חדש באתר: עוזר בינה מלאכותית המבוסס על כתביו ושיעוריו של הרב מיכאל אברהם

Simplicity, Lesson 2

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This is an English translation (via GPT-5.4). Read the original Hebrew version.

This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.

🔗 Link to the original lecture

🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI

Table of Contents

  • [0:00] Abstraction and modern examples
  • [1:09] Conceptual definitions: extension and intension
  • [2:24] Searle’s Chinese room and artificial intelligence
  • [3:46] The intelligence of a computer and of animals
  • [5:19] The intelligence of water and solving equations
  • [7:24] Abstraction versus illustration in studying computers
  • [9:11] Theory and model in mathematics
  • [10:44] Building and Maimonides: primary category and derivative
  • [15:48] Non-transitive similarity in legislation
  • [17:57] Primary categories and derivatives on the Sabbath and in tort law
  • [27:56] The differences between prohibition and the Shulchan Arukh
  • [29:48] Analogy between different objects
  • [31:51] Abduction — a new stage in thinking
  • [33:46] Induction — why do bodies fall?
  • [35:03] Scientific abduction — building a theory
  • [40:44] Historical theory according to Carr
  • [47:36] The role of theory in selecting facts
  • [50:17] Einstein and phenomenological theory

Full Transcript

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Abstraction, abstractions. So last time I spoke a bit and gave a few examples of concepts of abstraction, of virtual space, where today, in our era, it seems to me much more natural to relate to abstraction—to the point that sometimes people may not even feel that what we actually did was an abstraction. This is not really the thing itself. We talked before about children; for me, for example, this phone is a kind of abstraction of the old telephone. Meaning, it sort of does the same job, just in a different way. A child won’t see any connection between those two things. That one is a dinosaur and it’s not even clear what you’re supposed to do with it, and this is a phone. Meaning, if you live inside this world, then you lose the ability even to understand that we’re dealing here with an abstraction. This is just the world. There are people for whom the virtual world is the real one, and the real world is just some strange analogy. Yes, if we exaggerate a little. But when we return to the logical question—what is abstraction, how do you do abstraction—then I said there are two ways to define concepts. You can define them by extension and by intension. An extensional and an intensional definition. A definition by extension is to try to list objects that instantiate those concepts. If I’m talking about a democratic state, I can define it by the features of a democratic state—that’s a definition by content, by intension. And I can define it by extension, simply by listing the democratic countries in the world, and that too is some kind of definition. What do these two definitions actually give me? They give me the ability to decide, about a given country, whether it belongs to the category of democratic states or not. With both of these definitions you can do that. If I go by content, then I try to compare the characteristics of that country to the characteristics of the concept. If I go by extension, then I simply look for that country to see whether it appears on the list or not. So the operation I’m performing is a completely different operation. But in principle there is supposed to be an equivalence between the two operations. Yes, it reminds me of examples that come to translate the operations a person performs in such a way that a machine could perform them too. For example, yes, John Searle’s Chinese room example. He says: suppose you seat a fluent Hebrew speaker in a closed room, and he has no idea what to do with Chinese. He has a huge barrel of Chinese letters. Okay? And he has a booklet, and each time someone asks him a question in Chinese—he has no idea what it means—he has to assemble some answer from the letters in the barrel. Okay? If he assembles an incorrect answer, he gets an electric shock. Okay? Let’s say we have infinite time; there is no time limit. Okay, so in the end the claim is that he could perhaps answer every question he receives with an answer.

[Speaker B] And he has an infinite capacity to learn from the shock. Yes, exactly.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So the claim is that in the end he could get to a state where he communicates with you in Chinese. And the question John Searle asks is whether this man really understands Chinese. Now, to any normal person it’s obvious that he doesn’t, but a person involved in artificial intelligence will tell you yes. Because for him, understanding Chinese means communicating in Chinese. Meaning, the mental operations that underlie the input-output system don’t interest him. Obviously the computer doesn’t imitate that, but that doesn’t matter to him. That’s why, for example—and this is actually a very interesting point about abstraction, I hadn’t thought of it—he speaks, for example, about the intelligence of a computer, or the intelligence of a bird, or I don’t know, of another animal. And they rank them; there are rankings of what kind of intelligence different animals have and where they are positioned relative to humans, how much IQ a monkey has and how much IQ a pigeon or a dolphin has. To me that’s absurd, because none of these creatures has IQ. The use of the concept of intelligence in those contexts is a very technical use that doesn’t really capture its true meaning.

[Speaker B] So what you’re saying is that artificial intelligence is a meaningless concept?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it’s a meaningful concept, but it isn’t intelligence. Meaning, never mind, it’s just terminology. Artificial intelligence. Yes, I’m saying it’s terminology because there is value in engaging in this field. I’m not claiming the field is worthless; it has meanings, it has implications. But I’m just saying that many times those who work in this field take the concept—which is of course a useful and efficient concept, and good to work with—but they take the concept as if it expresses an essence. And then they basically say that a human being is also some kind of… But it’s not that. It’s a completely different kind of creature. And in an extreme form you can talk about the intelligence of water. I talked about this, yes, the intelligence of water: it solves equations that no physicist knows how to solve, the Navier-Stokes equations. These are very complicated equations of continuous flow; no physicist knows how to solve them except in entirely trivial cases. Meaning, beyond that nobody knows how to solve them. Even computer simulations aren’t simple to do with those equations, though the computer maybe can, and the water itself solves all the problems. Put the water in any situation and it will somehow flow. So when it flows somehow, it is ostensibly solving the Navier-Stokes equation—there, factually, it knows how to flow. Now it’s clear to all of us that that’s nonsense. Here even people in artificial intelligence wouldn’t say that the water has intelligence, but essentially there is no difference between that and a computer. The computer doesn’t think either. The computer is simply a machine, like water, that is constructed in a way that symbolizes our thinking, because we built it. We didn’t build the water, or the laws of gravity, or whatever governs the water. Here we build it, and therefore it’s easier for us to talk—or more natural for us to talk—in terms of intelligence. And so this, for example, is a case of an abstraction that is very useful, but on the philosophical level it isn’t an abstraction at all, it’s an illustration. Meaning, the concept of intelligence itself is an abstraction, and we’re making it into an illustration. We’re trying to translate it into something more concrete. We often view that as abstraction. It’s illustration. So on the technical level it’s a very useful abstraction—it’s a fact that you can produce machines by analyzing what kind of intelligence you want, and how much intelligence, and what is required for such-and-such a level of intelligence. There are all sorts of theorems in computability: what is needed, what kind of network can do this kind of operation or that kind of operation. Meaning, these things are very useful. But they are useful only because we succeeded in making some kind of abstraction of the concept of intelligence. But in this case, in my view, it’s not abstraction; it’s illustration. Meaning, the concept of intelligence itself is an abstraction, and we’re trying to give it a concrete expression. And that brings me back to an aspect I spoke about last time: many times—or almost always—abstraction and illustration are two things constantly playing on the field against one another, but when we relate to them, many times we call illustration abstraction. Why? Because at the base of the illustration sits an abstraction that we don’t even put on the table. When we build a computer, the computer is an illustration of the abstract concept of intelligence; we’re trying to give it a concrete expression. But in order to do that, we had to take a mode of human operation, which is also something concrete, and try to abstract from it the modes of operation, the intelligence, the concept, detached from a concrete person in a concrete situation, trying to understand the forms of thought that appear in our brain or in our intellect. After we’ve done that abstraction, it’s possible to make a different illustration of it and then build a computer. That’s why many times illustrations are really only the second part, the final part of the work. First of all, you have to do some kind of abstraction. And I spoke about Aristotle and logic—he abstracted the forms of human thinking, which later made it possible for us to make an illustration by means of a computer, or what in technology is called an implementation by computer, of the abstract mechanisms that Aristotle arrived at through his abstraction. Therefore abstraction and illustration are concepts that are opposite on the one hand, but very confusing. And many times when we encounter an illustration, we call it abstraction because it’s the result of abstraction. Meaning, you can’t make a different illustration if in the background you haven’t already performed an abstraction. Because after you’ve done the abstraction, you’ve discovered some more general concept, and then you understand that the concept you started from is really only one illustration of that abstract concept, and you can also make another illustration of it—but for that, you had to arrive at the abstract concept. I spoke about theory and model in mathematics. Yes, there is a theory—group theory, or set theory, or various spaces—all these are theories, and there are certain models, each one of which is a model for the theory. Meaning, all the propositions of the theory hold for it. Numbers, for example—the numbers we’re familiar with are a model, not a theory. Number theory is a theory; it doesn’t deal with numbers. It can also deal with other entities, as long as they satisfy certain basic rules. Numbers are a model of that thing, and so numbers too can be described by number theory.

