per·spec·tive (pr-spktv)n.
A view or vista.
A mental view or outlook: “It is useful occasionally to look at the past to gain a perspective on the present” (Fabian Linden).
The appearance of objects in depth as perceived by normal binocular vision.
The relationship of aspects of a subject to each other and to a whole: a perspective of history; a need to view the problem in the proper perspective.
Subjective evaluation of relative significance; a point of view: the perspective of the displaced homemaker.
The ability to perceive things in their actual interrelations or comparative importance: tried to keep my perspective throughout the crisis.
The technique of representing three-dimensional objects and depth relationships on a two-dimensional surface. adj.
Of, relating to, seen, or represented in perspective.
(Thank you, www.dictionary.com)
Each of these definitions of "perspective" have surfaced in my everyday conversations of late, for no reason other than my own perspective seems so skewed these days. For example:
BOSS: I want you to look at this again. I don't think you gave it enough thought.
ME: Try looking at it from the client's perspective, and see if it makes more sense to you.
BOSS: It's your perspective I'm concerned about, not the client's.
(Do I really have to say that this was not a good day at work?)
OVERHEARD UNKNOWN PERSON ON A CELL PHONE: I'm trying to keep it in perspective, but I still think he's hiding something from me.
FRIEND: Well, that's a good thing, right?
ME: Depends on your perspective.
FRIEND: Everything depends on perspective, doesn't it?
ME: I'm finding that statement to be more and more true each day!
Okay, not all the definitions. I don't generally discuss artist's techniques.
As I mull over the conversations that give direct reference to perspective, I wonder (again) how we manage to communicate at all. Then I wonder if, in fact, we are communicating. If I have to invoke perspective in random discourse, aren't I really saying that the person attempting to relate to me has no hope of ever doing so? If a person engaged in conversation with me tells me that, God forbid, I'm not looking at a concept or situation with the right perspective, aren't they really saying that I have somehow not only failed to communicate my idea but also failed to incite their empathy?
The bottom line: If I invoke perspective into our conversation, aren't I telling you that I'm right, you're wrong, I'm smart, you're dumb, I'm big, you're little, and there's nothing you can do about it?
From a Fregian perspective (oh, ha ha ha), each of the definitions (again with the exception of the artist's technique) presented above has sense but no reference. Even the noun forms of the word reference subjective information. The concept of perspective is similar to that of the gryphon - when I say the word, you will understand it and will assume that the picture you have in your head that represents the concept is the same as mine, but we have no tangible fact to point to to demonstrate our intent (as in, "Look!! A gryphon!!!!). Not gonna happen. I can't point to my perspective to make sure you know it the same way I do. I can't point and say, "that's my perspective. Isn't it beautiful??? Isn't it true???????"
A sad side note: Love is the same. Sense but no reference. We never know if we're talking about the same thing. In my experience, we usually aren't.
From the Russellian point of view, if perspective could be reduced to a fact - an object of immediate perception - then we could discuss it, catalog it, even know it. For my man Bertrand, who hoped to reduce all language to facts and thus afford us the opportunity to paint an accurate picture of reality with a perfectly logical language, the concept of perspective must have been quite an obstacle. After all, he himself had at least one perspective, right? The resulting flurry of publishing by other analytical philosophers (Frege and Wittgenstein among them) seems to indicate that Russell's perspective was not entirely understood (and therefore not entirely factual, right??) and open not only to interpretation (or, horror of horrors, another perspective), but to actual argument. And since perspective (even, apparently, by definition) is wholly subjective, how does one posit it as fact OR argue about its veracity??
Logically, perspective - in any of its manifestations or states of definition - is an analytical nightmare. Reduced to a Russellian fact, it is non-sensical at best. Accepting, as would Frege, that perspective is a concept that has sense but no reference doesn't bring us any closer to universal objectivity. How then do we speak of understanding, especially when we are discussing the perspective of another person? How then do we feel justified in assuming the truth or falsity of such judgments? When I tell you that I am trying to see a situation from your perspective, how do you know that I am 1) trying, and 2) seeing?
Here's a fact for ya, Bertrand: You don't. Ever.
Which, in my humble opinion, is where analytical philosophy consistently fails. As long as I have a perspective, as long as you have a perspective, the realm of human existence continues to be a place that is largely without words that accurately reflect the state of that existence as a whole. I sorta, kinda, maybe understand where you're coming from; you think you might have a tenuous handle on my thoughts of the moment. And neither of us is capable of verifying the truth or falsity of our understanding, much less of our respective perpectives.
Which is what makes it all so interesting, right? Let's discuss how this relates to the elusive concept of free will at some point in the future, shall we?
Friday, April 21, 2006
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