the relevance of their ambitions?

In the name of what?

What am I speaking for? (Too many people go on at ACJ about how they've asked themselves this very question so many times - so what? I've asked myself the question many times, too, and I don't get the implied significance - are things all that ambivalent?).

Whether or not a collective is involved is irrelevant to me: as long as I am being representational, I will represent only that face of the collective that embodies all that is necessary for the representation to be accurate, i.e., like an individual who is the summa of all that the collective wishes communicated.

A minor reference to historicity becomes necessary (or, as Prof. Radhakrishnan chose to call it, temporality): to do something "in the name of an event that has become a part of history and acquired a political, social, cultural or economic flavour because of its eventual outcome."

(Say a man approaches a crossroads at which his friend awaits. The man says to his friend, "My cause is X." The friend replies, "I endorse your cause. Now, go forth." Presented with three options, the man picks the path straight ahead. He walks it, and its end he finds he has emerged a supporter of cause Y. Now, can the man's friend be said to endorse cause Y?)

What's your dharma?

Does idealism have its price in a world that constantly debates its pertinence? Is it fair to consistently toe the line as a matter of principle? Am I going to talk about just what shouldn't be talked about? It's the whole professionalism versus fundamentalism argument once more (I mean "fundamentalist" in its original sense).

Dharma is a perception of the self when between objective reality and subjective reality, and as such the former's existence is a matter of debate. However, irrespective of the conflict between a way of thinking and a way of practising, my dharma is a mechanism constituted by my experiences to model them (i.e., the ways).

However, there is some abrasion in the form of my individual autonomy. When extant in some reality, is it possible for me to not precipitate the antecedence of reality to my intervention? In other words, can I act without being acted upon, perhaps without reality having been presumptuous of my actions?

It wouldn't be right, I conclude, that the truth, per se, exists independent of my existence and so constitutes an independent reality with the employ of which I can reflect myself. Reality will always be antecedent of my intervention because I am involved in the constitution of that reality, and when I act, I can only do so in spaces that have room for the outcome/effect.

The truth is a negotiated simplification because I exist relative to a totality. (This reminds me of a post I wrote quite some time ago on the Whorf-Sapir hypothesis in linguistic theory.)

The simulacrum

When moving from being real to being intelligible, we move away from the objective existence of reality and toward the subjective counterpart (as if they're distinct!), and in the process attempt to include our understanding of reality. This "understanding" is encapsulated by the production of intelligibility (tied in with, but different from, the production of meaning).

So, what does it mean to have a point of view?

Just as in the previous statements, intelligibility also suffers from the marriage of existence and subjectivity: the question of a universally extant intelligibility is mired with the likelihood of the creation of new frames of knowledge in order to create such understanding. Just like the notion of freedom is extra-political, the moment we put something into words in order to understand it, we suffuse it with the persisting symbolism in language: a mediator rises like a snake on the bosom.

Ultimately, all of this condenses into the nature of the posthuman subject: just like Abhinavagupta's Shaivite position held that the individual consciousness is an individuation of the universal consciousness that is God, the posthuman is an individuation of the unified human entity. Being in possession of an emergent ontology, only the posthuman subject is capable of self-reflexivity, i.e., to avail the option of defying norms, etc., simply by availing the tools with which to study his reflection.

If you've read Edwin Abbott's Flatland (1884), the nature of self-reflexivity (as in social theories) can be explained by the inability of the two-dimensional objects to understand the real nature of the three-dimensional sphere. Going another way, it can also be analogized to the sphere's ability to view Flatland in its entirety while the lines and shapes can't.

And that brings us to...

The Spielberg-Kafka Impasse

Steven Spielberg must never adapt Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis for the silver-screen. Kafka's insectoid captured perhaps the uncapturable aspect of change and of displacement, and its now-Kafkaesque surrealism is befitting because it leaves ample space for interpretation.

If Spielberg made a movie out of it, the imagery would become set in stone, its changeable nature lost to the mass of readers who find solace in Kafka's consideration of such emotions. The posthuman would settle down back into the human entity, no longer capable of assuming different identities at will, the mediating ghosts would turn into phantoms, in their wake leaving a world incapable of change.

