Monthly Archives: August 2006

 

From CMAJ:

Webaholics: People with Internet addiction disorder (IAD) will likely start flooding physicians and psychotherapists offices in coming years, predicts a nursing professor at LaSalle University in Philadelphia. Dr. Diane Wieland states that IAD will strike as many as 10% of all World Wide Web users (Perspectives in Psychiatric Care 2005;41[4]:153-61). Possible symptoms include cyber shakes (psychomotor agitation and typing motions of the fingers), dry eyes, carpal tunnel syndrome, migraine headaches, repetitive stress injuries, sleep deprivation, disregard of hygiene and nourishment, social isolation, family discord, divorce, academic failure, job loss and debt. Wieland’s survey of scientific literature on the incidence, symptomatology and treatment of IAD also indicated cognitive–behavioral therapies, self-help groups and psychopharmacological solutions like selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors are among the most common interventions. — Compiled by Wayne Kondro, CMAJ

Excuse me, but did you say SSRIs?  For internet addiction?  I’m assuming this relates to some other underlying, already diagnosed problem which ‘IAD’ (smirk) is heaped on top.  I hope. 

I can’t even imagine what it would be like to work in a lab with David Hubel, Michael Gazzaniga, and Sir George Martin on the Advisory.

And the link dump ensues…

The Neurophilosopher found a video clip of Dr. Mark Tramo of the Institute for Music and Brain.

Some lecture notes to a course at MIT taught in part by Mark Tramo on Music Perception and Cognition.

A video of Aniruddh Patel from the Neurosciences Institute on Music and the Mind.

A nice summary on neuroscience and music from the Annals of the NYAS including snippets of ‘Rice Krispies’ and ‘My Dog’ by a boy with Williams Syndrome.

And hey, while we’re at it, check out The Devil and Daniel Johnston. I heard Daniel Johnston on Yo La Tengo’s ‘Genius+Love=Yo La Tengo’ and a few of his really early recordings before the show. Still, I caught the flick at Cinematheque this past spring and was blown away by it. Daniel is a bipolar musical genius. It was a late showing and rainy that night. I took a long walk afterwards. My guess is, if you see the film, you will too.

This field is too interesting to me. I’m going to keep my eyes and ears on high alert at the SFN conference. I’ll have to do some literature search, but off the bat, I reckon scanner noise has got to be the shittiest confound to worry about in a musical fMRI experiment.

Please let me know if you come across recordings of Dr. Mark Tramo’s compositions. I’ve been unable to find any.


bigger

The cog was put back in cognition (at least in theory) this past May at IBM’s Almaden Research Center which holds an annual series of talks.

// The Almaden Institute is held annually at IBM’s Almaden Research Center in San Jose, California. The Institute brings together eminent, innovative thinkers from academia, government, industry, research labs and the media for an intellectually charged, stimulating and vigorous dialogue that addresses fundamental challenges at the very edge of science and technology.

Some pretty big names made the short list, namely: Toby Berger (Cornell), Gerald Edelman (The Neurosciences Institute), Joaquin Fuster (UCLA), Jeff Hawkins (Palm/Numenta), Robert Hecht-Nielsen (UCSD), Christof Koch (CalTech), Henry Markram (EPFL/BlueBrain), V. S. Ramachandran (UCSD), John Searle (UC Berkeley) and Leslie Valiant (Harvard).

Videos and powerpoints are freely available from the Almaden Institute site, as are bigger videos from google video. Things that look particularly interesting: Searle’s talk ‘Beyond Dualism’, Ramachandran’s ‘The uniqueness of the human brain’, and the panel discussion ‘How the brain works, what it computes and how/when we might build intelligent machines’.

On why Newton’s theory did not derive from observation.

I was back home this afternoon. I let this churn in my brain for a while, then passed on the churning to my sister. After a lot of pacing we figured out how difficult this is when you don’t recognize what’s being said and how obvious it seems after a lot of pacing.

