Off the Map

As you may know, unsanity is a popular topic in general semantics. It is distinguished in some way or another from insanity, but it’s not quite clear how the two concepts are distinguished in general semantics. In this post, I’d like to make a stab at distinguishing the two concepts.

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For an updated perspective on this topic, click here for a post from December 4th, 2010.

In the last year, I’ve stumbled upon an understanding of unsanity by relating it to sanity. In general semantics, you are probably familiar with the adage “The map is not the territory.” That adage can be viewed as a metaphor for understanding speech and its relationship with physical reality. This adage also forwards a useful concept of sanity, and by default, a useful concept of unsanity.

Actual physical reality be thought of as a territory.  Most speech (both written and spoken) is like a map of this territory–a map of actual physical reality. Putting these two notions together, sanity can be understood as having your speech in synch with actual physical reality.

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“The Earth is fairly round.”

Unsanity can be thought of as not having your speech in synch with actual physical reality.

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“The Earth is flat.”

What is implied by the statement that unsanity is not having your speech in synch with actual physical reality is that your speech forwards a delusional view of actual physical reality.

A way I like to put this is that unsanity is being fueled by fancy (rather than fact), and sanity is being fueled by fact (rather than fancy).

Now, insanity (with an i) is different than unsanity (with a u).  “Insanity” and “unsanity” are not synonymous terms, nor should they be.  In general semantics, insanity seems to be seen as something more problematic than unsanity.  Here is where I take a stab at the differences between the two concepts.

Much of my current understanding of insanity comes from listening to people use the word “insane” or “crazy.”  I have a pretty zany sense of humor, and it’s not uncommon for me to be affectionately called “insane” or “crazy.”  (There is also a conceptual difference between “insane” and “crazy” but I’ll leave that for another post.¹)  In thinking about what I’m doing and what elicits the comment “You’re insane!,” it strikes me that the general thread running through my behavior that leads a person to say that is that I’m doing something that could get me into trouble.  That is, insanity is behaving in a way that can cause oneself trouble.  If I do something that could get me in trouble, someone might be inclined to call me “insane.”

For example, it might be insane for me to play on railroad tracks.  It might be insane for me to drink bleach.  It might be insane for me to say something rude to another actor.  It might be insane for me to write a threatening letter.  Etc.  These actions aren’t truly insane, but instead they are judged by another person as insane.  There may actually be nothing all that troubling about the actions, because I might be quite safe in doing them.  (Think: Is a trapeze artist insane if he has a net?  He might not be thought of as behaving in a way that is going to cause him trouble because he is protected …)

So, with this understanding that insanity is behaving in a way that causes onseself trouble, let’s compare it with unsanity, believing in fancy over fact, i.e., having one’s speech out of synch with actual physical reality.

Already you can see a very big difference.  Unsanity has to do with conceptualization of reality.  Insanity has to do with goal-directed behavior.  Insanity in some sense is doing that which will interfere with the achievement of one’s goals rather than aiding one’s own pursuit.  It is practially goal-opposing behavior.  Unsanity has to do with reporting reality in a way that is inaccurate.

Given this, you may see how unsanity can lead to insanity.  If I conceptualize the railroad tracks as safe to play on, I might get myself into trouble.  If I conceptualize a net as secure when I do trapeze work, I might get myself into trouble.

I can’t say that at press I’m 100% behind these concepts of unsanity and insanity, but I’m liking the distinction so far.  For example, as mentioned in prior posts, definition has to do with conceptualization, and it is goal-directed behavior, so unsanity can be seen as behavior and, at that, trouble-inducing.  I’m okay for now for some overlap in the concepts, but generally speaking they are quite distinct.

If you have thoughts or your own distinction, please comment below.

NOTES

1. As for “crazy,” to give you a tease, it has more in my mind to do with unsanity than insanity.  “Crazy” seems to me to deal more with how one organizes reality–that is, it has more to do with conceptualization than goal-opposing behavior.