Language and technique

In an institute of journalism, journalism is going to get skewed: it's internal constitution is going to be fiddled with for the sake of exposing its innards, it's histrionic framework is going to be altered for the sake of learning more about its history, and its perception by the students is going to be shaped by one painful case study at a time.

What must not be done at such an institution is get the language wrong.

Speaking the English wrong doesn't mean not knowing where to use which word and so forth - just the repeated (and increasingly frequently wrong) usage of a word will accomplish it. It doesn't do for the language itself to be the source of a journalist's delegitimization. Journalism is hinged upon the construction of meaning, and using the language awkwardly within the classrooms is only going to enforce the belief that for as long as the technical and more formally structured aspects of each story is got right, the journalist's job is done.

It's not even half-done. Good language and no technique always pays off more than good technique and no language.

Language and technique

In an institute of journalism, journalism is going to get skewed: it's internal constitution is going to be fiddled with for the sake of exposing its innards, it's histrionic framework is going to be altered for the sake of learning more about its history, and its perception by the students is going to be shaped by one painful case study at a time.

What must not be done at such an institution is get the language wrong.

Speaking the English wrong doesn't mean not knowing where to use which word and so forth - just the repeated (and increasingly frequently wrong) usage of a word will accomplish it. It doesn't do for the language itself to be the source of a journalist's delegitimization. Journalism is hinged upon the construction of meaning, and using the language awkwardly within the classrooms is only going to enforce the belief that for as long as the technical and more formally structured aspects of each story is got right, the journalist's job is done.

It's not even half-done. Good language and no technique always pays off more than good technique and no language.

Amor dictis

People are afraid to use words.
What are they afraid of?
That they will awaken some evil?
That in the moment of putting down one word after another, something hidden behind a mental door will peek out?
Yes.
But that is why I like to write.
I want to know what is behind that door.
I want to meet it.
I want to befriend it.
If it seems good enough, I will want to become it.
I write to know myself.

The bigger words are not just fancy contrivances.
No.
They are each a separate kind of meaning.
I could say I'm "happy".
I could say I'm "gay".
I could say I'm "joyous".
I pick "joyous".
It sounds more mature.
Beyond the simple mapping of sound to meaning, there is the emotion of the sound itself.
The words you know are "sound" + "meaning".
The words I know are "sound" + "meaning" + "sensation".
Remove the "meaning" for once.
Listen to words as "sound" + "sensation".
Haven't you ever sat and listened to the calls of a nightingale?
I have.
In the forests of Yercaud in south India.
That was when I wondered.
That was when I first took away the "meaning" and discovered music.

Have you ever said "vendetta" and thought it sounded like wood being chopped by knives?
Have you ever said "fabulous" and thought of the colour green?
Have you ever said "anathematic" instead of "despicable" and thought how antihero-like it sounds?
Have you ever wondered what the timbre of a word is?
Words are both written and spoken.
Have you ever wondered how novels are successes?
They are successes because the reader is able to read what the writer is able to write.
And vice versa.

Don't be afraid to use words.
That which we have a finite supply of is wasted when used.
That which we have an infinite supply of is wasted when unused.

Amor dictis

People are afraid to use words.
What are they afraid of?
That they will awaken some evil?
That in the moment of putting down one word after another, something hidden behind a mental door will peek out?
Yes.
But that is why I like to write.
I want to know what is behind that door.
I want to meet it.
I want to befriend it.
If it seems good enough, I will want to become it.
I write to know myself.

The bigger words are not just fancy contrivances.
No.
They are each a separate kind of meaning.
I could say I'm "happy".
I could say I'm "gay".
I could say I'm "joyous".
I pick "joyous".
It sounds more mature.
Beyond the simple mapping of sound to meaning, there is the emotion of the sound itself.
The words you know are "sound" + "meaning".
The words I know are "sound" + "meaning" + "sensation".
Remove the "meaning" for once.
Listen to words as "sound" + "sensation".
Haven't you ever sat and listened to the calls of a nightingale?
I have.
In the forests of Yercaud in south India.
That was when I wondered.
That was when I first took away the "meaning" and discovered music.

