Bill Thebert

Ironically, the banner ad at the bottom of page one (at the link above) reads: The Neediest Cases Bring hope to fellow New Yorkers. Donate to the Neediest Cases Fund.

Fair enough. I think I latched onto the term "knowledge" as a result of reading this from Jennifer: Suckling seems to be automatic. It may well be compulsory. I don't know if an infant can resist responding in that way. I'm pretty sure that a deer doesn't "know" that eating alfalfa is the way to sustain its life (i.e., it *understands* nothing of calories & carbohydrates); rather, it simply *does* it. Automatically and irresistibly. Much like a suckling infant?

I believe that this discussion includes elements of both science and philosophy. How humans think and the nature of human knowledge (epistemology), and whether or not humans have instincts, are likely a function of how we're constructed (a scientific question). Let's take a specific example -- namely, that of a suckling human infant. Within hours of birth you can place just about anything in the vicinity of the infant's mouth (a finger, a breast, etc.) and a specific behavior ensues. The behavior is NOT biting, chewing/gumming, vocalizing -- it is consistently *suckling*. Is this an example of "intrinsic, unerring knowledge"? Knowledge of a life-supporting behavior? It is certainly pre-cognitive, since the infant is pre-verbal, and no one has "explained" or "reasoned" with the child about what sorts of behaviors are in its enlightened self-interest. If we dare call this an "instinct", I then wonder if the male fascination with female breasts is not a vestige of same -- an instrinsic knowledge that these are "good for us", life-sustaining, essential to our thriving at a young age. Is this knowledge (if that's what it is) somehow chemically coded in some portion of our human brains? A portion that has an analogous structure in other, differently-evolved mammalian brains? Is the desire to protect/defend our young a vestigal instinct? I grant that infanticide and child neglect exist, and that this "desire" is by no means universal. I further grant that even where it exists it can be overcome by volition. *How* we defend our young is a product of cognition and volition. But what about the desire or the urge in the first place? Just brainstorming here. I don't presume to be arguing for any particular position yet.

While certainly witty, this sort of response is a disappointment. I had hoped for a more thoughtful discussion based on fact, research and reflection. Empirical observation reveals many structural similarities, and rational science demonstrates that certain functions are controlled by these specific structures. By "reptilian brain" I am referring to the brain stem, composed primarily of the medulla (which controls breathing, heart rate, digestion, etc.) and the cerebellum (which coordinates sensory data and muscle movement). Present (and essentially alike) in all mammals -- but absent in reptiles -- is the limbic system. Ten minutes of Internet research tells me that this set of structures lies atop the brain stem but below the cortex, and is responsible for hormones, drives, temperature control, certain emotions and some memory formation. The cerebrum and the cortex are the components that seem to be responsible for the behaviors and abilities that most of us would consider distinctively human. Despite your glib reply, Jennifer, it appears undeniable that the human brain *is indeed* a "superset" of components very similar to those found in other living creatures. Human breathing, for example, is controlled by analogous component(s) to those that likewise control breathing in reptiles and other mammals. Temperature control in the human body is managed by analogous component(s) to those found in all mammals and which are absent in reptiles. Yes, humans and jellyfish are quite different -- just as hydrogen and oxygen are different. But deeper examination reveals that hydrogen and oxygen are made up of the same sub-atomic components, and that these components nevertheless exhibit similar properties and behaviors. I respect the thoughtful participation and contribution that I've seen from you in other threads/discussions, Jennifer. If you don't wish to participate constructively in this one, that's fine. But I believe you can do better than the above. We both know that the absence of "fly-catching" behavior in humans doesn't rationally prove that there aren't *other* structural and functional similarities between different types of animal brains that are demonstrably related by evolution.

I'm still in the "bewildered" stage, it would seem. Searching the oo.net forums for the keyword "Dominique" yields LOTS of hits, but I've yet to find a thorough discussion of her character and her role in The Fountainhead. Nor did The Journals of Ayn Rand provide the sort of explanation/attention that was goven to the Roark, Keating and Toohey characters. Dominique Francon/Keating/Wynand and Dagny Taggart seem HUGELY different; the former seems to suggest that ideal role of woman is that of the "hero worshipping priestess", while the latter seems to suggest that women can be creative "heroes" in their own right. Any guidance?