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See also: crazy, insane, insanity, sane, unsanity

Typically when you think of definitions, you probably think of those little phrases that trail terms in the dictionary.^{1, 2}  We are going to look at the process of defining a term (synonymous for now with “defining a word”) to see if we can better understand the process and take some mystery out of it. My hope is that after a new understanding of definitions, we’ll better be able to understand their practical value to us.

I’ll start by just laying some things out there:

What’s a term? A term is a word or phrase that stands for a concept.

Well, what’s a concept? A concept is an image in a person’s head.

This image can be thought of as a collection of important characteristics. Imagine an orange. When you think of an orange, you probably think of something round, with a dimply rind, orange in color. There are many more characteristics associated with a real-life orange, but you only imagine a relatively limited amount. The amount is probably not quantifiable other than to say what you think of is finite, and the number of actual characteristics a real-life physical orange has is infinite. The point is that the image in your head of an orange is abstract relative to an actual physical orange.

What’s a definition, then? A definition can be non-verbal (as in pointing at an orange and saying “That’s what I mean”). But usually we think of a definition as verbal (as in explaining “This is what I mean when I say ‘orange’…”). Let’s just pay attention to verbal definitions for now.

So, what’s a definition? A definition is a word or phrase that aims to help someone conceptualize a term.

That is, a definition is goal-directed behavior. That goal is to help someone else conceptualize a term. So agendas can come into play when defining a term. That agendas come into play is not necessarily an evil thing, it’s just something to note. When someone is defining a term, he may have personal or professional agendas he is trying to forward; he is not speaking absolute truth about “thee meaning of the term.”

With the above understood, let’s now look into the process of defining a term.  Let’s say we use the term “heebie jeebies” in a sentence. And let’s say we use it in a sentence heard by Larry, who’s not all that familiar with English, who is still learning words here and there. We use the term “heebie jeebies” in a sentence, and we see Larry’s brow furrow. He presumably doesn’t understand the term. No image comes to mind for him. He has no concept for the term “heebie jeebies.”  So this is when we go about seeking to clarify for Larry what we mean by this term.  We define the term.

To understand the term “definition,” think of an old television.  It has a particular definition to it.  Now think of a high-definition television.  It has improved definition.  The implication is that definition has to do with clarification of an image.  We are doing essentially the same thing when we define a term for Larry.   Larry has little to no image in his head when we use a particular term, so we define the term, and as a result Larry has a clearer image of what we mean when we use the term.  Put differently,when we define a term, we clarify a concept.

But when we define a term, we use more terms, which is to say that when we define a term, we depend on other concepts to clarify a particular concept.  When we define “heebie jeebies” as “feeling as if your skin is crawling,” this string of words we give, gives Larry images in his head.  From this combination of images, Larry can get a better sense of what is meant by the term “heebie jeebies.”  So, when we say “heebie jeebies,” and define it as “feeling as if your skin is crawling,” the next time we say “heebie jeebies,” Larry will bring to mind the image of that feeling.

Here is where agendas come into play.  If I have an interest in Larry understanding the feeling of heebie jeebies, I’ll define “heebie jeebies” as “feeling as if your skin is crawling.”  But if my goal is different–as in having an interest in Larry seeing heebie jeebies from a scientific perspective–I’ll define “heebie jeebies” in neuro-chemical terms.  If my goal is different still–as in having an interest in Larry seeing heebie jeebies from a terpsichorean perspective–I’ll define “heebie jeebies” in choreographical terms.  That is, depending on my interests, I’ll provide in my definitions concepts (terms) aligned with my interests.  I’ll call this phenomenon “the principle of definition bias.”

