Follow up to: Birds are Dinosaurs, but Pluto Isn’t A Planet, Part III

I have written amply about how to use words in a way that accurately communicates what is going on, so that we don’t get bogged down in debates over pointless semantics or trivialities. Still, though, a lot more needs to be said, and a lot more improvement can be done even by me in order to be a more effective communicator.

And I think I have a new trick in the bag to further unravel problems with ineffective communication (especially ineffective communication in philosophy) that I’m ready to formalize and share. But first, I feel obligated to recap what I’ve discussed previously, like in those episodes of television where they briefly highlight the entire previous season before building on the plot:

Previously, on Greatplay.net…

First, I wrote in “Free Will that Makes Sense” that the idea of free will is hopelessly confused, and debates about whether free will can exist are only solvable by explaining what it is that we expect free will to do. When we explain this, we see that not only are things like moral responsibility reconcilable with determinism, but they wouldn’t work under any other circumstance.

Then I expanded this point indirectly in “Meaningfully True”, where I built on a theory of knowledge that explains the ultimate test for whether something is true is whether or not you can use it to make predictions about the world that are accurate. The implication here is that debates should be oriented about what specific predictions we are making about the real world based on what we know, not about arbitrary semantics or crazy hypothetical scenarios.

This idea became backed up in “Unscrew the Applause Lights” by highlighting that there are words we definitely don’t know the actual precise definition of, like freedom or community, but nonetheless we still want them, undercutting factual statements with emotional ones, and derailing our pursuit of an actual coherent and logical plan to solve whatever problem we have.

This idea becomes more specifically stated in “The Folly of Debating Definitions” that when you have two sufficiently strong, equally practical, equally complete definitions of something, it makes no sense to argue between them — like we would see in an argument about whether sound refers to an auditory experience or an acoustic wave — there is no point in having this dispute, and the argument is better served by just picking a definition at random or by simply doing away with the word “sound” and arguing solely about the reference points.

In “Don’t Smuggle Your Connotations” I argued that when a statement is made it often can come with additional meanings that are fallaciously tacked on — for instance, just because something meets the definition of living (undergoes specific biological processes) does not mean it meets the definition of living (deserving of our respect). In “The Meaning of Morality” I make this more specific, highlighting the difference between good (that which maximizes the happiness of conscious creatures, among other definitions) and good (that which we ought to do).

Lastly, in “Birds are Dinosaurs, But Pluto Isn’t a Planet”, I explained how definitions can be chosen between by looking for the most practical definition, also by making use of the criterion of reasonable common usage. I then explored some of the history of how definitions change over time.

…It’s bad news when it takes over five hundred words merely to briefly summarize everything you need to know in order to understand the rest of the essay, but bear with me.

And now the conclusion…

When Definitions Get Muddled

What is it that gets people all confused about definitions? My theory is that, upon reflection, it’s quite a few different things that is going on, though I generally warn that this is a question best solved by an empirical study than generalizing from the limited guesses I have. Specifically, I think language is complicated by the emotive component, most notably in applause lights, where we get excited about things we don’t really notice fail to make sense. (This is not to say we would be better off being emotionless, however.)

We also end up getting caught equivocating between multiple definitions, ending up smuggling connotations from one version to the other, also in part because we don’t necessarily understand that there are distinctions to be made. We forget that definitions are compressions and abstractions of the territory at heart, and thus forget that not all members that fit the same definition have the same other qualities.

But I now have a third theory for how definitions can get messed up: by being directly connected to some important other question that we don’t readily think of, until we work our way backwards.

For instance, consider the idea of what it is to be a person. What is a person?

Here, we first notice a complete difference from the question of what is a sound, because instead of having multiple working definitions, we have none. No one seems to know what a person is in a way that is (1) practical, (2) sensical, (3) not circular, and (4) not vague. Thus perhaps we have a candidate for an applause light, because we all overwhelmingly want to be considered a person, yet we don’t really know what being a person entails.

How would we unscrew this applause light and get to what we are actually defining? I think I now know how to do it. I propose a bold test for unraveling both the definition of person and the reason why we haven’t figured out the definition yet: asking why we care.

This is the “Why Do We Care?” Test: ask not what a person is, but ask why it is we care about what is and is not a person.

Applying the Test to See the Confusion

So how do we apply this test to the definition of person? Why is it that we care?

Well, the answer is that the notion of personhood confers moral rights — people are the kind of things that we ought to treat with a specific kind of behavior — a high degree of respect, compassion, and empathy. People are the kind of things that we tend to cherish highly, far more than anything else.