Can I presume that most Objectivists accept the Darwinian theory of evolution as it applies to humans? If so, early humanoids had to have had instincts that enabled them to perform life-sustaining behaviors, right? If pre-humans had instincts, and if we their descendants do not, did we lose them all at once? Or only very gradually? Have we merely "over-layered" the reptilian and mammalian brains with another higher-functioning and disctinctively-human brain component? (I'm not at all acquainted with neuro-physiology.) Is there an instinct-driven reptilian brain at the core of our own? If so, are there *no* traces or manifestations of same? I find this line of inquiry extremely interesting. Is there anyone among us who is (authoritatively) familiar with human brain structures?

I don't agree with this part. Should my wife "accept me as I am" if I were to develop self-destructive habits and behaviors? If I were to stop doing/being my best? Would this unconditional (undeserved) acceptance make me think more highly of myself? Think more highly of *her*? I think it would actually be *dishonest* of her to love/accept/admire/praise habits, behaviors and attitudes in me that were inconsistent with my best interest/potential. I believe that I have to re-earn her love, respect and admiration each and every day. And specifically *her* love & respect means more to me than the same from anyone else -- precisely because I value her judgement. Some people are easy to impress (or are impressed for the wrong reasons), and their admiration therefore means less to me. I enjoy gifts (and praise, which is also a gift, in a way) as much as anyone else. But more than the gift itself, I enjoy the feeling that I *deserve* it, that I have *earned* it. Unearned and undeserved gifts aren't nearly as satisfying. Allow me to illustrate with a personal self-disclosure: In the late 60's and very early 70's (my pre-teen years) I was very into bicycling. "Ten-speed" racing and touring bikes were the new rage. I worked and saved furiously -- delivering newspapers at 4AM, mowing lawns, etc. -- to purchase one of these magnificent machines. I read and I studied -- about hubs and brakes, about rim types, spoke profiles and lacing patterns, frame construction, cranksets, alloys & welding techniques -- in order to make a wise and well-informed selection. I shopped and I searched in order to learn where the bike of which I dreamed could be had. On the long-awaited Saturday morning, my Father drove me to the shop with an immense wad of $1 and $5 bills bulging my pocket. I was going to finally purchase the bike of my dreams. After selecting the machine, negotiating the price and writing the order, my Father gently placed his hand on my shoulder and told me to put my money away. He wanted to buy this bike for me -- because he was proud of how hard and purposefully I had worked and saved, and how thoroughly I had researched. That gift means as much to me as any I have ever received (before or since), because it was an acknowledgement of something I liked about myself. The true gift was BEING SEEN by my Father in that way -- having him see and appreciate something in me OF WHICH I WAS ALREADY PROUD myself. The same gift if undeserved or unearned, and if given out of "unconditional love and acceptance", would not have been nearly as memorable or meaningful. Nor would it have meant as much if it had come from someone whose judgements I respected less. He didn't give it just because he "wanted me to be happy", or because he thought my "friendship" was worth X sum of money. I don't wish to make a mountain out of a molehill here. Nor is it my intention to "toot my own horn". When talking about relationships, love, respect, the meaning of gifts, etc., however, I can speak best about first-hand experiences.

Does anyone believe (or has anyone heard any evidence to the effect) that these bombings were in any way related to the announcement of the location of the 2012 Olympics? Speculation: Were these bad guys ready to go in Singapore, Moscow, New York (i.e., all other candidate cities) as well?