(Chapter 8)

// My third point—the contention that it is logically impossible to derive Newton’s theory from observations—follows immediately from Hume’s critique of the validity of inductive inferences, was pointed out by Kant. Hume’s decisive point may be put as follows:

Take a class consisting of any number of true observation-statements and designate it by the letter K. The statements in the class K will describe actual observations, i.e. past observations: thus we designate by the letter K any class whatsoever of true statements about observations actually made in the past. Since we have assumed that K consists only of true statements, all statements in the class K must also be consistent statements, and, furthermore, all statements belonging to the class K must be compatible with one another. Now take a further observation-statement which we shall designate by the letter B. We assume that B describes some future, logically possible, observation; for example, that B tells us that there will be an eclipse of the sun tomorrow. Since eclipses of the sun have already been observed, we can be certain that a statement B, asserting that there will be an eclipse of the sun tomorrow, is a statement which, on purely logical grounds, is possible; that is to say, our B is self-consistent. Now Hume shows the following: if B is a self-consistent observation-statement about a possible future event, and K any class of true observation-statements about past events, then B can always be conjoined with K without contradiction; or, in other words, if we add a statement B about a possible future event to statements in K we can never arrive at a logical contradiction. Hume’s finding can also be formulated as follows: no logically possible future observation can ever contradict the class of past observations.

Let us now add to Hume’s simple finding a theorem of pure logic, namely: whenever a statement B can be conjoined without contradiction to a class of statements K, then it can also be conjoined without contradiction to any class of statements that consists of statements of K together with any statement that can be derived from K.

And so we have proved our point: if Newton’s theory could be derived from a class K of true observation-statements, then no future observation B could possibly contradict Newton’s theory and the observations K.

Yet it is known, on the other hand, that from Newton’s theory and past observations we can logically derive a statement that tells us whether or not there will be an eclipse of the sun tomorrow. Now if this derived statement tells us that tomorrow there will be no eclipse of the sun, then our B is clearly incompatible with Newton’s theory and the class K. From this and our previous results it follows logically that it is impossible to assume that Newton’s theory can be derived from observations.

 

The San Francisco Chronicle recently reviewed Louann Brizendine’s book “The Female Brain“.  Gender differences?  Try:

  • - Thoughts about sex enter women’s brains once every couple of days; for men, thoughts about sex occur every minute.
  • - Women use 20,000 words per day; men use 7,000 per day.
  • - Women excel at knowing what people are feeling; men have difficulty spotting an emotion unless someone cries or threatens bodily harm.
  • - Women remember fights that a man insists never happened.
  • - Women over 50 are more likely to initiate divorce.

Citations?  Unfortunately the SFC does not list any.  At any rate, I got curious and searched Pubmed for fMRI papers on gender differences.  A total of 468 studies popped up, including this little ditty.  From the abstract:

BACKGROUND: The brain plays a crucial role in the decision to eat, integrating multiple hormonal and neural signals. A key factor controlling food intake is selective satiety, ie, the phenomenon that the motivation to eat more of a food decreases more than does the motivation to eat foods not eaten. OBJECTIVE: We investigated the effect of satiation with chocolate on the brain activation associated with chocolate taste in men and women. DESIGN: Twelve men and 12 women participated. Subjects fasted overnight and were scanned by use of functional magnetic resonance imaging while tasting chocolate milk, before and after eating chocolate until they were satiated. RESULTS: In men, chocolate satiation was associated with increased taste activation in the ventral striatum, insula, and orbitofrontal and medial orbitofrontal cortex and with decreased taste activation in somatosensory areas. Women showed increased taste activation in the precentral gyrus, superior temporal gyrus, and putamen and decreased taste activation in the hypothalamus and amygdala. Sex differences in the effect of chocolate satiation were found in the hypothalamus, ventral striatum, and medial prefrontal cortex. CONCLUSIONS: Our results indicate that men and women differ in their response to satiation and suggest that the regulation of food intake by the brain may vary between the sexes. Therefore, sex differences are a covariate of interest in studies of the brain’s responses to food.