Here is where things can get really interesting.  I’ve had a big problem with how depression is characterized in commercials.  In at least one commercial I’ve seen for a prescription drug, I’ve heard the term “depression” defined as “a chemical imbalance.”  When we apply the principle of definition bias to this definition, we immediately admit (as well as see) that there is a biased, goal-aligned perspective of depression being forwarded in the definition.  That perspective is biased in seeing depression in one way but not other ways.  (For example, depression is not seen in emotional terms, or functional terms, or practical terms, but instead in chemical terms.)  When we call to mind that there is a prescription drug being sold, you can see how the definition of “depression” as “a chemical imbalance” is a convenient way to define “depression.”  By defining “depression” as “a chemical imbalance,” well, it “makes sense” to fight the chemical imbalance with balancing chemicals.  That is, with the drug being marketed . . .

You can probably tell I see the bias in the definition of the term “depression” as inimical.  But definition isn’t always inimical: It can be seen as organizational.  An organization (whether it be an organization of many people or an organization of just you) has goals.  In having those goals, the organization takes on particular perspectives about various things in its path.  It defines terms relative to its goals, whether it does it actively or passively (accidentally).  Essentially, it organizes its life around its goals and consistent with its goals.  It might see value in something that you don’t value because some of your goals differ.

Just look at the waste management industry.  It sees value in those black garbage bags you call “trash.”  Its goal is to collect what your goal is to throw out.  You define as “trash” what it defines as “bounty.”  And taking on your bias about black garbage bags would probably sink the waste management industry.  Instead, it organizes black garbage bags differently than you do.

We can make a more general characterization about definitions and say that definitions are strategic.  They can be inimical, they can be organizational, they can be any number of things, but generally speaking, they are strategic, meaning they are aligned to aid the achievement of our goals.  Definitions are not “truths,” disembodied from human construction.  Instead, they are very human, and in being very human, they are biased by humans, and in particular, biased by their goals.

What we’re talking about essentially when talking about definitions is conceptualization.  Definitions are concepts about concepts.  How we conceptualize (define) things has effects on our behavior.  These effects can be to our advantage.  They can be to our disadvantage.  They can affect our speed, our comfort, our confidence, etc.  The effects can be immediate, less immediate, eventual, etc.  But the general point is that definition has human effects, social consequences, etc.

We need to be aware of the principle of definition bias.  We need to take a critical eye to the definitions we hear, rather than blindly accepting them. We need to know that goals operate when defining terms, and definitions aren’t without the hint of goals.  But taking a critical eye doesn’t mean all-out rejecting definitions; it just means to consider the goals and whether we respect the goals in the ways the definer does.

NOTES

1. You refer to this phrase as “the meaning of the term.” So, a meaning and a definition are pretty much the same in your head.

The word “definition” is bit better of a term than the word “meaning.” Why? The word “meaning” has a lot of different, um, meanings, so it can be a bit confusing what its, um, definition is.

For example, words can have meanings, but also can actions, and also can stories, and also results, and so on. Each kind of thing represented by the word “meaning” differs pretty significantly that you kinda havta distinguish what you imply by the word “meaning” when you use it if you’re having any kind of serious, technical conversation.

Else, inevitably, the word “meaning” starts getting misapplied and confusing. If you’re just talking about word-meanings, in a conversation someone can start thinking about action-meanings and try to apply the same logic of word-meanings to action-meanings. That would be like trying to apply the same logic of color-orange to fruit-orange. The color orange does not grow on trees. Likewise, the action-meaning does not trail words in the dictionary.

So we prefer to use the word “definition” instead of the word “meaning.”

2. We should note that dictionaries, at least in theory, are descriptive rather than prescriptive. That is, they are resources that document how terms have been used historically; they show roughly how particular terms were defined in the past. Dictionaries, at least in theory, are not legislators of definitions. That is, they do not determine what a term “should” mean. This essay talks about the prescriptive nature of definition. In my opinion, more often people operate in this mode and less often operate in the descriptive mode. That is, people talk about what they mean, and in so doing determine what a particular term “should” mean, at least when they use the term. People don’t strictly talk in a way consistent with historical dictionary definitions.

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See also: definition, meaning

Argh.

Many years I think I’ve suffered from some order of confusion because I lacked a very helpful word. That word? “Concept.”