I am a believer in the value of primary source materials when studying history. There is a two-volume set, The Debate on the Constitution, that you might find interesting. Subtitle for this set is: Federalist and Antifederalist Speeches, Articles and Letters During the Struggle over Ratification. Volume one is divided into two parts: "Debates in the Press and in Private Correspondence" and "Debates in the State Ratifying Conventions". I have temporarily mislaid Volume Two, so I can't summarize its contents/divisions. It is published by The Library of America. (ISBN 0-940450-42-9)

OK! Let's run with this a while. This is interesting and exactly the sort of discussion for which I was hoping. I also hope that this thread proves sufficiently interesting and provacative so as to entice others to participate as well. So that I don't run off into left field responding to something that is NOT your position (or that is not your understanding of the position of Objectivists at large), please allow me to attempt to summarize what I gathered from your preceding post: It would appear that my understanding/definition of the "concept" of photography is much larger than yours. Mine includes many activities both before and after the pressing of the hypothetical shutter button -- activities that you appear willing to call "artistic", but which you exclude from your definition of "photography" per se. (Moreover, you seem to consider only activities PRIOR to the exposure, but I'll get back to that thought later.) Paraphrasing: "The 'artistic' in the activity of the photographer precedes the act of exposing the light-sensitive medium. It lies in the selecting (and by implication the omitting), the arranging, the illuminating, etc. -- and NOT in the recording/exposing. Similarly, the 'artistic' in the activity of the composer precedes the act of actually writing it down. It lies in the arrangement of the audible ideas -- and NOT in the comparatively mundane transcription of those ideas into written notes on paper." So far, so good? I wonder why it is that the concept of "composing" refers to the "idea creation" phase of the composer's activity, but the concept of "photographing" refers only to the "transcription/recording"? Does this seem arbitrary to anyone? Or is there a rational foundation for this different treatment? Does the "art" of the painter lie in BOTH the conception of the idea AND in the execution of the concrete reality? Same for a sculptor? I think not. A skilled copyist who sees and paints a clone of the Mona Lisa is not a "painter" and is therefore not an artist. Likewise, a skilled transcriptionist who hears a Halley concerto and writes it down (accurately, faithfully and equally beautifully) is not a "composer" and is therefore not an artist. It seems, then, that the execution is actually LESS essential than the conception -- since the execution can be mimicked by the non-artist. How do we decide which precise moment in the creative process to consider "essential" in each of these activities? In the cases of painting and composing as described above, we seem to be focusing on the visualization or conceptualization phase. The "execution" phase can be decidedly non-artistic -- the activity of a craftsman or a technician. In contrast, in the case of the photographer, we seem to (rather arbitrarily) consider only the moment of execution/exposure to be essential to the activity/concept of "photography". Much of what I consider "essential" to fine photography occurs both before and after the instant of actual exposure. If, instead of also clicking the button on your artist-friend's camera, you had (in your excitement) set up an easel and canvas and made an oil-painting of your friend's arrangement of lights, objects, textures, etc., would your activity have been "artistic" in this case? When the visual data enters your eyeball, is processed by your brain, and when your brain directs your hand to mix and select the colors and apply them to the surface in a texture of your own choosing, does your creation not become infused with your own personal value judgements about the nature of life and reality? What if, prior to taking his lunch, your friend had kept his exposure data secret and scrambled the controls on the camera -- leaving you to make these selections for yourself. You make different selections and thereby create (accidentally, insofar as you are hypothetically not knowledgeable either in optics or in the characteristics and behaviors of your friend's chosen light-sensitive medium) a quite different image. It is different in terms of which portions of the image are sharp and unsharp, which portions of the subject's tonal range are rendered and how (i.e., different relative densities or colors on the negative and/or subsequent print), etc. Alternatively, let's stipulate that your artist-friend depressed the shutter, reloaded the camera with fresh, identical light-sensitive medium, and left the camera absolutely unaltered when he left for lunch. You expose a negative absolutely identically to his. He, however, chooses a chemical developer that either accentuates or minimizes the grain characteristics of his chosen emulsion, according to his vision and preconceptualization. He selects a development time and temperature to either expand or reduce the range of tones/densities on his negative. He prints it in a different size, with a different crop on on a paper (or a non-paper light-sensitive material) with a peculiar texture -- all choices made for their contributions toward realizing the preconceptualized vision. (This is a tip of the "post-exposure artistry" iceberg to which I earlier said I would return.) I know that you are suggesting that this *is* the artistic portion of the photographer's activity. Yet this seems to reduce the photographer's activity to the equivalent of that of a flower arranger, interior decorator or cosmetologist -- essentially that of an "arranger", an "illumination specialist" or "makeup & wardrobe expert". I think, for example, of a "sandcastle artist" whose art is unrelated to the creation of two-dimensional images, but who uses film merely to "record" or "archive" his creations. That's not how I see myself. So where does this leave us? I guess my most pressing question at the moment is why Objectivists wish to define "photography" so narrowly, while defining other 2D visual arts much more broadly.