QUOTE(Steve @ Jul 26, 2004, 02:48 PM)

This question popped into my head today. Since I began interest in philosophy, etc, I've always taken as a given that achieving greater levels of "enlightenment" is a noble purpose in life. But I don't even understand what this entails. What do we hope to gain by obtaining this so-called enlightenment? What are we getting closer to? ....
.... but is there anyone who can give a good response to this question to point me in the right direction? I think there are many more people like me who are seeking the answer to this question as well, whether they realize it yet or not. I believe it's a topic that warrants discussion.
Steve that is what philosophy does to you...welcome :-) Whilst sittin in beautiful surroundings near the Vietnamese/Chinese today I re-asked myself this same question.
Everybody begins life as a naive realist. We believe what we perceive. We progress through developmental stages inwhich our cognitive abilities and corresponding perceptual skills take on some sophistication. (Piaget) At some point in our lives, we become convinced that objects exist independent of our perception of them - that is, our cars do not stop existing simply because they are locked away in our garages. Also, we come to suspect, at some point in our lives, that objects exist independent of our wishes and beliefs - that is, we cannot make our cars go away simply because that is what we want. Even with the strongest of beliefs, we cannot wish our cars into teacups. Generally, we believe that reality is objectively discovered and not subject to our wishes or beliefs.
The problem is that we do not and cannot discover everything. Our perceptual abilities seem limited. It is only through the assistance of technological facilities that we can detect certain sounds heard by dogs or see with the sharpness of an eagle. Without devices such as the radio, we cannot tune in on the sound waves which are almost always around us. Even the things we do perceive may not be perceived correctly. Our senses sometimes fool us. We sometimes see illusions, like a bent pencil in a half a glass of water. Also, if our senses were somehow differently constructed; if, for example, we had eyes like those of a bee, then we would either perceive reality differently or perceive a different reality.
The reality we see differs, to some extent, in the eye of each beholder. This is because there are times when we adjust our perceptions by taking mental leaps. Nobody has ever seen a perfectly square box, yet we still attribute squareness to certain objects. We ignore the slight imperfections of an otherwise square object. We ignore a small blemish on an otherwise pretty face. (Unless we don't like the person. Then the blemish becomes larger.) We fill in our incomplete picture of reality with our own details. More than this, we sometimes impose our ideas onto that which surrounds us. We cannot discover everything, therefore we create certain things.
It may be that the problems with perception are insurmountable, and we actually create everything. The law of gravity did not exist until someone made a mental leap. The laws of logic and the laws of physics may be nothing more than the figments of someone's imagination. It sometimes seems that all scientific explanations are only the most current mythologies that we use. They may be no more real than the ghosts and gods that we once thought were real. Thousands of years from now, if we don't go through another dark ages, people may view our most sophisticated observations as we view Thor and Zeus.
Is there one reality which each of us perceives differently, or is there a different reality for each of us? Is there an objective reality which we can, to some extent, discover; or is reality entirely subjective?
Are we even on the right track? Perhaps we are presumptious in thinking that we are even capable of discovering or creating anything. Perhaps it is reality which forces itself upon us.
I must be able to discard my beliefs in exchange for truth. Even when the "real" world is discomforting to me, I must prefer it to the security of an imaginary playground. I may ignore the small imperfections on an otherwise square box or the blemish on an otherwise pretty face, but I cannot ignore blatant injustice or that which is of potential danger. I cannot pretend harmful elements do not exist. I cannot project only pleasant things onto the world. As paradoxical as it may sound, I want to learn more than simply that which I want to learn.
The method I use to find objective knowledge is observation and generalization. I observe that which surrounds me, and I generalize things based on those observations. My generalizations then become something else that I can observe, and I can make further generalizations. I can observe something which calls itself Aimee, and I can generalize that Aimee is a woman. Further, I can generalize that all women are human being and all humans are living entities. The further I get from the specific person, Aimee, the more abstract I become. Even when I observe the method I am using to generalize about the method I am using, I must conclude that my conclusions are a product of this method. (S.I. Hayakawa, Language in Thought and Action, 1963)
Unfortunately, all generalizations based upon observations are not objective facts. False conclusions could be due to insufficient evidence or faulty reasoning from the evidence. Even the most carefully formulated generalizations can be false. If a thousand Abadabs are Bugaboos, it does not necessarily follow that all Abadabs are Bugaboos. It is this inconclusiveness of all inductive reasoning which prompted David Hume to say that knowledge is only an illusion to be maintained by the ignorant.
However, even Hume's statement is a product of this inductive method. In a strict sense, there is no way to assert absolute skepticism which does not desolve into an ultimate paradox.
Our classification system could be wrong, but it can be adjusted in the same way it was created, through the inductive process of observation and generalization.
We already know that inductive arguments are always inconclusive. Deductive arguments are always circular. It would seem, then, that all propositions of logical truth are merely sophisticated pronouncements of faith, and the only two positions open to philosophers are dogmatism and nihilism.
And what about language in this search? Language not only facilitates but also limits our awareness. The good thing about our language is that it allows us to conceptualize rather than depend on percepts and sensations as do other living things. It is because of our language that we can grasp the gestalt of our experiences. We can formulate cognitive maps which guide us where our inherent reflexes and automatic functions cannot. Without language, we could not make many of our generalizations from our observations.
However, we are also limited by the limitations and structure of our language. Just like formal logic, language ultimately rests on social conventions. How can I depend on something which is the result of that which was haphazardly chosen by the group of people of whom I happen to be part? There are different languages with different structures which may very well shed a different light on my ideas. How do I know that the pattern of my language is the most reliable and accurate guide for showing the relation of my words to each other?
The true rationalist would maintain that there are certain principles of thought which go beyond mere convention. The law of identity and the law of non-contradiction are conventions based on underlying facts of reality. It does not matter what the convention is; it must always be true that A is A and not not-A. However, the rationalist can only assert this. He cannot prove that general truths are true. He must still assume that there is an order in nature, and reality is not beyond rational comprehension.
Even if we could base logic on underlying, objective facts of reality, there would still arise several problems. For example, Epimenides' paradox (The statement "I am lying." seems both true and false.), and Russel's construction (The statement immediately following this statement is false - The statement immediately preceding this statement is true.) are only a few of the brain teasers that still make logicians feel insecure.
Logic does not seem infallible as a criterian for truth, but other criteria are also not without problems. When two opposing views rest only on faith, then settlement cannot be easy. Majority rule, intuition, authority, revelation, etc. all can be wrong. Even pragmatism has only the appearance of truth.
At least logic is self-critical and self-correcting. It points to its own inadequacies. The other ways of arriving at truth do not have this safeguard. Perhaps an enlightened rationalism is still worthy of cultivation.
It may even be good that logic is not perfect. If there were no problems with logic, then the idea of freedom would be somewhat threatened. We could still say that one can choose not to be rational, but what is not rational about choosing to avoid a prison? Why should one choose to be rational if being rational locks one into a single course and prohibits creativity and surprise? If logic were perfect in every way, then a rational life would probably be a little dull.