[Speaker C] Okay, but abstraction also has to derive from some concept. Meaning, abstraction isn’t floating in the air; it comes from something.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll get to that in just a moment—whether it comes from something or hits upon something—but in a moment I…

[Speaker C] …will talk about that today.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I don’t know if it’s three levels; in a moment I need to sharpen that a bit more. So the claim, basically, is that we have opposite processes of abstraction and illustration, but usually we do both things. Meaning, we don’t arrive from some abstract thing and look for illustrations of it. The things in our world are always concrete. In order to make an analogy from one concrete thing to another concrete thing, you have to abstract the first concrete thing, and then make another illustration of the abstract thing. And then there is an analogy between the two concrete things, because they are both illustrations of the same abstract thing. Let me give you an example of the trickiness involved here. In Maimonides, regarding the laws of building, just now I remembered this. In the laws of building, Maimonides speaks, for example, about making cheese—someone who makes cheese—as a derivative of building. Okay? And also making a tent is a derivative of building. Now the question is: what connection is there between making cheese and making a tent? What similarity is there between these two things? Making cheese is producing a block of cheese from milk, or from cheese particles if you like, and a tent is stretching a tent-sheet. What similarity is there between these two actions? No connection at all. Now Rabbi Isser Zalman, in an essay in Even HaEzel—the Kehillot Yaakov cites him—an essay of Rabbi Isser Zalman, where he argues that the primary category of building—and maybe this too we’ll talk about as abstraction, I hadn’t thought about it, electricity on the Sabbath and building, those are also interesting abstractions—building is basically building a house, what we’re familiar with. What is a house? You take, say, bricks, collect them together into a structure, and that structure contains within it a space. You create a space, and the structure that defines it is a structure built out of bricks. Meaning, the primary category of the labor of building is gathering parts in a way that creates a space. That process is called the primary category of building. Okay? Now that can have two derivatives. One derivative is when you gather parts in a way that does not create a space. So it’s not the primary category, because it’s something not entirely like the primary category, but it’s sufficiently similar to be prohibited by Torah law, and it’s called a derivative. Okay? How do you do that? Making cheese is such a case. You gather parts; it doesn’t create a space. You collect the parts and some kind of structure is created. That structure is not a space; you don’t use it the way you use a house, but you take parts, gather them together, create a structure—so that’s a derivative of building. Now a tent is the reverse. There is no gathering of parts in a tent, but there is creation of a space. The blanket, for example, that you spread above, is not gathered from parts; you place it above and it creates, encloses, some kind of space. So creating a space without gathering parts is also a derivative. Now something very interesting comes out: each of the derivatives resembles the primary category, but there is no similarity at all between the two derivatives themselves, because the primary category has two characteristics whose combination together—not the similarity between them, but their combination together—creates the primary category. Now if the resemblance of derivative A is in characteristic A, and the resemblance of derivative B is in characteristic B, then there is no similarity between the derivatives, even though both are derivatives of the same primary category.

[Speaker E] And why can’t you come and say that it’s cumulative? The moment you gathered parts and created a space, that’s what it has to be. There is no such thing as creating a space without parts, and there is no such thing as—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You could have said that, but the Talmud doesn’t assume that. The Talmud claims that there are primary categories and there are derivatives that can be merely similar to the primary categories and not identical to them. What is identical to the primary category is a primary category. Maimonides distinguishes between… there is the Kalkalat Shabbat at the beginning of the Mishnah of Tiferet Yisrael—he has a work there about primary categories and derivatives on the Sabbath, principles of the prohibited labors of the Sabbath, among them about primary categories and derivatives. There he discusses somewhat the question of how you define a primary category and a derivative, how similar it has to be. But this already appears in Maimonides himself: there are things that are quasi-primary categories, and there are things that are derivatives in the prohibited labors of the Sabbath—things that aren’t exactly the labor that was done in the Tabernacle, but the similarity is strong enough that the thing is not considered merely a derivative, but rather a…

[Speaker G] …primary category, a quasi-primary category.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because it has all the characteristics. Even though it’s not the same labor, all the essential characteristics appear there, so it’s a quasi-primary category. Therefore a derivative is always when the similarity lacks an essential characteristic—not a nonessential characteristic—and yet, of course, there are still enough essential characteristics for it to count as a Torah prohibition and not a rabbinic prohibition or something entirely permitted. In legal language, what is called “and/or.”

[Speaker E] What do you mean? Meaning either all the parts together…

[Speaker H] …or one of them.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] After you add the derivatives, it’s and/or. The “and” is the primary category and the “or” is the derivatives. Yes, exactly.

[Speaker I] What’s the practical difference? In this definition, what is “gathering parts”? Connecting parts?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So, that’s the claim of Rabbi Yitzhak Ze’ev HaLevi. He says that’s basically the definition of the labors. What?

[Speaker I] Isn’t it just accidental that you need to gather parts in order to have a space?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What does “accidental” mean? This is the labor called building a house—that’s where we started. It’s true that the Tabernacle wasn’t built out of bricks; that doesn’t matter. They gathered parts there in a different way. They gathered the sockets with the screens and with—never mind—but that too was gathering parts in a way that enclosed a space, okay?

