J. H. van den Berg. A Different Existence: Principles of Phenomenological Psychopathology (1972)
—

«The patient of this book is convinced that his heart is diseased. The cardiologist states that there are no defects. His statement makes little impression upon the patient. The reason is obvious, now: physician and patient speak of different organs. The physician is thinking of a hollow muscle, furnished with valves and a septum. The patient speaks of the heart, which can be in the right place; for him, his heart had left the right place. He speaks of the heart that can be broken by a gesture or a glance, whereas the pathologist does not find a trace of a defect. The patient means the heart that can be quite all right even when the cardiologist finds it defective. And which can be diseased even when all physicians declare that it functions splendidly.

To say, then, that the patient “is physically expressing an emotional conflict” is to confuse two realities. He who says that the patient is converting, meaning conveying from one order to another, forgets that the patient is not speaking of the organs meant by the physician, and that he is not converting, not conveying anything from one sphere into another as he keeps speaking within the order of one reality, which he characterized by the fact that the distinction between body and soul has not been made.

The patient does have a diseased heart, he is not mistaken. Neither is he deluding himself; he is suffering from a serious heart condition; for the heart he means is the center of his world. That this center is disturbed, as the patient says, no one can doubt. His heart became cold. Yet not entirely cold. It is rebelling. It is beating restlessly against his chest.»

J. H. van den Berg. A Different Existence: Principles of Phenomenological Psychopathology (1972)
—

«My friend and I are talking to one another. This talking involves talking about something. Just talking, without having a subject to talk about, is impossible. We are talking about Iceland, which neither of us has ever visited, but which we know from the books we read. We are not talking about the image of it created in our minds — this image is a legacy of the objectless subject — but we mean Iceland as it really is. We are talking about a real country. When my friend talks about this country, I try to enter into the things he says; however inaccurate our opinions may be, I try to be in Iceland. When it is my turn to speak, he tries to be with me in Iceland. This being there, together, is our friendship.

[…] I see him, my friend. I see his enthusiastic expression. With my eyes, I go over his face, whose expression harmonizes with that Iceland evoked by him in my mind. In one glance, I see his body, appreciate his look, his smile, his hands. I show my appreciation to him, however vaguely expressed. My appreciation affords him the liberty of speaking as he is speaking, to look as he is looking, and to move as he is moving. My presence is no criticism of his expression but an appreciation of it. In my glance, he can be as he wishes to be. My speaking, hearing and seeing with him and my seeing of his speaking body cause an adhesion between him and his body. This adhesion between him and his body is literally the relationship between him and me: our friendship.

The same applies to me. I am talking about Iceland. I am evoking it with my words, perhaps to the extent that I see it in my mind — yet I have never been there. I do not see an image; my conceptions are reaching the real country, up north. The assumption that these conceptions are aimed at an image and not at reality is, again, the product of a psychology which separates man and world. The image is a sole individual’s possession, whereas this Iceland, reached and visualized through my words, is a possession of ours, my friend’s and mine. That is why I am speaking so easily; that is why I am seeing so much, because my friend is hearing me. I enter this Iceland without compunction, because this friendship with my friend knows no barriers. The removal of the barriers between me and the objects is the friendship between him and me. At the same time, I know he is looking at me. He is seeing me gesticulate, talk, look. I am moving my body freely; without obstruction, I am flowing into my arms, my hands, my throat and mouth, my eyes. I am in possession of my body; I am this body — which implies that I am on good terms with my friend.»

J. H. van den Berg. A Different Existence: Principles of Phenomenological Psychopathology (1972)
—

«It must be admitted that the patient generally follows the preference of his therapist; otherwise, he would not get well. If the therapist is a follower of Jung, the patient has archetypal dreams; with a follower of Sartre, they are existential. The patient learns to know the preference of his therapist; he gets ill in the latter’s preference so that he can get well in this preference. Even the patient suffering from a serious incurable psychiatric disease can, sometimes to a large extent, follow the preference of his physician. Every patient suffers, apart from suffering from his disease as such, from the disease as it exists in the opinion of his physician. He suffers from his physician’s point of view, although this is an odd way to put it. He even suffers from the textbook.