In Alfred Korzybski’s book Science and Sanity, he takes a staunch position against using the word “concept.” He doesn’t seem to explain why other than saying he has some sort of gripe against the word for its philosophical baggage. I can only imagine he refers to debates in philosophy about what the word “concept” referred to, debates which were probably excessively confusing and problematic.

On pages lxii-lxiii of the “Introduction to the Second Edition,” Korzybski wrote:

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[T]he term ‘concept’ is widely used, and the users are not conscious that this term has elementalistic implications of ‘mind’ or ‘intellect’ taken separately, which then becom verbal fictions. The actual facts, however, can be simply expressed with correct structural implications. What is called ‘concept’ amounts to nothing more or less than a verbal formulation, a term which eliminates the false-to-fact implications. Students of general semantics are strongly advised never to use the elementalistic term ‘concept’, but the non-elementalistic ‘formulation’ instead. We could eventually berate and ridicule people for their old neuro-linguistic habits, but in our work we take the neurological attitude and realize the difficulties of linguistic habits and neurological recanalization. From this point of view we only face understandingly the inherent difficulties. I can even now hear the reactions of some of my readers, ‘I fully agree with you, and I believe it is a very fine concept’ ! And so it goes.

I asked Korzybski scholar Bruce Kodish if he had any insights into why Alfred was so against the word “concept.” Bruce is working on a biography of Korzybski and I thought he might have knowledge of some correspondence or lecture I missed explaining why the word “concept” is such a problematic word. Bruce replied via email on February 21st, 2010, in what can only be assumed as an informal, unofficial position:

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First of all, I don’t care whether you use the term ‘concept’ or not.

Korzybski objected to it because it, like ‘idea’ had the baggage of years of philosophical discussions where both terms had become disembodied, detached from what he considered the rather important notion that ‘concepts’ and ‘ideas’ are generated by human nervous systems. The term ‘formulation’ on the other hand seems to imply a formulator. That, in short, constitutes his rationale. The important thing it seems to me is how you use the terms and carefulness with which you avoid possible false-to-fact implications. I admit that ‘concept’ or ‘idea’ sometimes goes a bit more tripplingly from the tongue , than ‘formulation’.

So basically we have in general semantics the belief that the word “concept” is elementalistic, and as a result of being elementalistic, is false-to-facts. Just so you’re not lost, elementalism is merely the splitting verbally of that which cannot be split physically. For example, saying “mind” or “body” when mind and body can’t be separated physically. We might say “mind-body” to be more non-elementalistic.

From what I’m given above, the elementalism involved in the term “concept” is that it somehow ignores the conceptualizer, generating conversation about “mentation” (to use Bruce’s term) as if it exists in some ether independent of the human’s brain’s manufacture, “disembodied.” For Korzybski, it would seem that the word “formulation” doesn’t ignore the formulator and as such is a non-elementalistic term. (You might see here when you disagree. I kinda do. However, “formulation” is formed from a verb while “concept” isn’t, so I might buy the argument that “formulation” invokes a formulator.)

Well then, Alfred.

In my own writing, when I decided to take back the word “concept” and start using it, I found an inexplicably tremendous growth in my writing, not to mention coherence and power. I found that there is something different between a concept and a formulation, that Alfred shouldn’t have confused the two, and confusing the two may have accidentally limited the understanding and growth of general semantics.

That’s a pretty large statement, but it was a pretty expansive liberation I experienced when I got to know the word again. Let’s look at the word “concept” and figure out what it means.

In common parlance, the word “concept” suggests some kind of encompassing. It could be an encompassing idea or an encompassing statement. Let’s focus on statements because they’re easier to measure. Here is a concept: “All dogs are animals.” This statement encompasses dogs and explains they should be treated as animals. Here is a slightly different concept: “Dogs are animals.” Again, it is an encompassing statement, only lacking “all” but pretty much insinuating “all.” It too encompasses dogs. And here is another slightly different concept: “Some dogs are animals.” Encompassing, yes, but just of fewer dogs.