[Speaker J] So making a tent was the labor—they wouldn’t have learned it from making cheese?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, obviously not. In this conception there’s no connection. Therefore the concept of similarity, which many times is perceived by us as a transitive concept—meaning, if A is similar to B and B is similar to C, then A is similar to C—that’s not true. It could be that A is similar to B in parameter X, and B is similar to C in parameter Y, and therefore you cannot infer that A is similar to C. The concept of similarity is not transitive, okay? Even full similarity with respect to one of the parameters—no, complete full similarity is transitive, yes, but something can be fully similar in one characteristic and lacking another characteristic. Now here, yes?

[Speaker H] Once you talked about the opposite example—winnowing and throwing and spitting—where one derivative is fused from two primary categories.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, that’s a fusion, right. That’s a fusion, and it’s really very interesting. Actually I hadn’t even thought of talking about these things, but maybe it’s worth discussing them more broadly, because there really it’s the opposite situation. What happens there is—after all, the Jerusalem Talmud brings it. One who spits four cubits is liable, liable because of winnowing—and some versions say because of throwing. It’s not clear whether it’s winnowing or throwing. Now ostensibly there is no connection between winnowing and throwing, right? Winnowing is where you winnow the grain and the wind blows away the chaff and the kernels fall down, a kind of sorting, yes? That’s winnowing. Winnowing, sorting, and sifting are basically three ways of separating. Therefore they are considered three primary categories only because all three were done in the Tabernacle; that’s the Talmud in Klal Gadol. So that’s winnowing. And throwing is taking something in the public domain and throwing it four cubits, as distinct from someone who carries four cubits in the public domain. Throwing is a derivative of carrying. Now regarding spitting—someone who spits on the Sabbath—it says in the Jerusalem Talmud that he is liable because of winnowing or throwing, depending on the version. So the Mishnah Berurah in Bi’ur Halakhah cites Rabbi Menasheh of Ilya, a disciple of the Vilna Gaon. He argues that this is a fusion of winnowing and throwing. It’s not two versions; it’s both together. It’s a fusion of winnowing and throwing. And basically the claim is—and the way I noticed this logical point is that there is an interesting logical point here. The truth is that in general we need to talk about primary categories and derivatives in this context; really I need to add that, I’ll make myself a note. What happens is that in the primary categories of tort law, for example, or in most places where there are primary categories, they have derivatives. From the fact that there are primary categories, it follows that there are derivatives—as the Talmud says in Bava Kamma. Now sometimes there is a derivative of one primary category, but sometimes the derivative belongs to two primary categories. In Bava Kamma 6, “their common denominator”: his stone, his knife, and his burden, which he placed on top of his roof and they were blown by a normal wind—or someone who takes manure out into the public domain—there are several examples there. And the Talmud shows that you can’t learn it from any one of the primary categories alone; you need to make a “common denominator” argument. There are two teachers here, the common denominator. There too there is a very interesting logical issue. The interesting thing is that in the primary categories on the Sabbath there is no derivative that is a derivative of more than one primary category. I don’t know of one. In the Talmud certainly there isn’t, and I don’t think there is an example in the medieval authorities (Rishonim) or the later authorities (Acharonim) either. At least I’ve never found one.

[Speaker K] There is no derivative of two?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] One that needs a common denominator in order to learn it, that needs two primary categories?

[Speaker L] No.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In tort law there is; in other places there is.

[Speaker L] Why in tort law do you always call that a derivative? The common denominator—you sometimes call it that.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It may be a common denominator or a derivative.

[Speaker L] Why? It’s a derivative of two primary categories.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] There there is no practical difference between a primary category and a derivative; only in the case of pebbles there it’s a derivative of a primary category with its same kind, so there it’s a practical difference whether it’s a primary category or a derivative. But on the Sabbath there is a practical difference, because for a primary category and its own derivative you incur one liability. In tort law that’s not relevant. But plainly it is a derivative. What is learned from a primary category is a derivative; what is learned from two primary categories is even more of a derivative, because you certainly can’t define it as one of the primary categories. At most you could define it as another primary category, but there is no other primary category.

[Speaker L] There is an attempt among the later authorities (Acharonim) to define it as the common denominator being something obligating. The common denominator obligates.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s what I mentioned before—Rozovsky there, the Brisker approach. In any event, the claim is that on the Sabbath there is no derivative of two primary categories. Just interesting—I discussed this with a very interesting Jew and didn’t hear an answer from him. He tried a few things, but not successfully. In any case, the only example I found is Rabbi Menasheh of Ilya, that spitting according to the Jerusalem Talmud—if that’s really what Rabbi Menasheh of Ilya claims—that it’s a combination of winnowing and throwing. Why? Because in winnowing you see—why do you need both? You can’t learn spitting from throwing. Why not? Because the assumption is that in spitting the wind takes it. It’s not the force of the spit itself, otherwise it would be like throwing. Rather, you expel it from the mouth and the wind takes it—at least for the four cubits you need the wind, because without that you don’t have the force to do it four cubits. So that’s how it works. You can’t learn it from throwing, because in throwing your force carries it the four cubits; here your force doesn’t do it, the wind does. From winnowing there is no real similarity to throwing from which to learn it. But from winnowing you can learn that if the wind is a partner in the action, that doesn’t detract, right? You don’t need to perform the action by yourself; you can activate the wind, because that’s what you do in winnowing, and the action is still attributed to you. The combination of both together creates spitting. Basically winnowing teaches… it’s not similar to throwing, not really. If I had to decide, it’s a derivative of throwing, not of winnowing. Winnowing only teaches you that even if you throw in a way that is aided by the wind, it’s still throwing.

[Speaker M] Maybe in winnowing, using a normal wind wasn’t something defined as his direct force? No. Whereas in tort law it is?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Correct. There is the Talmud—and the opposite—in the Talmud in HaKones, where the Talmud says “winnowing and the wind assists him.” There Rav Ashi says that this is indirect causation, and indirect causation on the Sabbath is liable because the Torah prohibited intentional craftsmanship, but in tort law not. There it’s in the opposite direction. What? Tosafot there in the case of the scatterer in Bava Batra—Tosafot talks there, or the Jerusalem Talmud, I don’t remember, Jerusalem Talmud.