Have you ever said "vendetta" and thought it sounded like wood being chopped by knives?
Have you ever said "fabulous" and thought of the colour green?
Have you ever said "anathematic" instead of "despicable" and thought how antihero-like it sounds?
Have you ever wondered what the timbre of a word is?
Words are both written and spoken.
Have you ever wondered how novels are successes?
They are successes because the reader is able to read what the writer is able to write.
And vice versa.

Don't be afraid to use words.
That which we have a finite supply of is wasted when used.
That which we have an infinite supply of is wasted when unused.

What remains to be thought

Is the pursuit of the truth an altruistic objective?— Rand

Does there exist meaning outside of what is constructed through experience—i.e., through man's interaction with reality?

Id est:

Does there exist any truth outside of what is relevant in reality?— constructivism

How is relevance established?

What is the role of verification in establishing relevance?— Ayer

What are the necessary rules/methodologies/procedures that must be followed to conclusively 'verify something?— Popper

What remains to be thought

Is the pursuit of the truth an altruistic objective?— Rand

Does there exist meaning outside of what is constructed through experience—i.e., through man's interaction with reality?

Id est:

Does there exist any truth outside of what is relevant in reality?— constructivism

How is relevance established?

What is the role of verification in establishing relevance?— Ayer

What are the necessary rules/methodologies/procedures that must be followed to conclusively 'verify something?— Popper

Language, truth and knowledge

It would prove futile to address every incidence of curiosity by seeking out the requisite "knowledge" that constitutes the "knowable" volume of the subject through an isolationist perspective; it is also obviously futile to address the content in its entirety lest the curiosity—essentially the context within which any epistemological exegesis becomes meaningful—stands overwhelmed. If I were to associate any semantic weight with the idea of justice, I would ask: where does the knowledge, "the truth", of law arise from, what is the need that, in the eyes of those who partake of its provisions, it assesses, and what is the modality within which it finds realization? Could there exist an epistemological variable the evaluation of which represents a (quantitative or qualitative) difference between the cognitive value of a statement of truth and that of a statement of law, thereby, say, establishing the origin of the truth of law as being independent of the same social urges that are the domain (of applicability) of the sanctions it backs?

Language, truth and knowledge

It would prove futile to address every incidence of curiosity by seeking out the requisite "knowledge" that constitutes the "knowable" volume of the subject through an isolationist perspective; it is also obviously futile to address the content in its entirety lest the curiosity—essentially the context within which any epistemological exegesis becomes meaningful—stands overwhelmed. If I were to associate any semantic weight with the idea of justice, I would ask: where does the knowledge, "the truth", of law arise from, what is the need that, in the eyes of those who partake of its provisions, it assesses, and what is the modality within which it finds realization? Could there exist an epistemological variable the evaluation of which represents a (quantitative or qualitative) difference between the cognitive value of a statement of truth and that of a statement of law, thereby, say, establishing the origin of the truth of law as being independent of the same social urges that are the domain (of applicability) of the sanctions it backs?

The handicap of the FI

Something is wrong with the fog index calculation formula.

FI = 0.4*((WPS) + 100*(N_C/N))

(FI, fog index; WPS, words per sentence; N_C, no. of complex words; N, total no. of words)

It denotes the number of years of formal English education (FEE) required to understand a particular text. Readers' Digest articles have an FI of 12 while texts that require near-universal understanding have an FI of 8 (to give you a picture).

How is it that a person with only 16 years of FEE as I can write with an FI reaching 60? In other words, how does 16 years of FEE for a writer seem sufficient to necessitate 60 years of FEE for a reader?

The conclusion seems easy if the parameter of "formal English education" is omitted from the consideration because, if excluded, the quality of an academic background could be held as a nullifier.

The formula seems to have only a strong empirical backing, but nothing in the way of dimensional analysis—in a metaphysical sense—seems to indicate that the proffered combination of variables is equitable to #FEE.

The handicap of the FI

Something is wrong with the fog index calculation formula.

FI = 0.4*((WPS) + 100*(N_C/N))

(FI, fog index; WPS, words per sentence; N_C, no. of complex words; N, total no. of words)

It denotes the number of years of formal English education (FEE) required to understand a particular text. Readers' Digest articles have an FI of 12 while texts that require near-universal understanding have an FI of 8 (to give you a picture).