I mean consider the great debate over abortion — people want to get fetuses considered people. But why? What is it about defining a fetus to be a person that changes anything about the fetus? Well, it changes how we are legally and morally required to act toward the fetus — for if it is a person, it now has specific rights, and thus can no longer be aborted any more than a baby can be shot.

So thus knowing the definition of a person is important for moral reasons.

Right away, you can probably notice the basis for applause lights: we all want to be treated with respect, dignity, empathy, and compassion. Thus we all want to be whatever it is that deserves this treatment, vying for the mystical notion of what it is to be a person.

An astute reader might also see how this definition of “person” is a perfect example of a massive connotation being smuggled: we define person perhaps by characteristics of intelligence or other physical capabilities and leave the moral dimension alone, but then come back and automatically assume the entire moral dimension when it comes time to act toward these people.

…It reminds me of when people say that owning something gives them the right to use it how they see fit, by the very definition of the word own. Little do they realize they are smuggling a connotation — moving from possession to the full moral dimension of being able to use it the way they want. In reality, for this definition to work you can’t say you own anything until you also prove that it is moral for you to use it any way you want.

Applying the Test to Get the Definition

So there lies the confusion: not noticing the connotations being smuggled and the applause light left unscrewed, completely missing a large component of how we use the word person in common usage. And recognizing this, we can also see the solution, for we can work backwards to get a much more workable definition.

If what really matters about personhood is that it is an entity deserving of a specific treatment, why not forgo the physical definitions that have been tried and failed for thousands of years, and instead go after the behavioral response / moral definition: define a person as any entity or thing that deserves to be treated by a certain set of characteristics (with specific and guaranteed rights, with respect for their autonomy and freedom, with full compassion when possible, among other things), and work from there.

What is it that deserves to be treated with those behaviors? And why should we treat anything with those behaviors? Well, I’d say that such a question is, itself, also currently unanswered, which is why I dedicate a large series of essays starting with “The Meaning of Morality” to attempt to answer them.

Thus I will refrain from reducing the definition of person any further, though if I may say so myself forsaking humility, I do think this test does more to point the word person to a working definition than any other definition posited to date.

Applying the Test Elsewhere

We can follow up this test to confirm some of the work we’ve done in other areas.

Let’s go back to free will. What is free will? Well, why do we care? Perhaps because we’re worried that all our choices might be completely futile and we want a basis in which we can condemn the actions of others. If we don’t really make choices, how is that we can actually accomplish things, and how is it we can blame people for things they didn’t actually do?

It is when we ask why we care that we can see some of the fundamental problems being made in the free will debate — for when the actual fears are articulated, we can easily see them to be unwarranted. And then we can make definitions of moral responsibility that are actually usable, avoiding a vague notion of some spiritual force that allows you to make actions contrary to determinism. I continue this in the essay “Free Will That Makes Sense”.

What about applying this to Pluto. Is Pluto a planet? Well, why do we care? Perhaps because we want to know whether Pluto shares similar characteristics as the bigger planets like Mars or our own Earth. Perhaps because we are curious about the latest insights of astronomy and what is out there. Perhaps because we are worried that if Pluto isn’t a planet, we’re no longer allowed to care about it. I mean, it’s no longer included in any of the fancy childhood mnemonics.

Again, knowing why we care gives us a giant wealth of previously untapped information that we can orient the definition around. The first problem goes to an important distinction to be made between the size of Pluto and other newly discovered objects, and the size of the remaining eight planets.

The second problem goes to the important discoveries made in determining Pluto’s actual mass and in discovering objects beyond Pluto.

The third problem goes to an unwarranted and fallacious smuggling of connotations, for we can care about nonplanets, and nothing about Pluto itself changed when it was redefined. (See “Birds Are Dinosaurs, But Pluto Isn’t a PLanet, Part I” for more.)

Conclusion

One of the important parts of a definition is whether or not the definition is practical, and this means that it has to meet certain goals. All definitions meet the broad goal of classifying and organizing human knowledge about the territory for further study and to be used in making predictions about the world. However, each individual definition also serves to answer specific questions about the object that we are specifically worried about.

The fact that we do not immediately know what questions a definition is designed to answer is what opens us up to fallacies like smuggling connotations, and also can be resolved easily by doing the opposite — instead of keeping the questions hidden, make sure to ask why we care.

Only if you know why you care about the words you say can you truly make sure you understand the words you are saying and the meaning you are communicating, and to bring the two more in line with the meaning you actually intend to and desire to communicate.

And only if you know why you care about the words you say can you truly make sure you understand if your definitions are serving you well, or if they need to be replaced by words that make more sense.

So when you see a word that seems important yet regularly eludes definition, try asking why we care and work backwards to a definition.

Followed up in: Identity Confusion as Definition Confusion, Part I

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