Interesting.  However, I am usually opposed to the average, at least when it makes quite broad claims about behaviour, and as Jake Young points out in his most excellent blog Pure Pedantry, individual differences may be larger than group differences.  No doubt.  I’d like it if they had chucked a few Belgians or Germans in the scanner.  Both men and women.

Edge, via Pure Pedantry, gives you a debate

I was reading a paper on A meta-algorithm for brain extraction in MRI and wondered what other studies used the Dice coefficient as a metric. Interestingly enough I came across a program called WordHoard from Northwestern University.

// The WordHoard project is named after an Old English phrase for the verbal treasure ‘unlocked’ by a wise speaker. It applies to highly canonical literary texts the insights and techniques of corpus linguistics, that is to say, the empirical and computer-assisted study of large bodies of written texts or transcribed speech. In the WordHoard environment, such texts are annotated or tagged by morphological, lexical, prosodic, and narratological criteria. They are mediated through a ‘digital page’ or user interface that lets scholarly but non-technical users explore the greatly increased query potential of textual data kept in such a form.

Look out, John Grisham.

I’m still debating on what kind of similarity metric I will be using, although this blurb on comparing texts has been the most helpful I’ve read up to now.

Writing, doing laundry, drinking Australian white wine out of something that looks like a Red Bull can and listening to Icelandic music… To get excited about seeing ‘Screaming Masterpiece’ tonight I will also list some Icelandic artists worth checking out:

Sigur Ros
Stafraenn Hakon
Dr. Gunni
Amiina
Mum
Jan Mayen
Benni Hemm Hemm
Andheri
Pornopop
Sigridur Nielsdottir
Heida
Apparat Organ Quartet
Seabear
Jaguar
Fraebbblarnir

More here and heaps of full-length songs from Smekkleysa here

Gem Alert!

I picked up Gustav Eckstein’s book ‘The Body Has A Head’ at a used bookstore in Minneapolis this spring with nothing to go on other than the pretty obvious title. Well, duh. I have a head. The book is far from a collection of obvious statements, although Eckstein has a way of taking the obvious and adding a little more zing to it. Eckstein (not the Marxist, the physician) covers the human body, it’s physiology, it’s development, and it’s destination–the head–first by historical overview, then system by system. The spine of the book is thick, however Dr. Eckstein’s style lies somewhere between jotting down lecture notes and good-humoured prose. I reckon I’ll post more of Eckstein’s vignettes in the future. In the meantime, here he is reviewing What Is Life?

PHYSICIST

“Wherein There Is Life”

To the physicist—what is life?

He may be the lean Princetonian. He may be the MIT engineer. He gazes not so much outward into incredible space as inward into the incredible atom.

Erwin Schrödinger was a physicist, died not long ago, born Austrian, small-bodied, had a roaming imagination, highly cultured, could reflect over the whole area that a good mind reflects over, in mid-life thought once he would change his profession from physics to philosophy, teach physics and think philosophy. He was thirty-nine years old, to be exact. He stumbled, one feels, onto his equation for wave mechanics, became one of the world’s greatest physicists, won a Nobel Prize, for nearly twenty years remained an émigré in Ireland, returned to Vienna to live out what was left, not much. From Dublin where he was teaching at the university he released the manuscript of a short book, What Is Life?, that quickly became a minor classic. It did not require the reader to be a physicist, and he would learn what Schrödinger thought the physicist might contribute to the question.

Electricity, magnetism, gravitation, heat were chapters in our old physics textbooks. Today’s textbooks take up the same themes in the light of later developments, also take regular side-trips into the atom and over the chalkboards is written piously Einstein’s E = mc2.

None of this seems promising as contributing to the question. Schrödinger too thought that the old physics we studied in high school and the Soviets study in kindergarten would not help much. The old was based on statistics. He described situations where the disorder of random movements is given statistical order. Life is not like that. Life draws order from order. One need not be a physicist to see orderliness persisting in families over centuries, as the Hapsburg lip, Hapsburger Lippe, which fascinated Schrödinger as it might anyone who in some museum has stood before the portraits of Velazquez, fearlessly painting those Hapsburgers who marched on parade before him. But, right in our own neighborhood, despite crossbreeding, reckless diluting of wives with husbands, there will bob up in a thirty-second cousin an unmistakable pair of blue eyes.