In fact, this is true for all diseases, the purely physical as well, yet it is particularly true for the psychiatric diseases. This fact had, and still has, consequences for the history of psychiatry. Symptoms come into existence and disappear, according to the psychiatrist's historically changing opinion, although almost always an essential element of the disease remains unaltered. This fluctuating of the symptoms with the theory applied is most apparent in neurosis. The symptoms vary from time to time, from country to country, from psychiatrist to psychiatrist, and from opinion to opinion.»

Вот это очень важно, и очень интересно всегда. Способ понимания психического расстройства как минимум на расстройство влияет, а лучше будет сказать, что понимание (в некотором специальном значении) это большая часть этого расстройства и есть. И сказано об этом, казалось бы, уже сколько раз, и все равно постоянно теряется. Как вообще можно говорить о “психических расстройствах” чтобы не заметить какую-то разницу: у нас тут natural или human kinds (естественное/гуманитарное?), объяснение у нас или понимание (erklären/verstehen). Как looping effects of human kinds по-русски то назвать, не могу сходу придумать. Или sense-making? Непонятно.

Элен Аппель "Раковина (с посудой)", 2024
акрил и масло на холсте

J. H. van den Berg. A Different Existence: Principles of Phenomenological Psychopathology (1972)

“Феноменология!”, — говорят в психиатрии, гештальт и экзистенциальной терапии, в реляционных вариантах психоанализа. Слово произносится, но что это такое, о чем, и чем полезно, понять не так то просто. Сложность в том, чтобы уловить о чем идет речь, но не увязнуть в объяснениях. Объяснения часто или настолько поверхностны и обманчиво понятны, что ничего не дают, или настолько философски нагружены (“начнем с Гуссерля…”), что понять их без дополнительной подготовки невозможно. “A Different Existence” ван ден Берга — объяснение хорошее, вряд ли достаточное, но полезное и вдохновляющее.

Книга построена в основном вокруг разбора одного клинического случая, с отвлечением на другие примеры и теоретические пояснения. И на этом примере показано как можно слушать и понимать жалобы пациента, не перебивая его историю инструментами теории (тут — психоаналитической). Жалобы сгруппированы по четырем категориям опыта: 1) мир (вещей), 2) тело, 3) другие люди, 4) время. Которые психодинамически могут быть объяснены , соответсвенно: 1) проекцией, 2) конверсией, 3) переносом, 4) искажением воспоминаний. На что у автора есть философские и терапевтические возражения. Написано легко и доходчиво.

—

С практической точки зрения феноменология нужна для преодоления привычного взгляда на происходящее. Для этого надо исполнить некий трюк, поворот ума. Феноменологический метод зверь неуловимый, потому что парадоксальный. Чтобы понять себя, вместо того, чтобы заглядывать “внутрь” предлагается смотреть “наружу”, в мир, на вещи. Это призыв перестать выдумывать и вернуться “к самим вещам”, позволить вещам говорить самим за себя. А вещам есть что сказать, как хорошо известно художникам и поэтам. При этом феноменология это не романтический субъективизм, но субъективность весьма дисциплинированная, и поэзия очень конкретная. Поэзия здесь это то, что есть, а не то что кажется. Теоретические и объективные наблюдения сомнительны, а повседневное правдиво и поэтому поэтично (или наоборот). Предлагается отбросить привычку ума разбивать мир на объекты, а потом беспокоиться, не будучи в силах собрать его обратно; перестать задумчиво выбиваться из потока жизни, и отстраненно за ним наблюдать. Не пропускать первый шаг восприятия, удержаться, и до того, как начать выдумывать и сочинять теории — прорваться назад, к тому, о чем мы их выдумываем — к пре-рефлективному смыслу, к прояснению экспериентального, к опыту и его структурам. Психология тогда это наука коммуникативная, описательная, поэтическая, медитативная.

