Author: Joan S

  • Sensation and Speech

    Sensation and Speech

    Language as Sensory Experience


    This probably fits more into linguistics than Philosophy of Language. Which is fine, since this isn’t a professional paper—haha.

    A quick disclaimer: these are just reflections from my own experience and self-observation. It actually started as a mindfulness exercise I do now and then. But when I began learning German, I realized how the number of languages sitting in my brain was making it harder to keep track of pronunciation.

    My Spanish accent leans Latin American and doesn’t require much effort. Interestingly, I’m better at pronouncing Mandarin than Japanese (which is, by bloodline, my heritage language). Maybe it’s because I’ve had more exposure to Chinese lately. My Spanish accent has always made it hard to speak French without some strange hybrid sound. The W/V/etc. of German is hard to get used to because of this. (Also, I’m incredibly self-conscious about the way I sound in both German and French—eeek.)

    In public school in Guam, we also learned Chamorro. That language includes some Portuguese influences—like the numbers, which are nearly identical. In fact, many Southeast Asian and Pacific Island languages reflect Portuguese influence due to Catholic missionaries in the 18th and 19th centuries. The Philippines, for instance, is a fascinating mosaic of native, Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese, and American English influences. There’s also a staggering number of local languages—hundreds, in fact—existing alongside the national Tagalog: Visayan, Ilocano, and so many more.

    It’s not so different in the (mostly former) French colonies. Many languages are a blend of French and native tongues—Creole French, for example. There are the French-speaking Caribbean islands. Algeria. Morocco. (People often forget just how vast the French empire was.) The syncretization of native and colonialist languages has always fascinated me. But I also wonder how it’s shaped the physical experience and expression of language—the act of pronunciation, if that makes sense.


    Take this simple example: two ways to say “Paul”/”Pol”, as I “hear” them:

    PAWL vs. POHL (this is simplified, not proper IPA)
  • Segue: A Slight Fugue

    The emptiness lingers like a wound I did not know still bled.

    I don’t know what to expect.

    Perhaps nothing at all.

    I keep forgetting that this armor was ne’er meant to be taken off.

    It should live under my skin.

    Mayhap it makes the blood less cold,

    The silence less cutting.

    I feel unfinished.

  • Hot Takes: Philosophers as Parasocial Figures

    Hot Takes: Philosophers as Parasocial Figures

    Uncertainty as a Friend

    There’s something I find in reading more “popular philosophy” that I often question: I find that a vast majority (from what I can tell) of writers do NOT speak to their personal biases in a straight-forward fashion. The two most major (and, perhaps presumptuous of me to say so: egregious) instances in my recent readings have been related to Wittgenstein, in both Ray Monk’s biography of Wittgenstein and (this is the more controversial one) in the afterward of Wittgenstein’s journals from the First World War (as translated and edited by Marjorie Perloff). In both cases, there appears to me a certain near-religious need to find redemption for a man who privately questioned his own morals with self-loathing.

    Back to the writing.

    First, in Ray Monk’s biography of Wittgenstein, there is a passage regarding the somewhat infamous “lectures” (read as: debates) with Wittgenstein and Alan Turing in the late 1930s. There is in mathematics, particularly once we hit computational and quantum studies, where certainty gives way to possibility. But that possibility is expansive, not reductive. Anyway, for our purposes, Turing and Wittgenstein never quite agreed and eventually Turing stopped attending the lectures altogether (despite Wittgenstein’s reported need to have Turing agree with him).

    Far from me to disagree with people who have easier access to research on the men and this time period, my problem is really in Monks’ treatment of Turing’s argument. At one point, he calls Turing’s thinking as “a mathematician’s paradise”, as if math had never strived to prove anything. In this case, I am incredibly biased because I have a STEM background. I originally (in somewhat hilarious coincidence) studied engineering before, half persuaded by the reticence of a fellow undergrad who thought it painful ; and the other half, the overwhelming value I put on what is and is not spoken, I switched to English education with (eventually) a second major in Philosophy.

    I’ve never really found the same experience somewhere else than my original alma mater, but that’s a segue for another time.

    But as for the comment regarding mathematical logic, I have always felt it to be… not quite right. Granted, neither Perloff nor Monk have STEM backgrounds and therefore their understanding of mathematical logic is somewhat framed (I think) in how Wittgenstein framed it in those “lectures”, which in turn was reconstructed by the notes of other attendees. None of this is in Turing’s favor, particularly as we begin to understand what has been called a kind of psychological illness: Math-based Anxiety. The rigorous rigidity of arithmetic can prove daunting to people, especially as children are forced to learn sometimes beyond their age level and certainly on the basis of memorization rather than in application.

    I’m not sure anyone in mathematics would agree with the idea of a “mathematician’s paradise” as a reasoning behind mathematical logic. As Wittgenstein’s truth tables can attest, there is an analogy to be made between higher level mathematics and language. A child’s understanding of language is formed slowly with time and development: simple sounds that lead to single-syllable words and, eventually, full sentences. Reading is its own kind of “proof”. An essay is an argument for or against some topic, but that too is often taught in a formulaic sense, particularly before graduate studies.