Schrödinger considered the unit of that old physics to have a pattern that kept repeating, like wallpaper. The unit of the new had no such repeating pattern. It was like a tapestry of Raphael. The chromosome belonged to the new.

Each chromosome—and this now was unexpected—Schrödinger suggested, was an aperiodic crystal. The physicist studies crystals. The aperiodic would be those where the facets do no repeat. (Since the publication of Schrödinger’s book the study with the X ray of crystallized organic molecules has made possible the most important genetic discovery of our time.) Inside that aperiodic crystal would be the genes, that make us what we are, characteristic for characteristic, and by ceaseless duplication keep us what we are, you and I and the kangaroo. Those cocky gene-molecules bequeath our past to our future, predict and produce each member of the President’s cabinet, each player on the Detroit baseball team, each pilgrim in the Canterbury Tales. Each gene-molecule to the physicist is as clear as the tip of Manhattan, though that tip is large and the atom small. Schrödinger asked: Why is an atom so small? He answered: It is because we measure everything in relation to our own body, which is large. He repeated the story of the English King who stretched his arm and established the yard as the distance between his chest and his fingertips. Nowadays we accept that a grouping of atoms joined with other groupings of atoms can produce in nine months a summing-up like Johnny Appleseed.

Schrödinger touched then on evolution. He called our the age of the evolutionary idea, his carefulness placing evolution not in the realm of reality, where of course he thought it was, but in the realm of ideas. The new species resulted not as a selection from among the continuous slight variations always occurring in the living, as Darwin believed, because those slight ones are not inherited, result from quantum jumps. Nature for some still unexplained reason operates in jumps. If quantum does apply to evolution, and it does, that again justifies the physicist trying to help us comprehend the life that is in us, though our passion to comprehend more than we already do, in a bad hour strikes us as pathetic—large comprehending brains but a span of life too short.

Schrödinger does with his vivid writing get into us a picture of a physicist peering at life.

He concludes with entropy. He defines it. He clarifies it. He employs some mathematics, but he never allows it to become too difficult. By the dictionary entropy is the number that expresses the unavailable energy in a thermodynamic system, not an exhilarating definition. What Schrödinger does is emphasize the tendency of all physical systems to go into disorder. Order goes toward disorder. It goes toward what he calls positive entropy. The living is not like that. In the living, order goes to order. Life has absolute order. Life draws order from order. The living creature, or that molecule, that aperiodic crystal, is the most orderly thing on earth. How does the living keep up its order? By feeding on negative entropy, Schrödinger says. And so long as it does it avoids maximum positive entropy, which is death. Sounds like the reasoning of a medieval monk in a black habit and a black hood. The regularly-added can be tea with a slice of cake. The winner of the Nobel Prize suggests just that: the positive entropy that is the cost of living is canceled out by the negative entropy brought in on a dinner plate by the white-coated waiter. Nothing topsy-turvy in preventing death by adding life, though it surprises us that it should be woven into a physicist’s What Is Life? It surprises us also that this is not a romantic science-writer writing the book but a neat-minded mathematically-minded physicist. Schrödinger was above all a poet, able to feel wonder, state wonder. Already in the eighteenth century Marie Francois Xavier Bichat, another poet, came to a similar conclusion, defined life as the sum of the forces that resist death.

Link to amazon

It seemed too good to be true. The paleontologist Peter Ward and Intelligent Design proponent Stephen Meyer having what the moderator David Postman claimed to be a friendly discussion at Town Hall in Seattle. What a dissapointment! Ward’s constant name-dropping and pointing at the audience for support from respected scientists detracted from his argument against ID, an argument pivoting on the proposition that ID will make the U.S. less economically competitive. The way Ward squirmed in his chair and dropped one-liners–’this book is trash, it’s just crap’–ought to show how ridiculous one may look when an opponent’s arguments are countered by mockery and zoo noises and should be fair warning to those who principally cite the pastafarians for their refutation of ID. Ward’s opponent, on the other hand, came off quite cool, quite collected, and actually had a substantial hunk of meat to his argument, as opposed to Ward’s argumentative style, that being something along the lines of a Chicken McNugget. Pastafarian quoters beware, Meyer isn’t dumb. He did, after all, receive schooling at Cambridge, a university with admission criteria just a tad more selective than the University of Washington’s and where, legend has it, some smart guys found something important back in the ’50s. It is unfortunate that a stronger opponent to ID was not in Ward’s seat. We may then have seen a real debate.