[Speaker L] Tosafot on winnowing and on…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The Talmud makes that distinction. The Talmud gives four answers there, and Rav Ashi, the last one, says there is a difference between the Sabbath and tort law. On the Sabbath it is “the Torah prohibited intentional craftsmanship,” and there “intentional craftsmanship” is a stringency, not like usually where it goes leniently—that you’re exempt for an unintentional act or for a labor not needed for its own sake. There it’s a stringency, that indirect causation is liable, like Rashi there, the Rosh and Rashi. And in tort law, indirect causation is exempt, as in all of Torah. So it’s not something trivial that when you do something with the wind you’re liable. Plainly it’s indirect causation. Fine? Now from winnowing you learn that yes. And this is a dispute between Rashi and the Rosh there—whether from winnowing you can learn for all cases. Rashi claims that from there we learn that indirect causation is liable because the Torah prohibited intentional craftsmanship on the Sabbath. According to the Rosh, it’s only in winnowing, because that’s the normal way to do winnowing, so you can’t learn from it something general. But this Rabbi Menasheh of Ilya apparently goes with Rashi and not with the Rosh. And then the claim is basically that from winnowing you learn only that the assistance of the wind does not exempt. He says that it’s still your labor. But basically the labor you are doing is the labor of throwing, not the labor of winnowing. Fine? Because you are moving it four cubits in the public domain; it’s just that your own force doesn’t do it, rather with the help of the wind. So winnowing shows that that’s okay. So here you see a fusion of two things, but it’s not an equal fusion like in building, which is a fusion of creating space and gathering parts. Here it’s basically throwing. Winnowing only comes to remove an objection: what is unique about spitting? That the wind assists it. Winnowing proves that this doesn’t matter—meaning, even if the wind assists it. But in principle it’s a derivative of throwing. If I go back to… look, now I’m drifting a bit—but if I go back to the Talmud on page 6 there in Bava Kamma about the derivative of two things, after all the Rosh there brings… there are those who say two methods; I argue there are three methods as to how to relate to his stone, his knife, and his burden, which he placed on top of the roof and they were blown by a normal wind and caused damage. So it’s a derivative of fire and pit. Right? Since they caused damage after coming to rest. It’s a derivative of fire and pit together. So the Rosh there brings: there are some of the great ones who said that it’s a derivative of both, and therefore here you have both the exemptions of fire and the exemptions of pit. Meaning exemption for vessels and exemption for hidden objects. Okay? And he argues that the entire law of pit applies to it. Meaning this is a derivative of pit. So what about fire? Fire does exactly the same work as here. Fire just says that the fact that it got here by means of the wind—you didn’t dig the pit; you put it up high, and the wind brought it down. The fact that the wind took part here doesn’t interfere. But when you ask me: a derivative of which primary category of damage is this? It’s pit, because it caused damage after it came to rest; it did not cause damage while moving. So here fire only removes an objection or a weakness, but essentially it resembles pit, okay? Exactly the same thing with winnowing.

[Speaker I] Who says that this objection is also removed in the case of hidden objects? What? Who says that the objection is removed there too if there is an exemption of fire? I didn’t understand. If fire has an exemption for hidden objects—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then the Rosh argues that there won’t be the exemption of fire in this law.

[Speaker I] Ah, makes sense—there are the exemptions of fire…

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] …and there are also the exemptions of pit. No, the Rosh argues that the exemption for hidden objects won’t apply.

[Speaker I] Why? Why is the objection removed in a place where there are hidden objects, where it’s hidden?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the question on the Rosh. The simple logical conception is like the great ones regarding fire. The Rosh says no. In a case where you’re only removing an objection, then basically it goes back to being a derivative of pit, and all the laws of pit apply. Meaning, it will be liable for hidden objects, even though ostensibly in the case of hidden objects, if you go back and try to learn it, you won’t be able to prove it, because in the case of hidden objects fire cannot prove it. This is connected to the Brisker Rav that was mentioned before. The Brisker Rav argues that you don’t really learn this from the two sides, but rather from the common denominator, and then the exemptions apply to their own specific laws. On page 5, what the Talmud says there is that you need to learn the exemptions, not the liabilities. And then if the common denominator exists here, then you obligate, you impose liability. Now let’s see the exemptions—and the exemptions aren’t here.

[Speaker K] Okay, someone who transfers from one domain to another within four cubits—that certainly isn’t by means of the wind. So it must be only by his own force.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then there aren’t four cubits, so he isn’t liable. There is no throwing; throwing less than four—ah, from domain to domain? Yes, so what? Then it’s because of throwing. Meaning, throwing is only in the public domain. Throwing is only in the public domain. If you throw from the private domain to the public domain, then the question is where the initial uprooting is, where the placing down is. The uprooting was… the placing down—“something intercepted is considered as though placed down”—so here we need to discuss many other things. It’s not so simple that there would really be liability for throwing there.

[Speaker L] If there really is a derivative of two things, then there is a problem of “we do not derive punishments from legal inference.”

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s also a question in tort law. Tosafot on the spot asks this in Bava Kamma page 2.

[Speaker L] But regarding liability for capital punishment, it’s more of a problem.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Tosafot argues that “we do not derive punishments from legal inference” applies in monetary matters too. That’s Tosafot’s assumption there. There are disputes about this. Tosafot’s assumption there—he asks this, after all, “we do not derive punishments from legal inference,” and he says there that he wants to argue that in monetary matters we do derive punishments from legal inference, but there is a dispute on this issue, whether in monetary matters we do derive punishments from legal inference or not.

[Speaker L] Yes, say with this derivative maybe there would be a problem here. It fits with what the Rabbi said earlier—why on the Sabbath don’t we learn from a common denominator?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, the Sabbath is prohibition—what difference does it make? So don’t punish, but learn the prohibition. As for prohibition you can certainly learn it. For prohibition, certainly you can write in the Shulchan Arukh that it’s prohibited. Leave it—don’t execute him—but you need to write that it’s prohibited. The prohibition is certainly learned; otherwise what do you do with the hermeneutical principles by which the Torah is interpreted? You learn through interpretive principles, including the common denominator. With the common denominator, the question is whether “we do not derive punishments from legal inference” also applies. That’s only Maimonides’ position—that with all the interpretive principles, “we do not derive punishments from legal inference” is said. The simple conception is that it applies only to an a fortiori inference. So what happens here isn’t really a fusion of two things, but rather one thing, and the second only removes some objection. And again, these are all kinds of examples of certain types of abstractions, and all these abstractions are made by stripping away characteristics. Or by fusing characteristics—but even fusing characteristics is itself bound up with abstraction. Because if I now take winnowing—how can I learn from winnowing that spitting is also liable? Because I take winnowing and say: leave aside now what is done in winnowing. I abstract away all the specific things that belong to winnowing. What do I see there? That the assistance of the wind does not exempt. That’s a kind of abstraction. I say: let’s abstract from winnowing the fact that here we’re doing selection and our purpose is this, to remove the waste and leave the food—leave all that. Let’s relate only to one element, one characteristic of winnowing: that the wind takes part in the matter. And now I take that and fuse it into something else. So all the processes, all the analogies we make, the generalizations we make, the fusions we make—all these things are bound up with processes of abstraction and illustration. Basically, in the end, I think that the most fundamental operations in the inferences we make are abstraction and illustration. All the analogies, inductions, deductions, all these things that we do are really different combinations of abstraction and illustration. We talked a bit about analogy, right? How do you make an analogy between two chairs or two frogs? Basically by abstracting to something and seeing both as particular cases of it. Again, it’s all the same thing—you see it when you look at it through these glasses. So every inference we make is basically some combination of abstractions and illustrations. It’s up and down, moving upward and downward. Maybe here is the place to add another point.

[Speaker K] One could ask: after all, sifting is sorting is winnowing is sifting—why count them? Wait, winnowing is by means of the wind. And that’s not the answer the Talmud gives.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course, because the Talmud understands that the essential primary labor is separating food from waste. That’s all; all three do that. Why should I care by what method you do it? Therefore the Talmud really says that in principle it should have been one primary category.