    As controversial as this might seem: I do not necessarily see the difference between the formulation of language and the formulation of mathematical algorithms. Both are structured in a way to be understood by others and both have a certain “order of operations”, even when the languages in question are formed subject or object first. Those languages are often reflective of the culture it originates from. An increasingly global word has artists performing songs in different languages within a track. English is often interspersed in other languages, just as much as English borrows from most western languages, though more obviously with German in my humble opinion

    As for Marjorie Perloff: my problem is simpler. She writes in the afterward that women as a whole had little influence over Wittgenstein. I’ve already discussed bisexual erasure before; I won’t hash it again. Needless to say, it sounds presumptuous, doesn’t it? In terms of facts, it is reported that Wittgenstein had close relations to his sisters (for the most part). A blog I once read once discussed GEM Anscombe as an “honorary man” (what?). And though his romance with Marguerite ended, it was not a short affair, nor was it without feeling. Even after that, Wittgenstein continued to be invested in her life, the type of work she did or did not do.

    And yet, the published interview with Marguerite has never seen translation (nor reprinting since the first Wittgenstein-Jahrbuch went out of print). I’m still trying to locate a copy since I of course ended up with the 2001/2002 Jahrbuch. Nothing is ever easy with Wittgenstein, even with him being dead for over half a century. As if there is some existential crisis to be had that a man could have relations with both men and women.

    The Bloomsbury group of Oxford must have seemed like a bunch of hedonists, when it is more a freedom than clinging to labels regarding sexuality and romance (neither mutually exclusive nor does one necessitate the other for validation).

    Maybe I’ll pivot to Turing. Even Monk notes how difficult it must have been for Turing to argue with Wittgenstein when surrounded by his disciples (a label Wittgenstein actually used). The deep irony of hearing Wittgenstein saying that Turing really actually agreed with him when Turing never said such. What else is there to do in that environment than remove yourself for your own sanity? Maybe we could learn more from Turing (again), especially with the anxiety over AI this day and age.

    Meanwhile, I’ll continue my subversion with using Wittgenstein to argue ethics of those like Ayn Rand. (Forewarning: I dislike her. Greatly. Ethical egoism is my moral antithesis. I find it necessary to disprove her at every chance I get. After all, she popularized the love triangle trope AT THE SAME TIME.)

    Until next time. Uncertainty is a friend. Let it be curiosity and live.

  • Research Update

    I found it. I found the goddamn interview with Marguerite de Chambrier (née Respinger). Plus, I found it for less than 40 euros so thank the stars for that.

    Here’s the official page for the publication:

    https://www.peterlang.com/document/1095569

    The article/paper in question:

    “Ludwig Wittgenstein war ein ‘Stern’ in meinen Leben” by Joseph GF Rothhaupt (Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, München) and Aidan Seery (Trinity College, Dublin)

    It includes excerpts from Marguerite’s personal autobiography (!!) alongside the interview. The title translates directly to: “Ludwig Wittgenstein was a ‘Star’ in my life”. Let’s just say this is an exciting time for me. (It’s depressing researching Skinner, okay?) And thankfully, it didn’t break my bank.

    Ah, to be an academic with no institution. Though, the question remains if being an academic requires being attached to an institution, given we have the terms “intellectual” (and the archaic “intelligentsia”, though I have a fondness for how it sounds) and “the scholar”. I suppose it’s semantics but litigation sometimes really hinges on interpretation. Not unlike translation.

    An aside: I should really look into that “Philosophy of Translation” book by Damion Searls. (Also does anyone else ever notice that a book’s titling and design either does or does not include those handy three letter acronyms for all sorts of degrees and professions. I am always a little leery when an author highlights credentials without context.) He helped with a new translation of the Tractatus which I’m interested in, given the context of the original English translation (Wittgenstein’s English was not very good when they began the translation).

  • The Parasocial as Collective Mythmaking: Ludwig Wittgenstein

    The Parasocial as Collective Mythmaking: Ludwig Wittgenstein

    Because we care too very much about the sex lives of dead people like Ludwig Wittgenstein.

    (That’s not sarcasm and you know it lol.)


    Introduction

    I have been, since about the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, thinking about the idea of “parasocial” relationships. In isolation, many countries (western countries in particular, I think) tilted into a heavily online culture, with social media becoming the main mode of communication and, eventually, a battleground for ideological warfare. Sometimes sportsmanship is optional. Cognitive dissonance being what it is, it’s easier to think “sportsmanship” can’t exist when all the marks of human presence—a face, a voice, the physical being—are missing.

    Maybe it’s all just a choose-your-own Goosebumps novel in 0s and 1s. Literature, of course, is never read the same way between two people. Not really. It’s both an oversimplification of how our brains operate and something purposefully opaque. Interpretation, like translation, is not linear. It is nuanced, requiring knowledge of the original author’s tone and style but also an interpretation of intention.

    (more…)