Examples of subject matter that could have been really interesting but turned out shitty:

- Ward questions Meyer on what he means by ‘Darwinism’, suggesting that it is a strawman argument, yet fails to convincingly follow up on this idea of a fallacy at play.

- In response to teaching the controversy, Ward hits on the notion of Intelligent Design, not as a scientific theory, but as a movement–a very interesting point. He then says ‘Hmmmmm’, followed by ‘The cat is out of the bag’ and makes hand motions to this effect. Nothing more.

- Audience request: please state your personal religious views. Meyer confesses to being a Christian, Ward confesses to being a Druid (this week).

I was just watching bits of the debate again but I can no longer. Shiver.

Watch the debate here or download the audio here

‘An Essay on Metaphysics’ by Robin George Collingwood

IV

ON PRESUPPOSING

Whenever anybody states a thought in words, there are a great many more thoughts in his mind than are expressed in his statement. Among these there are some which stand in a peculiar relation to the thought he has stated: they are not merely its context, they are its presuppositions.

I write these words sitting on the deck of a ship. I lift my eyes and see a piece of string—a line I must call it at sea—stretched more or less horizontally above me. I find myself thinking ‘that is a clothes-line’, meaning that it was put there to hang washing on. When I decide that it was put there for that purpose I am presupposing that it was put there for some purpose. Only if that presupposition is made does the question arise, what purpose? If that presupposition were not made, if for example I had thought the line came here by accident, that question would not have arisen, and the situation in which I think ‘that is a clothes-line’ would not have occurred.

The priority affirmed in the word presupposition is logical priority. It is not a priority in time, whether that time belong to the history of the clothesline or to the history of my thoughts about it. When I say that its being for some purpose is a presupposition of its being for that purpose, that it first had a kind of general or indeterminate purposiveness, and that then, when it was rigged as a clothes-line, it exchanged this general or indeterminate purposiveness for a particular or determinate one by beginning to serve the purpose of hanging up washing to dry. I am not now asking whether anything like this really happened or not when the line was put up; I am only referring to when I used the word ‘presupposition’

Nor did I mean that my thoughts about the clothesline moved from ‘that line is meant for something’ to ‘that line is meant to hang washing on’. They might have moved in that way, and if I had been thinking about the line in an orderly or scientific manner I should have seen to it that they did move in that way; but as a matter of fact they did not. The thought ‘that is a clothes-line’ came plump into my mind, so far as I am aware, all at once and unheralded. Only by a kind of analysis, when I reflect upon it, do I come to see that this was a presupposition I was making, however little I was aware of it at the time.

Here lies the difference between the desultory and casual thinking of our unscientific consciousness and the orderly and systematic thinking we call science. In unscientific thinking our thoughts are coagulated into knots and tangles; we fish up a thought out of our minds like an anchor foul of its own cable, hanging upside-down and draped in seaweed with shellfish sticking to it, and dump the whole thing on deck quite pleased with ourselves for having got it up at all. Thinking scientifically means disentangling all this mess, and reducing a knot of thoughts in which everything sticks together anyhow to a system or series of thoughts in which thinking the thoughts is at the same time thinking the connexions between them.