Note what concepts do. They not only explain, but they are also guides for human behavior. If I conceptualize dogs as animals for you, then you will go treat a dog like an animal. If instead I conceptualized dogs for you as friendly family members, you will then go treat my dog as a friendly family member. If instead I conceptualized dogs for you as bloodthirsty killers that will randomly attack people, I’m going to get a completely different kind of behavior from you when you see my dog, probably among the scared variety of behaviors.

Plus, concepts offer the setups for logical thinking. One can easily make deductions on how to behave when taught concepts. “All dogs are animals” allows for deductive reasoning that this dog should be treated like an animal. “Some dogs are animals” insights different deductions but deductions nonetheless. Without a concept, decision making can be difficult or rules and principles can seem haphazardly assembled. In improv, it seems like a whole bunch of rules randomly thrown together, but if you’re taught a concept that explains improv, that concept can bring order to all of those rules and principles, not to mention help the person divine answers to problems she faces when she does improv that aren’t answered with typical rules or principles.

As I wrote my book on improv these last few years, it was the word “concept” I lacked but the word “concept” I so direly needed. Outside of writing the book, I would say things like “I’m trying to wrap my mind around improv,” when I meant merely “I’m trying to conceptualize improv” or “I’m trying to find a concept in order to teach improv.” The word “formulation” didn’t cut it. It sent me on the wrong path. In truth, I had a concept of improv early on that brought together so many of the rules and principles you hear in class, but I didn’t have the word “concept” to describe that concept. I didn’t realize that that was the power of my teaching: that I was able to conceptualize improv in such a way that made learning it easy. Instead, I thought I was formulating improv in a particular way. Formulation is not conceptualization.

You see, it’s much too general, Alfred, to refer to a concept as a formulation. For a comparsion, it would be like referring to a car as a transporter. The description is accurate but it is not very helpful. Nixing the word “car” for “transporter” means the person doesn’t realize it’s something that’s, say, demanding of gas or suited just for the road. Similar non-reactions happen when nixing the word “concept” for “formulation.” Concepts have instructive value; the word “formulation” doesn’t bring instructive value to mind. Instead, it just focused on the configuration of ideas. It notes the “allness” in “All dogs are animals,” the is of identity in the statement, maybe the orders of abstraction. It doesn’t focus on the important mind-framing aspect concepts have.

So I’m bringing back the word “concept.” Korzybski may object, but I’d have a good time trying to convince him to take it back. I feel it’s important in the future growth of general semantics to invite back in the word “concept.” The reason is that we largely lack a concept of general semantics. IGS is currently debating a concept of general semantics. I hope we’ll have something out soon. (We’re referring to it as a definition of general semantics, but a definition is just a concept of a concept, from what I can tell!)

Maybe just one of my immediate friends these days is involved in philosophy. The others wouldn’t have any philosophical issues with the term “concept,” from what I can tell. And I don’t think my philosophy friend would, either. And just because it sounds nice to say, this last paragraph is a concept.

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See also: concept, formulation

In continuing the line of thinking from my prior post, the word “identity” has some ambiguity (multi-meaning, that is) in everyday speaking and writing that doesn’t always match the korzybskian use of the term. As a result, any time someone invokes the term “identity” in the context of general semantics, it tends to come under attack. This should not be the case, because non-korzybskian meanings of the word “identity” don’t cause problems, and in fact aid the movement of general semantics.

If we look at popular uses of the term “identity,” and we look at their synonyms, we find that these synonyms differ drastically from Korzybski’s meaning for the word. When Korzybski spoke of identity, he spoke of “absolute sameness in all respects.”