[Speaker K] Fine, but what’s the problem with saying, if—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If you go by differences that marginal, then there aren’t thirty-nine primary categories; then all the derivatives should have been primary categories. Because that’s fine—if with marginal differences, then either there could be many other primary categories that weren’t defined at all. But you’re assuming that isn’t so; there aren’t many more primary categories. Whatever resembles it, is it. Rather, what happened is that these three were all in the Tabernacle, says the Talmud, and therefore they are counted as three. Obviously it can’t be completely identical, because otherwise even if it was in the Tabernacle you wouldn’t turn it into three primary categories, right? They cultivated dyes—but they cultivated dye A and dye B and dye C. So maybe sowing galbanum, frankincense, and I don’t know what—each one is a different primary category. Why not? Because the difference there is apparently absolutely negligible, so it doesn’t matter that all of it was in the Tabernacle. So here it’s clear that it’s not true that only separating food from waste is relevant. Obviously the way we do it also has some significance. But that’s apparently a marginal significance. Meaning, were it not for the fact that it was in the Tabernacle, we would say it’s one primary category. So yes, I started to say—there is an American philosopher named Peirce who defines—we talked about analogy, induction, and deduction—he talks about abduction. I don’t remember if I mentioned it; I’m not sure; I think I didn’t. It’s very confusing. What else can there be? After all, analogy is from particular to particular or from general to general, meaning on the same plane. Deduction is from general to particular. All horses have four legs; this thing is a horse, so it has four legs. It’s a particular within the general, so you can derive it. Induction is the movement from the particular to the general. I have particulars and create from them a general rule. What else can there be? What other inferences can there be? Ostensibly that’s everything. Either from particular to particular, or from particular to general, or from general to particular. What else?

[Speaker B] General, particular, and general?

[Speaker K] No—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] General, particular, and general is not from general to particular; it’s a linguistic form. It’s how the verse is written, in the form of general-particular-general. It’s not a movement of inference from general to particular and from particular to general.

[Speaker B] Yes, there can also be from general to general, which is also analogy—that’s what I said.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The particular you’re talking about is analogy—it doesn’t matter whether it’s general. Why? Because general and particular are always relative definitions. When you move from particular to general, the meaning is from a particular to a general of which that particular is a part. If you move to two generals—from all horses to all donkeys: if all horses are mortal, then all donkeys are mortal—that’s an analogy from particular to particular, where the particular is the group of horses. Because relative to donkeys, horses are not included in them; there is no relation of inclusion between them. So it’s not a relation between particular and general, but between general and general or particular and particular—it doesn’t matter. Now what is abduction? Abduction is an interesting point, because when we—think about how science works. By the way, it’s exactly like the common denominator. How does science work? We see examples, say, of bodies falling to earth. I let go of this pen and it falls to earth. This chair too, and this lectern too. Okay, now I say: good, what causes all these fellows to fall to earth? Aristotle said because, of course, they want to return to their source. But in modern thought we say it’s because they have mass, right? Bodies with mass fall to earth. That’s a generalization, and that generalization is basically induction. You take particulars and say: all these are bodies with mass, so I create from this a rule—every body with mass falls to earth.

[Speaker N] Those are laws of nature, induction.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In a moment we’ll see—not exactly; in a moment we’ll see. Of course, you can make generalizations in various ways. Who says that’s what they have in common? Maybe what they have in common is that they are white. Say this and this and this—these three are white. So maybe white things fall to earth. Fine, you can test that too and see that this one is brown and still it falls. I can find a common characteristic for all four of these. There is always some characteristic that will be common to whatever objects you collect. You can always find some characteristic. But we nevertheless have some ability to distinguish what is essential and what is nonessential. A miracle in itself—maybe I’ll talk about that later too. That’s ordinary induction. What is abduction? Abduction is an attempt to produce a theory from these facts, when I ask myself why all bodies with mass fall to earth. The statement that all bodies with mass fall to earth is simply a movement from particular to general. I have particulars that I know about, and I produce a law that deals with the whole group, the general. So that really is just generalization, a move from particulars to the general. But when I ask why it falls to earth—and many times through that I arrive at the generalization—the question of why, the movement from the particulars to the theory, is much more complex than the movement from particulars to general. How do you invent a theory? You say there is a force of gravity, and if you enter into the details then there are descriptions of it and gravitons, and you can get into its innards and see how it works—and nobody has ever seen any of that. Nobody has seen it. It is an abstraction, or an abduction, that we make from the cases we see, the concrete cases. We perform experiments in the laboratory, and from that we produce some theory within which there are what are called theoretical entities. Theoretical entities means basically some kind of entities or concepts that are created only in the theory in order to explain the facts we observe. Nobody has seen those entities, but they explain the facts, and through that I hypothesize that they are probably there, that they exist.

[Speaker N] And that’s not certain.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, nothing is certain. A generalization isn’t certain either. In that sense there’s no problem.

[Speaker B] A law of nature isn’t certain either.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Nothing is certain. You say: I think all bodies with mass fall. Are you sure? Maybe there is some body with mass that won’t fall? If I haven’t seen it? You can never be sure, ever.

[Speaker B] Certainly not in a mathematical sense.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So what I’m saying is: the move from particulars to a general rule is induction. The move from particulars to a theory is abduction. That’s not exactly the definition you’ll find in the books, but in my opinion that’s the essential definition of abduction. In other words, it’s the move to a theory. Now of course, once you’ve moved to a theory, you can also determine what the general rule is to which the theory applies. You understand that the law of gravity works on bodies with mass, and you can derive the generalization from the abduction, derive the induction from the abduction. But on the other hand, it’s clear that in abduction this is a direct process of abstraction. You’re basically abstracting the situation. You say: forget it, it’s paper, and it’s printed, and it has two colors—all of those elements don’t interest me. I strip away all the irrelevant characteristics from the paper, from the chair, from the shtender, and I’m left with the fact that they have mass. And then I say: I’ve made an abstraction, and I say that all bodies with mass fall to the ground. This is the abstraction I talked about last time, the abstraction that underlies induction. But here there’s a bigger abstraction, and that’s abduction, which asks: why does this fall to the earth? Because there’s some force such that if two bodies have mass and they’re at a certain distance, then there’s some mechanism that causes them to attract one another. And that mechanism I also know how to describe and say various things about—that is, all kinds of things that nobody has ever seen, theoretical entities of that kind. Field, potential—you can talk about lots of things that in principle are not measurable things, not things you can see, but they explain many phenomena. And not only that, they also predict phenomena that afterward I observe and discover really are there. Even though that’s predicted by the theory, not by the particulars I saw. That’s confirmation of the theory. It constitutes confirmation of the theory. But how do you get from the particulars to the theory? That’s a different kind of abstraction. Not the abstraction from particulars to a rule. Abstraction from particulars to a rule is stripping away characteristics. We said—we talked about this last time—when you strip away characteristics, the more characteristics you strip away, the broader the set you arrive at, right? The more characteristics there are, the narrower the set of objects that fit them. We talked about information theory. But in the abstraction where you go from the facts to the theory, it’s not stripping away characteristics. It’s a move to a completely different place, some attempt to penetrate through the situation in order to see what stands behind it, what drives it, what generates it. And then you discover all kinds of abstract objects. It’s some kind of way of looking—I don’t even know how to define it—some kind of look into the depths of reality in order to understand what is really hidden behind it. This is connected to the last column I wrote.