Logicians have paid a great deal of attention to some kinds of connexion between thoughts, but to other kinds not so much. The theory of presupposition they have tended to neglect; and this is perhaps why the theory of metaphysics, which depends on it, has been allowed to remain in an unsatisfactory condition. I will try to state so much of this theory as seems necessary for my present purpose. For the sake of reference later on, I will sate it in a formal manner, in numbered propositions, with definitions of such terms as are used in sense they do not bear in ordinary English usage, or of terms whose meaning in ordinary usage depends on the propositions I am expounding. In expounding these propositions I shall not be trying to convince the reader of anything, but only to remind him of what he already knows perfectly well.

Prop. 1. Every statement that anybody ever makes is made in answer to a question.

When I speak of statements I do not mean only statements made out loud to somebody else; I include statements made by somebody to himself in the course of solitary thinking. Similarly when I speak of questions I do not mean only questions asked him by somebody else; I include questions asked him by himself.

The reader’s familiarity with the truth expressed in this proposition is proportional to his familiarity with the experience of thinking scientifically. In proportion as a man is thinking scientifically when he makes a statement, he knows that his statement is the answer to a question and knows what that question is. In proportion as he is thinking unscientifically he does not know these things. In our least scientific moments we hardly know what the thoughts we fish up out of our minds are answers to questions at all, let alone what questions these are. It is only by analyzing the thought which I expressed by saying ‘this is a clothes-line’ that I realize it to have been an answer to the question ‘what is that thing for?’ and come to see that I must have been asking myself that question although at the time I did not know I was asking it.

Note. A question is logically prior to its own answer. When thinking is scientifically ordered, this logical priority is accompanied by a temporal priority: one formulates the question first, and only when it is formulated begins trying to answer it. This is a special kind of temporal priority, in which the event or activity that is prior does not stop when that which is posterior begins. The act of asking the question begins and takes a definite shape as the asking of a determinate question before the act of answering it begins; but it continues for the whole duration of this latter. Unless the person who answered a question were still going on asking it while he formulated the answer, he would have ‘lost interest in the subject’, and the ‘answer’ would not have been an answer at all. It would have been a meaningless form of words. By being answered a question does not cease to be a question. It only ceases to be an unanswered question.

Def. 1. Let that which is stated (i.e. that which can be true or false) be called a proposition, and let stating it be called propounding it.

Note. This is an arbitrary use of the words. In English usage a question or supposition is, equally with a statement, said to be ‘propounded’, and the word ‘proposition’ is not exclusively used for that which is stated. I adopt it here, warning the reader that it is jargon, because it is customary among logicians.

Prop. 2. Every question involves a presupposition.

It may be doubted whether any question that was ever asked involved one presupposition and no more. Ordinarily a question involves large numbers of them. But a distinction should be made between what a question involves directly and what it involves indirectly. Directly or immediately, any given question involves one presupposition and only one, namely that form which it directly and immediately ‘arises’ (see Def. 2). This immediate presupposition, however, has in turn other presuppositions, which are thus indirectly presupposed by the original question.

Unless this immediate presupposition were made, the question to which it is logically immediately prior could not be logically asked. Verbally, no doubt, it might be asked. There is no verbal impossibility in the way of asking a man whom you suppose to be an indulgent husband whether he has stopped beating his wife. But there is a logical impossibility; for that question arises from the presupposition that he has been in the habit of beating her. If he is not supposed to have been in that habit, the question whether he has stopped ‘does not arise’.

Def. 2. To say that a question ‘does not arise’ is the ordinary English way of saying that it involves a presupposition which is not in fact being made.

A question that ‘does not arise’ is thus a nonsense question: not intrinsically nonsensical, but nonsensical in relation to its context, and specifically to its presuppositions. A person who asks another a question which ‘does not arise’ is talking nonsense and inviting the other to talk nonsense in the same vein.

As one can ask questions without knowing it, and a fortiori without knowing what questions one is asking, so one can make presuppositions without knowing it, and a fortiori without know what presuppositions one is making. When I ask ‘What is that thing for?’ I need not be aware that I am presupposing that it is ‘for’ something. It is only in proportion as I am thinking scientifically that I take trouble to make myself aware of this. For example, when I am trying to decipher a worn and damaged inscription I know very well that before I begin answering the question ‘What does that mark mean?’ I must first assure myself that the mark is not accidental but is part of the inscription; that is to say, I must first answer the question ‘Does it mean anything?’ An affirmative answer, i.e. the statement ‘That mark means something’, causes the question to arise, ‘What does it mean?’

