OldLady
Diamond Member
- Nov 16, 2015
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This one had me LOL at the local diner this morning.
Just had to share with my fellow beeblers. It's by Gene Weingarten at the Washington Post.
Admit it. You donāt know what āepistemologicalā means either.
I have a confession to make. By all rights, it should get me fired.
For the last 25 years, in my writing, I have been using the adjectives āepistemologicalā and āontologicalā interchangeably and without actually knowing what either means. Sure, I have looked them up, but their definitions are so gauzy and academic that they are meaningless to me, and forgettable. So I forget them. I donāt even go back to check anymore.
But here is the amazing thing: Not once in 25 years has anyone called me out on this. There has been not one phone call or online comment or letter to the editor pointing out that, philosophically, I have my head up my arse, which I obviously do. There is only one conclusion I can reach: No one else has any idea what these words mean, either.
Ontologically speaking, then, are they even words, from an epistemological standpoint?
I use ontology and epistemology, and their derivative forms, whenever the subject involves an abstract idea and I want to convey a sense that I have given deeper thought to it than I really have. I have made these words my own. My Twitter profile identifies me as an āepistemologist.ā
I wrote this in a story once: āIf a great musician plays great music but no one hears ... was he really any good? Itās an old epistemological debate, older, actually, than the koan about the tree in the forest.ā That story won the Pulitzer Prize.
Did I use the word correctly? Maybe, maybe not. I repeat, I do not really know what it means.
Until now, Iāve kept this to myself as a shameful secret, a form of journalistic malpractice. Itās like a surgeon transplanting a gooseās heart into a human because itās what he had lying around and it looked interesting. Then waiting to see if anyone notices.
By writing this column, I am unburdening myself. But the more I thought about it and poked around in books, the more it occurred to me that my sin might not be so grave.
One dictionary defines epistemology as āThe theory of knowledge, especially its methods, validity and scope.ā What does that even mean? More to the point, what doesnāt it mean? Might a rectal thermometer be an epistemological instrument? Seeing how Iām fumbling for understanding here, doesnāt this stupid column qualify as epistemology?
The definition of ontology is even murkier: āThe philosophical study of the nature of being, becoming, existence or reality, as well as the basic categories of being and their relations.ā (Or, in other words, beeble beeble beeble.)
My growing suspicion is that philosophers invented these terms for the same reason I use them: To make them seem smarter than they are, and to make the reader feel smarter than she is. Can it be that these words are of value not for their meaning ā for they have no meaning ā but for the sensations they impart? Maybe they are the literary equivalent of monosodium glutamate ā having no substance of their own, but enhancing what is around them? The comparison is compelling: Among connoisseurs, their use is considered a sin. And can give you headaches.
I contend you canāt pillory a man for trying to make things more flavorful.
More to the point, I remain ... unchallenged.
Just yesterday I was having a Twitter argument with my friend David Simon, the erudite creator of āThe Wire,ā a recipient of the MacArthur āgeniusā grant. A Very Smart Dude. On Twitter, David had chided me because I had called āDr. Strangeloveā the only perfect film comedy; he said it was a mistake to call it a comedy since its genre was more complex. In response I wrote: āTo deny that Strangelove is genre comedy is to deny ontology.ā
David Simon is the most joyfully argumentative person I have ever known. He thrills at confrontation and seeks it out wherever he can. But, like everyone else, he just meekly let this go.
Just had to share with my fellow beeblers. It's by Gene Weingarten at the Washington Post.
Admit it. You donāt know what āepistemologicalā means either.
I have a confession to make. By all rights, it should get me fired.
For the last 25 years, in my writing, I have been using the adjectives āepistemologicalā and āontologicalā interchangeably and without actually knowing what either means. Sure, I have looked them up, but their definitions are so gauzy and academic that they are meaningless to me, and forgettable. So I forget them. I donāt even go back to check anymore.
But here is the amazing thing: Not once in 25 years has anyone called me out on this. There has been not one phone call or online comment or letter to the editor pointing out that, philosophically, I have my head up my arse, which I obviously do. There is only one conclusion I can reach: No one else has any idea what these words mean, either.
Ontologically speaking, then, are they even words, from an epistemological standpoint?
I use ontology and epistemology, and their derivative forms, whenever the subject involves an abstract idea and I want to convey a sense that I have given deeper thought to it than I really have. I have made these words my own. My Twitter profile identifies me as an āepistemologist.ā
I wrote this in a story once: āIf a great musician plays great music but no one hears ... was he really any good? Itās an old epistemological debate, older, actually, than the koan about the tree in the forest.ā That story won the Pulitzer Prize.
Did I use the word correctly? Maybe, maybe not. I repeat, I do not really know what it means.
Until now, Iāve kept this to myself as a shameful secret, a form of journalistic malpractice. Itās like a surgeon transplanting a gooseās heart into a human because itās what he had lying around and it looked interesting. Then waiting to see if anyone notices.
By writing this column, I am unburdening myself. But the more I thought about it and poked around in books, the more it occurred to me that my sin might not be so grave.
One dictionary defines epistemology as āThe theory of knowledge, especially its methods, validity and scope.ā What does that even mean? More to the point, what doesnāt it mean? Might a rectal thermometer be an epistemological instrument? Seeing how Iām fumbling for understanding here, doesnāt this stupid column qualify as epistemology?
The definition of ontology is even murkier: āThe philosophical study of the nature of being, becoming, existence or reality, as well as the basic categories of being and their relations.ā (Or, in other words, beeble beeble beeble.)
My growing suspicion is that philosophers invented these terms for the same reason I use them: To make them seem smarter than they are, and to make the reader feel smarter than she is. Can it be that these words are of value not for their meaning ā for they have no meaning ā but for the sensations they impart? Maybe they are the literary equivalent of monosodium glutamate ā having no substance of their own, but enhancing what is around them? The comparison is compelling: Among connoisseurs, their use is considered a sin. And can give you headaches.
I contend you canāt pillory a man for trying to make things more flavorful.
More to the point, I remain ... unchallenged.
Just yesterday I was having a Twitter argument with my friend David Simon, the erudite creator of āThe Wire,ā a recipient of the MacArthur āgeniusā grant. A Very Smart Dude. On Twitter, David had chided me because I had called āDr. Strangeloveā the only perfect film comedy; he said it was a mistake to call it a comedy since its genre was more complex. In response I wrote: āTo deny that Strangelove is genre comedy is to deny ontology.ā
David Simon is the most joyfully argumentative person I have ever known. He thrills at confrontation and seeks it out wherever he can. But, like everyone else, he just meekly let this go.