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#id_books

Hélène Béland. Light catcher (2012)

David E. Cooper. Existentialism: A Reconstruction
—

«[In ‘pure’, Husserlian phenomenology] there is a further epoché which is perhaps more radical. In this further epoché, 'there exists no “I”… the natural human ego, specifically my own, is reduced to the transcendental ego.' […]

Whether thought of as embodied or as an immaterial Cartesian substance, a person or self is typically conceived of as something which retains identity over the course of time, possessed of a certain character and psyche. A person is a contingently existing individual and the subject of empirical, psychological investigation. Like any contingent, empirical entity, therefore, the person must be bracketed for purposes of 'essential intuition'. […] Something, of course, must remain after the human or empirical ego is bracketed — namely, the consciousness which is engaged in the bracketing exercise. This is what Husserl calls 'the transcendental ego', the pure consciousness before which the distilled essences are to be paraded. The word 'I', Husserl notes, is ambiguous, referring sometimes to an empirical self and sometimes to the pure consciousness for which that self is an object of investigation. From the point of view of this second, 'pure I’, it is irrelevant whether the first really exists. If everything I believed about myself qua empirical ego my past, my character, my body, etc. is mistaken, that takes nothing away from the essence which would have been instantiated had those beliefs been true.

[…]

[…] the Existentialist's judgement is that Husserl betrayed his own best insights. Sartre understates his criticism when he writes that 'Husserl has not always been faithful to his first intuition[s].’ More bluntly, Husserl was someone who did not know where to stop. The importance of the attack upon 'naturalism', for example, is to return our attention to the Lebenswelt, whereas Husserl saw it as the prelude to a global epoché in which the Lebenswelt itself would be bracketed. Again, the real import of the rejection of the Cartesian cogito is that human existence is not to be modelled upon that of things or substances. Husserl, unable to leave well alone, concludes that the self, in the shape of the transcendental ego, must therefore exist somehow outside of the empirical world. Worst of all, perhaps, Husserl betrays his own doctrine of intentionality. The doctrine's true message, that no sense can be made of consciousness except in terms of its engagement with the world, is contradicted by the phenomenological reduction which reduces experience to the 'immanent' contents of consciousness. The result of this reduction, as Sartre puts it, is that conscious acts become like so many 'flies bumping their noses on the window without being able to clear the glass'.»

David E. Cooper. Existentialism: A Reconstruction
—

The Existentialist shares Husserl's ambition to provide a denoscription of the world that is both fundamental and phenomenological. […] And it must describe the world as it is 'for us' as a phenomenon, in the sense of what is manifest to us. It will not be a trivial matter to find an account which fills both bills: one which is both fundamental and phenomenological.

In delineating our manifest understanding of the world, the Existentialist is not aiming to produce an account on which everyone will readily agree. Indeed the understanding in question does not, in his view, have the shape of an account or a theory at all. We should, in fact, be suspicious of people's responses to questions about how the world is, since these are liable to encapsulate a 'folk' version of the bad metaphysics and 'scientism' which have dominated thinking for too long. Moreover, the very fact that the responses will, to a degree, be reflective should make one wary of them. This is because the understanding we seek to describe is not that of reflectors, but of people actively engaged in everyday dealings with the world. Such an understanding is not at all apparent to people: it needs to be 'uncovered', made manifest, and the results may be surprising.

It is precisely the reflective, disengaged stance which the Existentialist holds responsible for the 'standard' account of the world against which his own is pitted. On the standard view, the world is essentially a collection of substances of more or less enduring, discrete physical objects. These are identified and distinguished through their intrinsic properties, such as size, colour and density. These substances stand in various relations to one another, pre-eminently spatial and causal ones. They arc, however, logically independent of each other, and indeed of anything else. (This is the feature captured by the term 'substance' in its traditional philosophical usage.)[…] To be sure, the world contains things hardly describable as physical objects events, dispositions, shadows, etc. but the assumption is that these can be handled as modifications of, or relations between, objects. […]

Sophisticates will no doubt want to offer an account of the world different in some respects from the 'naïve' one outlined. Scientifically educated, they will ascribe various complicated structural properties to things, and they may want to banish some familiar properties from the world colour and smell, say because they are too dependent on the perceiver's own make-up. But such moves represent a sophistication, not an abandonment, of the standard, spectatorial account. The scientist is a spectator with more than the naked eye to rely upon.

