Plasmatic wrote:How is reality "reciprocol" ? For convienence go ahead and define "reciprocol" and "reality".
Here are a few more examples of ways in which reality is reciprocal.
The Slide Analogy
Going down a slide is a one-way process, because it involves changes that occur over time. Thus, we might assume that one of our defining properties might be [time], or to be more specific the [temporal sequence] property. We might say that the process begins at [time-1] and ends a little latter at [time-2]. What happens over that span of time is that we move from a location [at the top] of the slide to a location [at the bottom] of the slide. Thus, we can define the dynamics of the [going down a slide] process using the following properties and aspects:
1. Temporal sequence
a. Time-1
b. Time-2
2. Spatial location
a. At the top
b. At the bottom
Notice how at the top of the slide we might define the process using the aspects [100% time-1] and [100% top location]. ANd by the time we reach the bottom, we can define it as [0% time-1] and [0% top location]. Or we can define it as [100% time-2] and [100% bottom location]. This is reciprocal in two ways. (1) there are two reciprocal ways to define the same scenario, and (2) reality is necessarily a continual changing from one [definitionally reciprocal scenario] to another.
As I've said before, reality is made up entirely of processes. There are no static objects, in an absolute sense. Even that rock has atoms that are continually in motion. So all of reality is necessarily a series of these reciprocal, processional changes.
Here is another excerpt from my theory... which demonstrates another way reality is reciprocal and answers your previous question about naming a paradox that the DS theory helps to resolve--although this is normally considered a problem, instead of a paradox. Still, I think it qualifies as a paradox, because there are two different answers that seem likely, (under traditional thinking) and either way you interpret the scenario, you end up with something that doesn't work--within traditional thinking.
I have edited this excerpt slightly, and new additions are in green text:
The Question of Identity
What is it that makes something what it is and distinctly different from something else? Despite first appearances, this is not a simple question. In fact, it is a problem that has puzzled philosophers since there first were philosophers to puzzle. There’s a famous philosophical story, called the
Ship of Theseus Puzzle that helps to illustrate some of the problem that are inherent to the question of identity.
Here is my personalized version of that story:
The Ship of TheseusA mariner named Theseus came across an abandoned but seaworthy ship, which he named [God’s Gift]. Now, since [God’s Gift] was a bit old and decrepit, he used the ship as collateral and purchased a bunch of wood and tools before leaving on his first voyage. Then, while on that maiden voyage, he replaced each and every part on the old ship with a new part made with the freshly purchased lumber. Unbeknownst to Theseus, however, a scavenger ship was traveling behind his, and each time he threw an old piece of wood overboard, this ship collected it. Now, when Theseus returned to the port he was on a new ship, which we will call [T], with the name [God’s Gift] freshly painted on it. Right behind him came the scavenger ship, towing an older ship, which we will call [S], which also had the name [God’s Gift] painted on it. When the harbormaster noticed that both ships had the same name, he informed the captains that one of them would have to change the name of his ship. Theseus claimed that since he had left the port on [God’s Gift] and had not changed ships during his voyage, his boat was the one that should keep the name. The Captain of the scavenger ship countered that since his ship [S] contained all the original pieces of [God’s Gift], his ship was the original and should be allowed to keep the name.
On the surface, it would certainly appear to be logically sound to think that either [T] or [S] would have to be the original [God’s Gift]. On the other hand, both captains seem to have a reasonably good argument for their claim. A fourth possibility is that neither ship is the original, but intuitively this idea is rather unappealing for we are left to wonder where the original ship went and how it managed to disappear.
One way that philosophers have traditionally dealt with questions of identity is by using different criterion to give different answers to the same questions:
Notice the reciprocal duality of that... BTW
1. The substance criterion holds that because ship [S] has the same physical parts as [God’s Gift], it should be considered the original. This seems like a reasonable argument since we know, for instance, that when an amusement ride is moved from one carnival to another it is taken apart, shipped and reassembled at the new site, and yet we do not think of the ride as being a new and different ride at each and every carnival.
2. The continuity criterion holds that an object’s identity should be determined by tracing a continuous path through space-time. Using this criterion, [T] is clearly the original ship, because we can draw an unbroken line through space and time, apparently connecting [God’s Gift] with ship [T].
Both criteria have their difficulties. For example, the
substance criterion would seem to suggest that the [disassembled carnival ride] is the same thing as the [assembled ride]. Both contain the same parts, but clearly one can be operated and ridden and the other cannot. Similarly, the
continuity criterion faces problems because (among other things) not everything that changes does so with a one-to-one correspondence. For example, consider a small pile of sand that you keep adding to, one grain at a time. The original, [small pile] may be a subset of the [larger pile], but it clearly does not contain all the same parts. Despite this, we tend to think of it as the same pile of sand. Over time, grains might be added and removed—until, after many years, not a single grain from the original pile remain. Yet we would still think of it as being the same pile the whole time.