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post, to reflect upon it, and to share your reactions/thoughts. This is a very fine re-phrasing of what I termed "visual stenography" above. And while it may accurately reflect what occurs in the case of an amateur snapshooter, it is precisely this limited understanding of creative photography with which I take exception. The task of the Objectivist artist, as I have come to understand it in my admittedly limited study thus far, is to fashion a new, concrete representation of reality that incorporates his/her metaphysical value judgements about the nature/essence of life. This representation is to be experienced by the contemplator holistically -- "right-brain" style, if you will -- rather than incrementally, linearly, "left-brain" style. The task of the Objectivist contemplator of art is to grasp these metaphysical value judgements and understand the artist's sense of life -- regardless of whether these judgements are "right" or "wrong" by Objectivist standards, or whether they coincide (or not) with those of the contemplator himself. That said, let's see if I can bring this back to the specific case of the photographer. Van Gogh chooses a certain palette of colors, and creates a unique pattern of textures, to render his recreation of a night sky -- the likes of which none of us have ever seen and which certainly doesn't exist in reality. He does so in order to create a new, concrete representation of his vision of life (whatever that might be). He purposefully controls the range of brightness values, the hues, their respective saturations -- and their proximities to one another -- in order to achieve his ends. (Much like a composer purposefully controls the range of tones, their intensities and qualities, their arrangement, etc.) If the photographer merely aims his apparatus and depresses the shutter -- leaving all these things to chance and the characteristics/limitations of his medium -- then he is certainly not behaving "artistically". But a photographer might also purposefully control the selection of available hues (by filtration either at the moment of exposure or in printing, or in digital post-processing). He may likewise control -- either expanding or compressing -- the range of brightness values, in accordance with his vision, value judgements, sense of life, etc. He can create a reality the likes of which was NOT available to be "seen" and which doesn't (did not) exist in reality, but which incorporates his values and Weltanschauung. The photographer can create an image that is colorful or colorless, that incorporates a broad or narrow range of tones, in a monochromatic or polychromatic style, that is sharp or unsharp (or which embodies a selective mix/arrangement of sharpness and unsharpness). He can control both the subject and the lighting in the studio, or he can take these as he finds them in nature. He can control/alter the light as it falls on his selected subject, and again as it reflects from the subject and enters his apparatus. He may control/alter the light again in the printing process. He may coat with light-sensitive emulsion his choice of glass, paper, plastic, tin, cloth, leather -- even lumber or a brick, if that is his choice. His apparatus itself may be a complex piece of technology with sophisticated optics, or it may be a shoebox or coffee can with merely a pinhole for an aperture and his fingertip for a shutter. All these choices/controls are placed in service to his vision -- the image that exists PRIOR to the exposure only in the head of the photographer and nowhere in reality. This vision is certainly the byproduct of the photographer's philosophy and value-judgements, and the resulting image communicates these holistically to the subsequent contemplator of the photographer's creation. I absolutely understand what you're saying here. If we limit our understanding of "photography" to only include the "Kodak Instamatic" sort, the "point & push" variant, with commercial processing that is outside the control of the "shutter pusher" -- then I absolutely concur that this is NOT "art". I hope, however, that I've articulated the case for a more thoughtful, meaningful, value-judgement-infused sort of photography -- a photography where the whole is "greater than the sum of the parts". I would love to hear from aestheticians with a deeper understanding of Objectivism than my own, however. In all frankness, I am concerned with this issue primarily because of the "all or nothing" approach that I perceive on the part of Objectivism (with a capital "O"). I've read repeatedly that every word of both Ayn Rand and Leonard Peikoff is perfect and complete, and that if one alters a single brick the entire wall of Objectivism comes tumbling down. I'm not looking to pick an argument; rather, I am attempting to respectfully inquire as to where my thinking on this matter is in error (inasmuch as I seem to disagree here with the formal position of Objectivism). -Bill

