It began life as a trireme
And ended up being a two-wheeled cart.
The Greeks built a trireme nicknamed Thunderprow which they thought the gods themselves had blessed so that it couldn't be sunk or fail to sink enemy ships. But eventually after many successful battles, it needed to be repaired with about half of the timbers needing to be replaced. The old timbers were kept as a mark of respect.
Another third of the original timbers needed to be replaced, and then the captain had Thunderprow sailed back to port for a general overhaul. While it was out on patrol, the people of the town rebuilt the ship from the old parts as a monument.
The current version of Thunderprow was less successful than the original in naval engagements. To Sorites, the captain of the ship, the monument undermines them by making it seem that the ship reconstructed from old parts is Thunderprow. The people thought that the ship was still Thunderprow even after two rounds of repairs in the shipyard. Nonetheless, Sorites made them destroy the original timbers and nails, but Thunderprow’s prowess continued to be mediocre.
Which of the three ships was the original Thunderprow?
I’ve been in this situation myself a couple of times. By the time my PC was stolen by some crooked removal man about seven years ago, it was no longer the machine I bought in late 1997. The casing was still original and, I think, the sound card might’ve survived, but the rest had long since gone. The only other original parts were the keyboard, mouse and speakers. Similarly, I once had a bike, the frame of which sheared through one day. By the time that bike disappeared into history, probably only the peripheral parts of it were original. To all intents and purposes, it was a new bike.
The first version of Thunderprow was the original, I’d say, but the ship didn’t cease to be Thunderprow even after two refits. Similarly, you might say that English is no longer English because it’s changed so much over the past 1300 years or so from internal and external changes that it should be called something else. As the book notes, this is like asking how many grains make a heap of sand. There’s no fixed number, of course, because we have a rough idea of how a heap should look. We don't really care about how many grains it took to get to that point.
In other words, we have to be a bit vague when dealing with non-discrete entities because there’s no gap between now and now.
Another third of the original timbers needed to be replaced, and then the captain had Thunderprow sailed back to port for a general overhaul. While it was out on patrol, the people of the town rebuilt the ship from the old parts as a monument.
The current version of Thunderprow was less successful than the original in naval engagements. To Sorites, the captain of the ship, the monument undermines them by making it seem that the ship reconstructed from old parts is Thunderprow. The people thought that the ship was still Thunderprow even after two rounds of repairs in the shipyard. Nonetheless, Sorites made them destroy the original timbers and nails, but Thunderprow’s prowess continued to be mediocre.
Which of the three ships was the original Thunderprow?
I’ve been in this situation myself a couple of times. By the time my PC was stolen by some crooked removal man about seven years ago, it was no longer the machine I bought in late 1997. The casing was still original and, I think, the sound card might’ve survived, but the rest had long since gone. The only other original parts were the keyboard, mouse and speakers. Similarly, I once had a bike, the frame of which sheared through one day. By the time that bike disappeared into history, probably only the peripheral parts of it were original. To all intents and purposes, it was a new bike.
The first version of Thunderprow was the original, I’d say, but the ship didn’t cease to be Thunderprow even after two refits. Similarly, you might say that English is no longer English because it’s changed so much over the past 1300 years or so from internal and external changes that it should be called something else. As the book notes, this is like asking how many grains make a heap of sand. There’s no fixed number, of course, because we have a rough idea of how a heap should look. We don't really care about how many grains it took to get to that point.
In other words, we have to be a bit vague when dealing with non-discrete entities because there’s no gap between now and now.
Tomorrow, the Society for Useless Information puts itself out of business. Sharpen your irony now.
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