The Existentialist does not hold that the standard account is false or useless. What he rejects is its pretension to being fundamental and phenomenologically adequate. This account, he argues, is necessarily parasitic on a more basic kind: and the entities it describes are not ones we experience or encounter at all, except during special moments and for special purposes. What the standard account ignores is the degree to which the world is a human one, whose structure, articulation and very existence are functions of human agency. To speak with Sartre, the world is more 'the image of what I am' than I am the mirror of it.’

Yamamoto Masao. La Vie Simple #5022 (2021)

David E. Cooper. Existentialism: A Reconstruction
—

«The best place to start is with a view of self-estrangement which is very definitely not the Existentialist's. Elsewhere I have criticized what I dubbed the 'Polonian' account of self-estrangement and inauthenticity. Polonius, recall, told his son, 'To thine own self be true.' Perhaps he had no particular philosophy of the self in mind, but such words can conjure up a familiar image. A person is composed, in this image, of a number of selves a 'real', 'true' or 'inner' self, plus other 'false', 'illusory' or 'superficial' selves which can and often do silt over the first one. A person is self-estranged or inauthentic when his life accords with the dictates of one of these 'false' selves, instead of the 'true' one which has yet to be excavated.

One might also refer to this view as the 'Californian' one. To judge from the success of various gurus and cults which trade in this imagery, it is one for which the inhabitants of that state appear to have a peculiar predilection. Until recently, at least, slogans like 'Get into yourself’ or 'Be your real self’ were the currency of those on the journey to 'self-discovery'.

This image of the 'true', 'inner' self from which a person can become estranged has, unfortunately, been associated in the popular imagination with existentialism. No doubt the 'jargon of authenticity', as Adorno called it, which accompanied the image did belong to the vernacular of those blackclad, café existentialists from whom Simone de Beauvoir was so keen to dissociate herself and Sartre. But did not Nietzsche write, 'Be yourself: you are not at all what you now do, think or desire'? He did, but this seemingly Californian pronouncement is immediately followed by the words, 'Your true nature lies, not concealed deep within you, but immeasurably high above you or at least above that which you usually take yourself to be.’ The true self, for Nietzsche, is not an inner self somehow occluded by a false, superficial one, but a self you should strive to become. The self-estranged person is not distanced from a self he actually possesses, but from a goal which he should be pursuing.»

David E. Cooper. Existentialism: A Reconstruction
—

«The 'sincere' [in Sartre's sense of the term] person believes he has a true, fixed essence, in accordance with which he must try to live. Such a person 'puts himself out of reach: it is an escape'. That 'self- recovery' of his being, in need of which the self-estranged person stands, is in fact 'corrupted' by the 'sincere' attitude. For one thing, the 'sincere' man takes it that, deep down, he has a nature or character which determines in advance how he should be. This misunderstanding of his existence as a human being is compounded by dissociating himself, his 'real' self, from his 'external' behaviour. Since a person is nothing else but the sum of his actions, this dissociation is a form of bad faith, an attempt to escape judgement for what one does. Sartre's point here recalls Nietzsche's derision of the manner in which the 'botched and the bungled' bolster their self-esteem by pretending that their actions are no reflection of what, au fond, they are really like.»

Tomás Sánchez. Light of a Stormy Afternoon (1990)

David E. Cooper. Existentialism: A Reconstruction
—

«The source of such quintessentially human experiences is what Sartre calls 'the Look' (le regard). It is this which 'has revealed to us the indubitable existence of the Other for whom we are'. He illustrates 'the Look' with his usual dramatic flair. I am kneeling by a door, peeping through a keyhole: 'But all of a sudden I hear footsteps in the hall. Someone is looking at me... I am suddenly affected in my being...and essential modifications appear in my structure.' The crucial modification is that 'I now exist as myself,' for I have been made into 'an object for the Other'. 'The Look' at once reifies and individuates me. 'Behold now I am somebody.’