Where to begin . . . I'm 45. Over the years I've picked up various degrees in philosophy, fine art, political science, etc. The most cleverly-titled degree cites "Justice, Morality and Constitutional Democracy" as my major. English is my mother tongue. I am competent (some might say "fluent", but I know better) in both written and spoken German. A lifetime ago (it seems) I could read ancient Greek, but I'd hate to try it today. I am a photographer by trade at the moment. I also teach photography. And I self-publish a small, quarterly newsletter (on an obscure automotive-related topic) to about 1,000 subscribers. I have built and operated several small businesses at various points in my life -- the longest-lasting being a computer/network business (sales, service, consulting, training, etc.) I am something of an "exchange artist", one might say. I seem to have a talent for turning my hobbies/interests/passions into small businesses and finding others who value my miscellaneous talents enough to exchange for them. I was born and raised in Michigan, but I lived most of the past two decades in Colorado. I am currently giving the East Coast a try, however. (Connecticut, home of "Kelo v. New London") I don't much care for labels, and I'm a lousy "follower". So I don't call myself an "Objectivist" -- or anything else for that matter. I simply am what I am. My life has to date been focused around rational, purpose-driven activity; I've earned all I have and would like to keep it that way. I'm committed to re-earning the love and respect of my wife each day, as she is to earning and deserving mine. I don't feel as though anyone owes me anything, nor do I feel especially obligated to anyone else unless there's a fair exchange of values in it for me. I've read most of Ayn Rand's fiction (a few of her novels multiple times), and I'm currently working on Leonard Peikoff's Objectivism: the Philosophy of Ayn Rand. I first bumbled across this forum as a result of a Google search (on the term "Rand", I suspect). I've lurked and read here for a while now, but only recently have I registered and created a post or two. I feel I have more to learn than to offer (aside from my questions) at the moment. - Bill

This is not unlike existing "hate crime" statutes that permit two murders (which are objectively identical in every detail) to be punished differently, based solely on what the perpetrator was *thinking* at the time.

I've searched out and read previous posts/threads on this subject, but I'd like to nevertheless revisit it from a slightly different angle. As a starting point, Stephen Speicher quotes in previous thread from Ayn Rand's The Romantic Manifesto: Rand seems to regard the photographer as a technician and photography itself as a form of skilled craftsmanship -- a sort of "visual stenography", if you will -- that is no more "artistic" than the craft of the recording technician who makes a recorded reproduction of a Halley concerto. While the music is certainly "art", the recording of same is not. As I read the above quotation: Art = "selective re-creation", "creation of a concrete" from a visual pre-conceptualization vs. Craft = "selective reproduction" of an existing concrete "Selectivity" alone -- the act of choosing what to include or omit, or which visual characteristics to emphasize or de-emphasize -- is insufficient to make an activity "artistic", according to Rand. This view is reinforced by many "photographers" [sic] who use the term "capture" to describe their own activity -- as though all photographs are merely "found" and faithfully recorded by their "visual stenography" instruments. Now for the questions I'd like to discuss: In the case of a painter, what is his/her actual "creation"? The tangible, paint-covered canvas? Or the image/vision embodied thereupon? Similarly, the "creation" of a composer isn't the tangible, written score. Nor is it the recording via whatever media. It's the sound(s), the arrangement of the ideas, right? In the case of creative photography, doesn't the vision or the idea precede the tangible embodiment of same? The photographer's creation is the image or the vision -- which may or may not already exist in reality -- rather than the final print. I acknowledge that some photography certainly may be merely documentary in nature -- a dutiful reproduction of what is, without significant value-add from the mind of the person depressing the shutter button. If a painter arranges a real bowl of fruit on a table before him from which to work, or a real human subject on a posing stool, does his/her rendering of these "existing concretes" become just as art-less as that of the photographer? If not, wherein lies the difference? Reality is processed by the mind of the artist; a vision is conceived in the mind before the brush ever touches the canvas (or before the film is ever loaded). Both use their knowledge of the characteristics of their respective media to make their visions become a sharable reality. All thoughts welcomed.