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Identity is defined as ‘absolute sameness in all respects’, and it is this ‘all’ which makes identity impossible. If we eliminate this ‘all’ from the definition, then the word ‘absolute’ loses its meaning, we have ‘sameness in some respects’, but we have no ‘identity’, and only ‘similarity’, ‘equivalence’, ‘equality’, etc.

quoted from Korzybski’s Science and Sanity,
“Preface to the First Edition,” page xcvi

But note the other meanings of the term as listed in the Thesaurus.com entry, particularly this one:

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Definition: person’s individuality

Synonyms: character, circumstances, coherence, distinctiveness, existence, identification, integrity, ipseity, name, oneness, particularity, personality, self, selfdom, selfhood, selfness, singleness, singularity, status, uniqueness

One word distinctly missing from this list is “persona.” That is, one’s identity is one’s persona. Or put another way, “When I say ‘your identity,’ I mean your persona.”

The simplified definition for this version of identity is a “person’s individuality.” It is a starkly different one from the korzybskian meaning. It is also starkly different from the simplified definition of the other meaning listed in the entry for the term on Thesaurus.com:

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Definition: similarity, correspondence

Synonyms: accord, agreement, congruence, congruity, empathy, equality, equivalence, identicalness, likeness, oneness, rapport, resemblance, sameness, selfsameness, semblance, similitude, unanimity, uniformity, unity

This definition is closer to the korzybskian meaning for the term “identity.” But the lesson should now be clear: When someone in regular parlance uses the word “identity,” we shouldn’t automatically have a problem with it.¹ It may have the korzybskian meaning of “absolute sameness in all respects,” i.e., “similarity,” but it might instead take on the non-korzybskian meaning of “persona,” i.e., “person’s individuality.”

Note the ambiguity, then, when Korzybski makes war with “the is of idenity.” That’s the name for the “is” in statements like these:

• Man is man.
• Man is a man.
• I am a man.
• All people are men or women.
• I’m a doctor.
• You’re a doctor.
• You’re a criminal.
• You’re an idiot.
• You’re a gentleman and a scholar.

Essentially, to Korzybski, it seemed that any statement with the structure of “noun + be-verb + noun” contained “the is of identity.”

But in these statements, does the speaker intend to communicate that the thing represented by the first noun is identical in all respects to the thing represented by the second noun? Could it be instead that the speaker is assigning a persona to the thing represented by the first noun?

I think at many times, the answer is yes.

For the first kind of behavior, I will rename the “is of identity” to “the is of identification.” Essentially that is the behavior going on when believing in absolute sameness in all respects.² And that is the kind of “is” that Korzybski has a problem with.

I will then make the case that Korzybski didn’t necessarily war against the other kind of “is”–“the is of characterization” (to use a theatrical term).³ General semantics needs this “is of characterization.” We have become wrongly and unwisely afraid of the word “is,” thinking signally and absolutely that it is always an “is of identity” suggesting “absolute sameness in all respects.” Sometimes it just doesn’t mean that. Dictionaries will back this up. Thesauri will give further support. General semantics needs “the is of characterization” because we in the field are often enough confronted with the simple passing question, “What’s general semantics?” We need to have a characterization. And in my opinion, we need a characterization that is not befuddling. General semantics needs to return to sounding like familiar things.

Recently, at a basic level I’ve taken to referring to general semantics as a field. (“General semantics is a field.”) Sometimes I characterize it as a study, other times as a therapeutic system, and I have ways and reasoning for to characterizing it as a science, a discipline, and or maybe even a theory. In light of an interest in keeping it from becoming marginalized or forgotten, and in light the interest in repopularizing it, I’ve come to believe that whatever suits those two goals lends toward the kind of definition (characterization) of general semantics we should promote. I feel the Institute of General Semantics sits in the most influential position to influence thinking about general semantics. And in my opinion, it’s been in an amorphous state at least popularly for some time, maybe 10-20 years. It would be nice to bring back form to general semantics.

1. (Doing so would probably be termed a negative signal reaction.)

2. Korzybski wisely found fault with the practice of identification, and it receives much of his attention and attack.

3. If you prefer, we could call it “the is of persona” (in keeping with our line of discussion) or “the is of positioning” (to use a marketing term).

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See also: identity, is-of-identity, marketing