Sartre's example can mislead if it suggests that I only become aware of others and of myself in embarrassing and unedifying situations. (Though it might be a truth of child psychology that the child first becomes fully aware of its distinct existence through the disapproving stares of its parents.) 'The Look' is at work whenever I am made aware of myself as an object for the attention of others: creatures who can 'transfix' me in the way I 'transfix' objects about me.

Becoming apprised of 'the Look' is, for Sartre, only the beginning of one's sense of distinctive selfhood. This sense, once born, becomes 'reinforced' in roughly the ways described by Hegel in his famous dialectic of the master/slave relationship. The rough idea is that being subject to 'the Look' is a disturbing experience because, being a free, spontaneous For-itself, I cannot be the mere object — the squatting voyeur at the keyhole to which 'the Look' threatens to reduce me. Hence, by way of self-defence, I engage in 'a refusal of the Other'; and in the ensuing battle, during which I reaffirm my subjectivity against the other, 'I... obtain an explicit self-consciousness [through] a negation of the Other.’ This is the key to Sartre's unromantic account of sexual relationships as an almost Hobbesian 'war of everyman against everyman', in which each partner struggles to retain the sense of freedom threatened by 'the Look' or the embrace of the other one.»

David E. Cooper. Existentialism: A Reconstruction
—

«The central proposition of existential phenomenology is that we exist in a 'human world' whose contents are articulated in terms of the significance they have through the intentional projects in which we engage. Our relation to this world is not that of substances causally interacting with others, but what Heidegger calls 'care'. This is a relation to things in so far as they matter to us for the 'issue' that each of us is to himself. This central proposition serves as a premise for freedom in two related ways. Because the 'human world' is constituted by situations, 'signs', négatités and other intentional items, it cannot be an outside agency causally dictating our attitudes and actions. I am not free, as the Stoic would have it, because I am an inner citadel protected against outside incursion by impregnable walls. Rather, as Merleau-Ponty puts it, 'nothing determines me from the outside... because I am from the start outside myself and open to the world.' This is the doctrine of intentionality, as revised by the Existentialist. The 'human world' is not 'outside' us nor, of course, 'inside us', if by that is meant that the 'external world' is really a projection of the imagination. The mode in which I am 'there', outside in the world, is intentional and not natural, as with a bird in its habitat. My situation is not an environment with which I interact. It is, in Ortega's metaphor, something I carry like the vagabond his bundle. The vagabond cannot survive or begin his journey without a bundle: but how he carries it, and where to, are his responsibility.»

David E. Cooper. Existentialism: A Reconstruction

Есть большая разница между философскими книгами и книгами *о философии*. Философскую книгу бесполезно “читать”, она не для этого нужна. Нужна она для того, чтобы присоединиться к автору и суметь проследовать за мыслью — т.е. заниматься философией — что совсем непросто, требует навыка и подготовки. Книги *о философии* можно просто читать, но они бывают разные. Есть книги, которые совсем не понимают этой разницы между философским текстом и рассказом *о философии*, и делают вид, что это одно и то же. И написана там совсем уж какая-то ерунда: автор исходную мысль совсем не уловил, остались в лучшем случае только смутные ее следы. Есть другие, там пересказ вроде и похож на мысль, но это больше чучело: мысль замерла и никуда больше не идет. А есть еще жанр, рассказывать про философов по фамилиям, пересказывать кто что говорил, выглядит это как экскурсия в зоопарк диковинных зверей и загадочных речей. С таблчиками: “Сартр”, пожалуйста, вот “Хайдеггер”, “Морис Мерло-Понти”, вслух не думать, руками не трогать.