Or consider a scenario where a ship has been grounded and sits in the same spot for several years. Abandoned, without the regular treatments and repairs that keep a ship seaworthy, the ship would eventually rot and turn into a pile of dirt. Thus, following the continuity criterion, it would seem we must allow that the wooden ship is the same thing as the eventual pile of dirt. But clearly they are not, for at the beginning of our story the ship is seaworthy while the pile of dirt at the end of our story is not.
Types vs. Tokens
It seems that common sense logic would insist that Theseus' original ship can't change in such a way that it should now be defined as either:
• [T and C] or
• [Not T and Not C].
But our preliminary attempts to see the original ship as being [T] or [S] but not [both or neither], have led us into paradox. So perhaps we should reconsider our original assumption and see if it might not be wrong.
Why can’t it be the case that [both T and S] or [neither T nor S] are the original ship?
Another way of dividing the concept of identity is to think of something as being either a type or a token. For instance, a [rocking chair] is a particular [
type of chair]; while the [rocking chair in the store window] is a particular instance, or [
token], of that [type of chair]. The thing about types and tokens is that (in a sense) each type is also a token, and vice versa. For instance, a [rocking chair] is a [type of chair], but a [chair] is also a [type of furniture]—so with respect to [types of furniture], a [chair] is a [token]—or in other words, a [particular instance of a type of furniture].
Now, when we ask if either [T] or [S] is the same [type of ship as God’s Gift], the answer is clearly that both [T and S] are of the same type. All three ships clearly have parts with the same size, shape and function. This is what allowed those parts to be exchanged for one another. Thus, both [T and S] are clearly of the same type as the original ship, [God’s Gift].
Conversely, in the token sense, neither [T] nor [S] is the original ship, because every time a ship exchanged a part, a uniquely different token ship was created. In the strictest possible sense, even when the parts weren’t being exchanged the ship was still different from one moment to the next, because the volatile oils in the wood were evaporating, and atoms from the wood itself were constantly in the process of gradually breaking free from their chemical bonds, to be replaced by other atoms and other chemicals.
Thus, we are faced with a case where it makes sense to think in terms of [both] or [neither]—but it does not make sense to think in terms of [one or the other]. This common sense answer is not so obvious when it comes to the Theseus’ Ship scenario. But fortunately, the dynamics of the Ship of Theseus scenario is very similar to a number of other situations where it is relatively easy to see what is going on.
For example:
1.Imagine that we have a very expensive Faberge egg, which someone accidentally crushes. Does it make sense to ask if what is left is still the Faberge egg, or not? In one sense [what is left] is the Faberge egg, but it is equally clear that this egg is not the same as the original, for it is no longer worth what it was before it was crushed.
2.Alternately, imagine that we have a fertile chicken egg, sitting in an incubator, which suddenly hatches, leaving behind a chick and some shell-shards. Does it make sense to ask whether the [un-hatched egg] and the [chick, with shell shards] are the same thing? Obviously, they are not, for the egg required no feeding but did require warming; while the chick will require feeding but not significant warming.
These examples share one thing in common with the Ship of Theseus Puzzle; they illustrate how two things that are the same in one sense can be different in another sense.
And how they move through a "limit" which inverts them from one reciprocal scenario to the other.
3. Imagine an ameba that undergoes the process of cell division: When the process starts, only one ameba exists, but by the time the process is over there are two separate amebas.
Does it make any sense to ask which of the two [resulting amebas] are the same as the [parent ameba]? It is easy to see the fallacious thinking in this scenario, probably because it deals with organic instead of inorganic objects. But the dynamics of the situation are nearly identical, for we have something that exists at one point in time, which then changes to became something different at a later point in time. The question that should be asked in all of the above cases is the same: “
Is what we started with the same as what we ended up with.”
The obvious answer is no!
In my opinion, the author of the Ship of Theseus puzzle clouds the issue by asking the wrong question. Instead of asking “Is what we have at [t1] is the same as what we have at [t2],” he asks “Which of the two things that we have at [t2] are equivalent to what we had at [t1].”
It is obvious that the second question is meaningless when it is asked about the amoebas. But when it is used for the ships we have an identically structured argument. So it should be equally clear that what we have before and after the transition period is not identical. There is a sense in which all three ships are the same, for they are all the same kind of ship. But there is an equally valid sense in which none of the ships are the same as the original. This is the sense in which every object is understood to be a work in progress—constantly changing and becoming.
Both statements are true at all times, and this does not violate Aristotle’s principle of non-contradiction, because the [way in which the different things are alike] is not the same as the [way in which the similar things are different].