[Speaker F] Meaning, from the rule to the theory?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Not always. Sometimes yes, and sometimes no. And sometimes this is done by induction first: you arrive at a rule, and then—okay, it’s mass, let’s really think about why mass does this—and then you get to gravity. Sometimes it works the other way around: how do you know that mass is the relevant parameter? Why not generalize that all white objects, or square ones, or things with a geometric shape, or whatever you want? Because I have some intuition that the law of gravity is involved here, and gravity is connected to mass.

[Speaker O] And why wouldn’t it be location? What? Why wouldn’t what the Rabbi just explained be a rule in general? Meaning, we saw that things with mass—and automatically we arrive at a general law.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But I don’t know that it’s only things with mass. Maybe it’s only white things.

[Speaker O] But the Rabbi also said that it’s not certain that it’s only—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Nothing is certain. I’m only saying where you start and where you continue. You’re assuming that first we do induction and then move to abduction. I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll give you—people are already asking—I’ll give you an example. In two different places I saw a description—this is a very nice symptom of the fragmentation of modern information. There’s a historian named Carr, a British historian named Carr, who has a book called What Is History? And there he deals with the question of how a theory is built in history. So he says that the naive approach of Francis Bacon is an approach that says: we gather facts and from that create a theory. Say, for example, we want to know why Blücher defeated Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo. Wellington and Blücher—how did they defeat Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo? He says: you collect information—what was the morale of the army, how many soldiers were there, what strategy did they use there, what weaponry did they have, Iron Dome generation three, generation five, I don’t know, all kinds of things like that. And from that we infer the theoretical conclusion that says: in battles, if you have such-and-such characteristics, then your chance of winning is higher, something like that. A theory in military history, or even just military theory, not necessarily history. Okay, so from the facts—we collect facts and from that produce the theory. But Carr argues that Bacon’s outlook is naive. Why? Because how do you know which facts to collect? Maybe collect the color of the uniforms? Collect the mothers’ names of the adjutants of the various units? How do you know which facts are relevant? There are infinitely many facts. What’s the average height of the soldiers, the average age, where did they come from, what region are they from? I don’t know. You can think of infinitely many—what religion do they believe in? I don’t know, whatever you want. Did they pray in the morning, did they not pray in the morning? Yes, there are those who would say that really is a relevant parameter. Okay. How many Jews are there in—how many Jews are there in each army? Yes, there are lots of things you can collect, all kinds of such bits of information. How do you know which facts, which facts to focus on? There are infinitely many facts. How do you really know? Why is it obvious to us that morale is important, weaponry is important, but the mother’s name of the adjutant—not so much? Because basically we already have some idea what the theory will look like. We know more or less what can cause victory in a war or in a battle, right? We don’t yet have a clear theory, we need to gather the facts, analyze them, and so on—but we have a direction. In other words, we understand more or less what the theory could be, or more precisely what it could not be. The adjutant’s mother is not—

[Speaker G] It won’t be there… obviously it won’t be… How do you understand that? From the experience you have.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, I’m not getting into the question right now of where we understand this from—that’s already a more complicated question. I agree that there’s also some kind of indirect experience here, but that’s not important to me right now. Right now I’m only saying that what Carr is basically saying is that we don’t go from facts to theory—here I’m returning to your comment. We don’t go from facts to theory. The theory and the facts come together; they come as one. In other words, you have some idea of what the theory could be and what it could not be. You collect facts—you still don’t have a clear direction, but you already know more or less what it could be and what it could not. You collect facts, understand what yes and what no, and you narrow down even further what the theory will be like. Then you go back to the facts, filter out more facts that apparently aren’t relevant, go back to the theory and say—and that’s how a military theory is built better and better, as you gather more facts, compare them to the theory, return to the facts, filter them, return to the theory—that’s how military theory is built, basically. So this means it’s not true that first we gather the facts, what you said before, make the generalization, and then produce the theory. The theory takes part in the question of which facts to collect, or which generalizations to collect, if you like, in the previous examples. The same thing appears in the Open University book on philosophy of science, Introduction to the Philosophy of Science. This is basically taken from Hempel, where he gives the example of an Austrian-Hungarian Jewish doctor named Semmelweis. He was the head of a department in a hospital. There were two maternity wards there. In his ward there was a very high mortality rate from childbed fever—they didn’t call it that yet—but there was a very high mortality rate among women giving birth. In the second ward there wasn’t; the mortality there was low. They tried to understand what the difference was, meaning why here there was mortality and there there wasn’t. They hadn’t the faintest idea; they still didn’t know about microorganisms. And they looked in every direction and found nothing. They reached insane levels of speculation. They checked the direction the priest walked every morning, the direction of the windows, the sound of the priest’s bell, all kinds of things. They didn’t know what to attribute it to—you don’t know where to look. Here, for example, you see Carr, of course, right? In other words, if you don’t have a theory, you don’t know which facts to collect. The theory dictates which facts are relevant and which are not. But supposedly the theory is built on the basis of the facts—so how does that work? There’s some not-so-simple logical circle here. Now think that in a world where people don’t know what microorganisms are, to tell someone that in your ward they don’t wash hands and in his they do, and therefore here they die and there they don’t—that’s really just like the priest. What difference does it make whether water got on my hands or not—does that render the hands susceptible to ritual impurity? What practical difference does that make here? You understand that in a world where you don’t know about microorganisms and infections, it’s the same as the priest’s magic. There’s no difference. Now it’s amazing, because at some point someone decided that in this ward there were students who dealt with pathology and dissections of corpses, and then they came to work in the ward. After they had a pathology lesson, they went to the ward where Semmelweis worked, and in the other ward they didn’t—or the students there weren’t pathology students, I don’t know, that element wasn’t there. So he says: you know what, let’s try taking different students, or let them wash their hands. For some reason nobody understood why, what the idea was—like the priest, no better than the priest. So let them wash their hands. And it turned out that this equalized the mortality percentages. And then suddenly they understood that there was apparently something on the hands that caused such a thing, and suddenly they discovered that there are infections and things of that sort. You understand—the chance of arriving at that is zero. No chance. In other words, if you have no idea in which direction to look, you don’t know which facts to collect. You don’t know whether to look at the age of the hospitalized women there, or the women giving birth there, right? Where they came from, what their ethnic background is, what songs they like.

[Speaker B] Maybe try replacing the heads of the departments?

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The heads of the departments—actually that really could have helped more.