Def. 3. The fact that something causes a certain question to arise I call the ‘logical efficacy’ of that thing.

The question ‘What does that mark mean?’ would equally have been caused to arise if I had not stated but only ‘assumed’ or ‘supposed for the sake of argument’ that it means something; and this is what, like any other epigraphist, I do when I find myself unable to give a definite answer to the question whether a certain mark is part of the inscription or not. The logical efficacy of the supposition that the mark means something is identical with the logical efficacy of the proposition that it means something.

Def. 4. To assume is to suppose by an act of free choice.

A person who ‘makes an assumption’ is making a supposition about which he is aware that he might, if he chose, make not that but another. All assumptions are suppositions, but all suppositions are not assumptions; for some are made altogether unawares, and others, thought the persons who make them may be conscious of making them, are made without any consciousness of the possibility, if it is a possibility, that others might have been made instead. When correctly used, the word ‘assumption’ is always used with this implication of free choice, as when it is said ‘let us assume x = 10’. Sometimes it is in correctly used of malice prepense, by way of an insult; as when a man says to another with whom he is arguing, ‘you are assuming that no one will work except for payment’, where the point is that no one but a fool would make that assumption, though it is a supposition that might easily be made unawares. Similarly a man who wishes to be insulting may ask ‘What do you mean by treading on my toe?’ knowing perfectly well that the treader meant nothing by it, because he did not do it on purpose.

Prop. 3. The logical efficacy of a supposition does not depend upon the truth of what is supposed, or even on its being thought true, but only on its being supposed.

The point has already been made clear in discussing the previous proposition. It is a matter of common knowledge in the conduct of scientific thinking; where it is possible and often profitable to argue from suppositions which we know to be false, or which we believe to be false, or concerning which we have neither knowledge nor belief as to whether they are false or true. These doubts or negations in no way affect the validity of the argument.

The point is no less familiar in the conduct of practical affairs than it is in the conduct of scientific thinking. A man (or at any rate an intelligent man) does not regard himself as insulted if some one who has paid him a sum of money asks him for a receipt, or if the family of a lady whom he is about to marry proposes that a marriage settlement should be drawn up. He knows that the request or proposal is based on the assumption that he is capable, or will one day become capable, of acting dishonourably; but though he knows people assume this he does not necessarily think they believe it. He finds no difficulty in his distinguishing between their supposing him a rascal and their believing him one, and he does not regard the former as evidence of the latter.

Prop. 4. A presupposition is either relative or absolute.

In this context the word ‘presupposition’ refers not to the act of presupposing but to that which is presupposed.

Def. 5. By a relative presupposition I mean one which stands relatively to one question as its presupposition and relatively to another question as its answer.

Thus, if I do a piece of surveying in the course of which I take some hundreds of measurements with my old 66-foot tape, every time I ask any question in the form ‘What is the distance between these two points?’ I presuppose that the answer as given by a reading on my tape will be the right answer: that is, I presuppose that my tape is within a certain percentage of the length which it professes to be. But this is only a relative presupposition. A tape by a reputable maker is not likely to have been made grossly inaccurate in the first instance; but it is quite likely to have stretched during years of service in all weathers; and a sensible man will check it from time to time against something not liable to that accident, for example a surveyor’s chain. The accuracy of the tape, which while I am using it is a presupposition of the questions I ask, is one of the two possible answers, the affirmative answer, to the question I ask while I am thus checking it.

A man may use a measuring-tape without its ever occurring to him that the question of its accuracy might be raised. In that case his assumption of its accuracy remains unquestioned, and one might suppose that this fact removed it from the sphere of relative presuppositions as above defined. But this would be a mistake. That a certain conclusion follows from certain premises is not disproved by the fact that some one who states the premises fails to see that the conclusion follows. Similarly, that certain presuppositions are questionable is not disproved by the fact that some one who makes them fails to see that they are questionable. The business of logical inquiries, like that on which we are now engaged, is to study high-grade or scientific thinking: their conclusions are not impaired by the fact that low-grade or unscientific thinking also exists.

