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| defending the platypus: an essay |
 Words
can be dangerous. Words can be misleading.
Words are so powerful that there is a debate in the linguistics community
on whether the language we use shapes our perception of reality or whether
it's the other way around. I.e., do the words we use shape how we see things?
Human language and the ability to communicate through signs and symbols is a remarkable accomplishment, from which art, music, literature, philosophy, semiotics, engineering, quantum physics, the future, is born. But as anyone who's studied philosophy knows, philosophers and abstract thinkers and such have a problem with something called recursion. Meaning, the arguments they use are self-referential, defined by their own prejudices and assumptions. How can we know that what we're thinking isn't influenced by our prejudices? Is it possible to be truly objective, omnipotent?  Oftentimes,
philosophers and people who deal with semantics and categories and such
get so wrapped up in their words that they lose sight of what's in front
of them. They'll look at a forest of trees, strong trunks growing out of
the ground, but for them the forest is a concept, and they can devise a
theorem that will disprove the existence of those trees, even while standing
in their shadows. I remember one time when I was in high school and, out
of boredom one day, I proved that I didn't exist. In 5 pages, using tried
and true logical deduction. The assumption I came up with was that no one
could prove to me that I WASN'T some disembodied head floating in a jar
in some weird dimension, and so therefore it was possible that I was. I
scared the hell out of myself.  Ever
hear of Xeno's paradox? Xeno was a philosopher back in ancient Greece who
came up with something called, oddly enough, Xeno's paradox. It goes like
this: you're trying to go from point a to point b. You cross half the distance
between a and b. But you still have half the distance remaining. So you
cross half that distance. But half the distance still remains.
And so on. If half the distance is always remaining, how do you ever actually
get to point b? According to Xeno's paradox, it's impossible. (While you
stand there dumbfounded, trying to figure this one out, Xeno will walk across
the room and hand you his business card.) Moral of the story? Always check
your premises. >
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