[Speaker B] Or raise salaries. Yes, exactly.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, so the thesis here is that if you raise teachers’ salaries, everything will be fine—yes, that seems to me about like the priest. In any case, the claim is that without being equipped with a theory, you don’t know which facts to collect. And that’s exactly the same mechanism as with Carr. Both of them write this independently, Hempel and Carr; each one discovers America in his own direction. They write the same thing, only one is a historian and the other is a philosopher of science, or whatever, coming from the discipline of the natural sciences.

[Speaker H] I have a friend studying for a master’s degree in biology, and he told me that today the direction of cancer research is basically to say: let’s just take all the data we have on the patients and simply cross-reference all kinds of bizarre data and see what sticks, what theory could be built from it. What’s called big data. Yes, big data. He says that’s the direction of research today.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Fine, but you yourself understand that even when people talk about all the data, there are data that won’t be included. They’ll take medical data; they won’t take his mother’s name. That also appears in his file—why don’t they take that too? Because they are doing filtering. It’s just that sometimes we don’t notice that we’re filtering, because we say: okay, the filtering will be more speculative. In other words, we can take all areas of medicine, even though we have no idea whether there’s a connection or not. But something unrelated to medicine—we won’t take that anyway.

[Speaker H] Yes, but he says that basically the theory will be born out of some connections that we’ll see in the data. That is, we have no idea what the theory is.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it’s not true that we have no idea.

[Speaker H] Obviously it’s something physiological, yes, that’s the general theory.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. So that’s how it begins, and then you’ll produce a prime theory, and the prime theory will dictate that you remove another part of the data, and then you’ll discover something else, a double-prime theory, and then go back—exactly the same process. Like in history, in principle it’s the same thing. Again, I assume that in history it’s harder to reach unequivocal conclusions in the end, because it’s perhaps more complex, but it’s exactly the same process. And if I return to the question that came up here earlier: it’s not true that first we do induction and then we do abduction. This somehow happens in back-and-forth motion. You do a bit of this, then a bit of that, then go back there and then here, until somehow you converge and understand that you’ve arrived at something coherent. And what is abduction?

[Speaker P] Meaning, this stage of construction is the part that—

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. That part which turns from the particulars toward the theory—that is abduction. The part which turns from the particulars toward the rule—that is induction. The stage of generalization itself is done by moving along these two tracks in parallel. It has no separate name—it’s the arrival from particulars at theory. It is composed of two processes, each of which—there’s Einstein, who created a theory of black-body radiation. A very famous case also among philosophers of science, because he created a theory without understanding the mechanism.

[Speaker N] By the way, people don’t know it, but that’s what he got the Nobel Prize for in the end.