To question a presupposition is to demand that is should be ‘verified’; that is, to demand that a question should be asked to which the affirmative answer would be that presupposition itself, now in the form of a proposition. To verify the presupposition that my measuring-tape is accurate is to ask a question admitting of the alternative answers ‘the tape is accurate’, ‘the tape is not accurate’. Hence to speak of verifying a presupposition involves supposing that it is a relative presupposition.

Def. 6. An absolute presupposition is one which stands, relatively to all questions to which it is related, as a presupposition, never as an answer.

Thus if you were talking to a pathologist about a certain disease and asked him ‘What is the cause of the event E which you say sometimes happens in this disease?’ he will reply ‘The cause of E is C’; and if he were in a communicative mood he might go on to say ‘That was established by So-and-so, in a piece of research that is now regarded as classical.’ You might go on to ask: ‘I suppose before So-and-so fount out what the cause of E was, he was quite sure it had a cause?’ The answer would be ‘Quite sure, of course.’ If you now say ‘Why?’ he will probably answer ‘Because everything that happens has a cause.’ If you are importunate enough to ask ‘But how do you know that everything that happens has a cause?’ he will probably blow up right in your face, because you have put your finger on one of his absolute presuppositions, and people are apt to be ticklish in their absolute presuppositions. But if he keeps his temper and gives you a civil and candid answer, it will be to the following effect. ‘That is a thing we take for granted in my job. We don’t question it. We don’t try to verify it. It isn’t a thing anybody has discovered, like microbes or the circulation of the blood. It is a thing we just take for granted.’

He is telling you that it is an absolute presupposition of the science he pursues; and I have made him a pathologist because this absolute presupposition about all events having causes, which a hundred years ago was made in every branch of natural science, has now ceased to be made in some branches, but medicine is one of those in which it is still made.

Absolute presuppositions are not verifiable. This does not mean that we should like to verify them but are not able to; it means that the idea of verification is an idea which does not apply to them, because, as I have already said, to speak of verifying a presupposition involves supposing that it is a relative presupposition. If anybody says ‘Then they can’t be of much use in science’, the answer is that their use in science is their logical efficacy, and that the logical efficacy of a supposition does not depend on its being verifiable, because it does not depend on its being true: it depends only its being supposed (prop. 3).

Prop. 5. Absolute presuppositions are not propositions.

This is because they are never answers to questions (def. 6); whereas a proposition (def. 1) is that which is stated, and whatever is stated (prop. 1) is stated in answer to a question. The point I am trying to make clear goes beyond what I have just been saying, viz. that the logical efficacy of an absolute presupposition is independent of its being true: it is that the distinction between truth and falsehood does not apply to absolute presuppositions at all, that distinction being (see def. 1) peculiar to propositions.

Putting the same point differently: absolute presuppositions are never (see def. 1) propounded. I do not mean that they sometimes go unpropounded, like the so-called ‘propositions’ of the fashionable modern logic, which are called propositions even when nobody in fact propounds them, and would on that account be more accurately called ‘proponibles’; I mean that they are never propounded at all. To be propounded is not their business; their business is to be presupposed. The scientist’s business is not to propound them but only to presuppose them. The metaphysician’s business, as we shall see, is not to propound them but to propound the proposition that this or that one of them is presupposed.

Hence any question involving the presupposition that an absolute presupposition is a proposition, such as the questions ‘Is it true?’ ‘What evidence is there for it?’ “How can it be demonstrated?’ ‘What right have we to presuppose it if it can’t?’, is a nonsense question.

Hence, too, it is nonsense to say, as some modern logicians do say, that supposing is one of various ‘attitudes’ which we can take up towards a proposition, where a proposition means something which can be either true or false. This is merely a device for imposing on unwary readers the dogma, of which more will be said hereafter, that all presuppositions are relative, or that there are no absolute presuppositions.

More here and here.