How is it that a person with only 16 years of FEE as I can write with an FI reaching 60? In other words, how does 16 years of FEE for a writer seem sufficient to necessitate 60 years of FEE for a reader?

The conclusion seems easy if the parameter of "formal English education" is omitted from the consideration because, if excluded, the quality of an academic background could be held as a nullifier.

The formula seems to have only a strong empirical backing, but nothing in the way of dimensional analysis—in a metaphysical sense—seems to indicate that the proffered combination of variables is equitable to #FEE.

Why A Language Resembles Physics So Much

Here's why a language is like physics. It's common knowledge that both of them help us understand the world: physics is a study of the physical word, a methodological inspection of every phenomenon we encounter, every experience we are affected by; language is tool of conveyance, and the passenger borne is meaning, and so by speaking in a language, we are only trapping the meaning of out thoughts in words and setting them afloat in a sea of communication. However, the world of physics is split into two distinct factions: the wave theorists' and the particle theorists' factions. How does this bode for language?

[caption id="" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Particle detection in a cloud chamber"][/caption]

The particle theorists see the world as being composed of discrete packets of energy that are, all of them, bound inexcusably by the law of conservation of energy and all the laws of thermodynamics. The wave theorists see the world as being seated on manifestations of energy being propagated as a continuous wave; in other words, the discretion as particles is discredited even though the law of conservation of energy and the laws of thermodynamics still hold.

Amongst particle theorists, all the energy that is present in this universe is a constitution of a very large number of packets, each of which contains a definite amount of energy that is unchanging over time. If a space contains twice as much energy as another, it does not mean the packets are twice as voluminous, it only means there are twice as many such packets. When we look out into this universe, all that we understand or all that there is to be understood at all can be done so if only there is an "amount" of meaning attached to it. Our interaction with this meaning is possible only through a tool that allows us to exchange meaning in the process - a tool like a word. A word can be said to contain a discrete amount of meaning. Even though different people may see it to be different amounts, the innate value of that meaning does not change over time. The adjective "beautiful" ascribes different amounts of beauty according to different people, and to each person therein, the amount of beauty the word describes is the same. However, "beautiful" never does come to ascribe ugliness to an object - apart from signifying its absence.

Words are discrete, like particles of meaning being strung together to create a large volume of meaning called a sentence. Sentences are then strung together to create a larger concatenation of meaning: it could be multi-dimensional, too, because a paragraph might discuss the properties of different objects through different adjectives and, in the process, create an array of meaning, so to speak. Now, if we were to zoom out to view the bigger picture, what we see is a language: there are grammatical rules that are the thermodynamic tyrants of communication, and then there are various other principles and theories that lay down how meaning is generated as well as understood - the "laws of conservation of meaning".

Even though we have described words to be discrete capsules that contain a set amount of meaning, it doesn't mean that the language as such prevents us from ascribing some amount of meaning to the gaps between these particles. Between one word and another, there is a boundary that prevents the spillage of any semantic entity, a boundary that holds it within a space in the confines of which it exists and can be understood. At the same time, with the combination of words, we create a "wave" of meaning that is present everywhere - even unto where "beautiful" and "pulchritudinous" can't reach, thereunto does "of a winsome exquisiteness surpassing the glow of a young star".

A Fatidical Caliginosity

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="130" caption="Here, there, everywhere!"][/caption]

As I sat absterging the world wide web for methods to model vortex streets, I came across one particularly agrestic site featuring, inadvertently, a vaticinating article on the caducity of some olidly spelt and nitidly pronounced words of the English language. A malison seemed to descend on the article that had included them, archetypically having been done so as roborants.

Those are only few of the fubsy words facing extinction from a language that continues to evolve with no mansuetude, constantly borrowing words to appease its speakers and exuviating words as and when the same speakers are done using them. A smart language, in other words, and over the course of the 20th century, it has come a long way in restructuring itself to be spoken more easily and, consequently, become more accessible and less embrangled in the eyes of those for whom it is a second language. As words changed, portmonteaus took shape and sentences became shorter, those encapsulations of meaning that were too specific to salvage any versatility - so very important these days - were sidelined with often methodical oppugnance. I don't think it's surprising at all that a language that is mutated on a daily basis begins to show Darwinian characteristics of evolution over the course of two centuries.