[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, that same principle. So the claim is that Einstein basically created some kind of phenomenological theory of—there was a phenomenological theory of black bodies; people said the radiation is distributed like this. We have no idea why that happens, don’t know. And he proposed some hypothetical suggestion: okay, maybe it’s composed of particles and not some continuous thing, and that explains all of this. He has no idea what the particles are, nor how it’s connected, but if it’s particles then it’s distributed this way. Okay, and it’s a kind of—why? Because there was a phenomenological theory. That theory was created simply because we saw that this is how it is distributed. We have no idea why it happened. And then you ask yourself: but why could this happen? What is it? Apparently particles. Particles? You go back here, refine the graph even more, and then you ask yourself: wait, wait—but what? What particles? There’s light here, or radiation, whatever—what does that have to do with particles? And then suddenly quantum theory begins, saying: ah, so there are particles in light. So the theory becomes more precise. And you go back to the facts and sharpen them, or the factual generalizations, and then return to the theory. It keeps going like this all the time. It keeps going like this all the time. Which means there is no simple relation between abduction and induction. One builds the other, and you’re constantly running between these two planes. Those geniuses, the ones with genius intuition, are those who know how to skip a few steps ahead—to arrive directly at a very advanced generalization. Usually not all the way to the end, but to skip a few such steps, already to see ahead, to save a few such iterations. Okay. So basically the claim is that even when I speak about generalization, generalization can be done in two basic ways. Either generalization on the phenomenological plane, from the particular to the general rule—but of course there are many rules I can formulate on the basis of any collection of particulars—or generalization not from particulars to a rule but from particulars to the theory that explains them. Now of course these two axes are parallel axes. Every time you build a theory there is a corresponding set; it will reflect the fact that this is the theory, and vice versa. Okay? Actually not vice versa—the theory defines a set; the set does not define one theory, there can be many theories. But in principle there is some correspondence between these two things, and each of them can be regarded as an abstraction. Why? Because behind—but again, it’s not each of them separately, it’s because of the connection between them. Because the way I make the generalization involves some kind of abstraction. I say: what is the relevant parameter for all the things that fall to the earth? That they have mass. Why not that they are white? Or that they are square? Or that they have this shape or that shape? Because I already understand a bit from the theory. In other words, it’s always—the abstraction is some ability to see something abstract standing behind the particulars on the one hand, and on the other hand there’s some expression—and this is the verbal expression of abstraction. Abstraction of characteristics out of the concept, meaning: remove some characteristics and remain with the bare concept. Remove the irrelevant characteristics and remain with the bare concept. Now the claim, basically, is that we have several ways to do this abstraction, right? Any collection of particulars I can define in many ways as a set containing all of them, in terms of definition by extension. Definition by intension—that is abduction, meaning the theory that explains these particulars. Definition by extension says: these are the particulars that satisfy the rule, and this is induction and this is abduction. Okay? These are all just different angles on those same two axes. Now there are different ways to do this generalization. The question is how to relate to the move from particulars to a rule. There are those who see this as a subjective move. It depends on your mode of thinking, how you classify phenomena, how you relate to the common denominator. You ask someone: what is common to A, B, and C? You think of one common denominator, someone else may think of another. There is no right and wrong answer here. This is common and that is common too, right? So in that sense you can regard generalizations as something done entirely within our thought. All in all, if we had been built differently, we would have made different generalizations. Everything depends on how we are built. And then that basically means that the process of generalization doesn’t reveal something in reality; it only organizes reality according to the categories of thought that we have. That’s all. It’s simply more convenient for us to handle reality this way because that’s how we’re built, but it’s not really disclosure of reality itself. And that projects another possibility, namely to say: no, this process is actually some kind of observation. You understand that the essential part of these particulars you observed—or the important components for our purpose—are precisely these components and not others. And the irrelevant components I abstract away, I strip them off the body; that’s why it’s called abstraction. I strip them from the body I am observing, and then I basically refine the concept that I’m—say, you look at democratic states. So I say: what do democratic states have in common? That they’re all surrounded by sea, for example—just as an example. Suppose that were true. Still, someone would say: okay, but obviously the fact that they’re surrounded by sea is not an important parameter. The fact that they all have more than two million inhabitants—that also doesn’t matter. What difference does it make? It’s not important. Who says it’s not important? Maybe it is important. Who said not? So someone else will say: because the convention is that no, because we look in the dictionary to see what democracy is called. I’m asking: when they built the dictionary, not today, why did they decide on precisely that definition? Why did they gather precisely those characteristics? I think I talked about this last time, right? About Borges, the bird’s cry, and how concepts are built. So the question is whether this thing is really conventional, a matter of agreement, or whether it actually reveals something real. Is the concept of a democratic state a mental construct? That it seems nice to us to gather all these characteristics together and call them by the name democratic state? Someone else says: that doesn’t speak to me; I’ll gather another set of characteristics. All states that are large enough, have a sea, and whose prime minister’s name begins with the letter S—those states we’ll call plutoparchic states, or I don’t know, call it whatever you want, fine? It sounds to us like a meaningless collection, but that’s because this is how we’re built. Someone else built differently—it could be that for him maybe that would be meaningful and ours would not. So the question is whether everything really is an arbitrary game. Why is this important? Because then it basically means that the process of abstraction is a process that takes place entirely within us. There’s no truth and falsehood here. You don’t discover something by abstracting; you create something by abstracting. And then every group or every person will create something else; there’s no one who is right and no one who is mistaken. By contrast, if you think or perceive that abstraction is a way of discovering abstract things—not creating abstract things, but discovering some abstract things—or in other words, that means there are such things somewhere out there. They are revealed to my eyes through concrete objects, and in order to grasp them I need to carry out a process of abstraction from the concrete things. But then it really means that the process of abstraction is some kind of observation. In other words, through abstraction I grasp things; I don’t create things subjectively, but rather I grasp things. Say I make an abstraction of the labors prohibited on the Sabbath or something like that. There are those who would say: fine, if the Sages had thought differently, a different Shulchan Arukh would have resulted. It’s only a question of what characterized the Sages of that generation who happened, by bad luck or otherwise, to be the Sages of the Talmud who have authority—they determine what is forbidden and what is permitted. By contrast, there can be an approach that says no—and there is an approach that says no—they hit upon, or at least we hope they hit upon, the real concept of building, or throwing, or spitting, or whatever we discussed in the previous examples. In other words, there really is some true answer here, and the question is whether we hit it or fail to hit it. Certainty, of course, never exists. But we try to hit upon something that really is there. And then it means that the process of abstraction is a cognitive ability. It is not a game. It is not some game that you can play one way or another. Rather, it is some kind of cognitive capacity, and there are people who abstract correctly and people who abstract less correctly. Maybe it won’t always be possible to prove this, but sometimes it can also be proved. For example, if one person builds a theory by means of abstraction of type A, and someone else builds a theory by means of abstraction of type B, it is possible to put those theories to the test of experiment, at least in many cases. And then to see that his abstraction is better. Now someone can say: that’s accidental. He succeeded, but one of the abstractions is correct, so by chance it was his. But if you see consistently that someone has an ability—not always, but at a higher percentage—that his abstractions hit the experimental result, then that means he probably has a better ability to make abstractions. What does better mean? Better means that abstraction is not a game in which everyone plays differently; there is no better and worse, just whatever anyone wants. Better means there is correct abstraction and incorrect abstraction. Again, we never have certainty that we are there, but we are at least trying to hit upon something real. And then it means that abstraction should be judged in terms of true and not true, or more true and less true. And not in terms of whether it is successful or not successful, or how we are built and how others are built—in other words, some narrative kind of thing, where these people have one narrative and those people another and there’s no difference. There is an object and the concrete things, and when I abstract it, what I create is not an object; what I create is a concept. When I talk about animals, for example, the concrete animals are objects, but the concept of being an animal is a concept. Animal is not an object; a particular animal is an object, but animal as such is not an object, it is a kind of objects. What is this kind? Plato understood these ideas as a kind of entities existing in the world of ideas in some sense. In other words—forget existing, that depends on how you define it—the point is that there is truth and falsehood here. These things are real things; they are not constructions that we build because that’s how we are built. Rather, there are such things, and it is possible to hit upon them and possible to miss them when we do this abstraction. By contrast, with Aristotle people usually attribute—though I’m not sure it’s correct—that Aristotle was not a Platonist, meaning he did not believe in the existence of ideas. So he says: we have categories, and the categories characterize us. That’s simply how we think, and therefore we arrange things according to our categories. And that is an approach that basically says abstraction is a game. It’s a game that is okay among us; if we think in the same way, then we’ll agree on shared abstractions, we’ll make similar abstractions, but there is no real right and wrong in this context. For Plato there is right and wrong. In the context of mathematics, for example, there are very big debates around the question of the status of mathematical abstractions. Is there such a concept as a group? Certainly there is a term. There is also a concept, yes—a linguistic term. The concept that the term expresses, the thing itself, the idea—is it existent in some sense, or is it just our creation? If we had been built differently, we would have created other abstractions. So there are realists, mathematical Platonists, who say yes, certainly—these are ways of exposing abstract objects. We never see a group itself; we see a specific realization of a group. We don’t see the concept of group. But it is obvious to us, as Platonists—obvious to Platonists—that there is such a thing. The way to discern it is through its various realizations or illustrations. In other words, abstraction is some kind of observation. You take a tangible thing, abstract from it—not physically strip from it, but strip by logical, intellectual, philosophical analysis—certain characteristics, and you produce an abstract object. You can call it an idea, or a concept, or a category, or whatever you like. You produce from it something—sorry, you do not produce from it something; you expose, you discover within it something that has certain properties, and regarding which there is true and false. In other words, it is a kind of observation in some abstract sense. Husserl called this observation of ideas, eidetic observation, eidetic. In other words, you see the idea through the objects. The objections to Husserl come from the place that says: you don’t see anything; you create these abstractions. There isn’t something there that you see, because there is no way to see it. They understand seeing as only with the eyes. The mind has no observational capacity; the mind does not grasp something in the world. The mind merely manipulates sensory data. The way to know the world is only through the senses, the mind cannot know the world, and the senses give us the objects. Therefore abstractions, in this view, are thought-processes; they do not reveal something in the world, they merely arrange things in our categories. By contrast, in the second view abstraction is, in a certain sense, an observational tool—what I called in my books cognition through thought, something like that. The point is, it is an observational tool that serves you in order to know additional abstract dimensions that exist in the world itself, only you do not see them with the senses. With the senses you see objects. You need the contribution of the mind in order to discern the abstractions, and therefore when you argue about a certain abstraction, whether it is correct or not correct, it isn’t just a game. For the conventionalists it is a game; you’re simply arguing over how to build the dictionary. But in the second view, the essentialist view, you are basically saying that the argument is an argument about what the truth is—did you see the idea correctly or did you not see the idea correctly. Okay, is that one answer to everything? What? Can I assume that there is no idea for a car tool, and there is an idea for a state? Of course. Even if you are not a conventionalist, it is obvious that there are concepts that are only our constructions—we create them for our convenience, but they do not reflect something real. That is certainly possible; certainly there are such things—but it is certainly possible that there are. That is not bound up with saying that it is always so. The claim of the essentialists is that not everything is convention. Because the conventionalists basically argue that everything that does not come to you through the senses is imagination, fiction—that’s fine, you—whereas the essentialists say no, not everything is like that. That doesn’t mean that everything is not like that. Okay? It’s only that not everything is like that. Fine, broadly speaking I think we’ve more or less finished the introduction.

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