Вот книга Купера это рассказ о философии, но рассказ хороший, даже и в мысли поучаствовать можно, хоть и косвенно. Экзистенциализм течение в философии когда-то модное, популярное, выплеснувшееся в более широкую культуру. И темы какие волнующие, ничего себе!: Angst, смерть, абсурд, свобода! Экзистенциалистские тексты при этом сложные, поэтому о том, что там написано сказано много, но часто совсем бестолково. Купер, вместо того, чтобы пересказывать философов по фамилиям, реконструирует (“a reconstruction”, написано в подзаголовке книги) темы, вопросы, повторяющиеся мотивы “экзистенциалистов”, по которым вообще можно объединить в одно течение таких разных авторов как Сартр, Хайдеггер, Бубер, Ясперс и тд. Понравилось как сформулирована объединяющая, основная тема зистенциальной философии — о(т)странение , и ее задача — преодоление отстранения. А в начальной главе разобраны, мне кажется, все основные варианты “околомыслия” (Мамардашвили) о самом течении, и о темах, о которых экзистенциальное течение волнуется.

Помимо философов, которых Купер упоминает, и к которым обращается, в книге присутствует некто Экзистенциалист, и это не просто собирательный образ из разных авторов, но персонаж, который призван быть воплощением экзистенциалистской мудрости вообще. И иногда на поднимаемые вопросы приводятся не только слова конкретных авторов, которые спорят друг с другом, но и что бы на это сказал Экзистенциалист. И живая мысль в этом есть, или хотя бы ее хвост.

(В этот раз в силу обстоятельств проскочил слишком быстро, недостаточно вдумчиво, буду перечитывать)

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#id_books

(fish getting an MRI scan)

Giovanni Stanghellini, René Rosfort. Emotions and Personhood
—

[They are talking about the difference between rational, a-rational and irrational behaviour, inspired by Ronald de Sousa’s take on rationality:

1. in *categorical* sense 1.1) rational (behavior) contrasts with 1.2) a-rational

2. in *normative* sense 2.1) rational contrasts with 2.2) irrational

2.1. two kinds of normatively rational:
2.1a. thin (skeletal) — functioning of the logical structures of our cognitive abilities
2.1b. thick (fleshy) — an embodied, personalised, and context-sensitive kind of rationality, where ‘rational’ behaviour cannot be distinguished from ‘irrational’ behaviour merely by means of what is logical and what is not.]

The difference between ‘a-rational’ and ‘rational’ can be illustrated with two variations over one story. Say that one late afternoon my wife and I decide that we want to make an omelette. Unfortunately we are out of eggs, so my wife offers to cook the omelette, if I go out to buy the eggs. Half an hour later, I return abashed with an empty egg pack. When she asks why the pack is empty, I tell her one of the two following stories.

[1.2) a-rational]
On my way home from the grocery store, a massive branch of the old chestnut tree at the corner of our street broke off and tumbled down over my head. I managed to jump away from under the falling branch, but the egg pack slipped from my hand, and all the eggs broke when the pack hit the ground. This is one story.

[1.1) categorically rational or 1.2) irrational?]
The other version goes like this. When I turned the corner from the grocery store, I caught sight of my former boss. Ever since the bastard first humiliated me in front of everybody and then fired me eight months ago, I have nursed an intense grudge against him, so when I saw him on the other side of the street I could not control myself. I became so enraged that I started to throw the eggs at him.

Now, it is glaringly obvious that my wife will react very differently to my two stories.

[1.2) a-rational]
In the first case, she will, or so at least I hope, be relieved that I am not hurt and consider the business of the broken eggs a freak incident which could have ended tragically, but fortunately turned out well. In fact, she might even be impressed and commend me on my agile and attentive reactions. The fact that the eggs are broken is due to a series of events which were out of my control and had nothing to do with rationality whatsoever. On the contrary, it can only be ascribed to an a-rational, causal chain of chance and necessity—to use Jacques Monod’s poignant expression (1970).

[1.1) categorically rational and 2.1a) normatively rational, of a “thin” kind, or 2.2) irrational?]
It goes without saying that the reaction of my wife will be quite different when I tell her the second version. I can be pretty sure that she will not be impressed or commend my behaviour. Being the level-headed person she is, she will probably sigh and tell me that it was an irrational or stupid thing to do, since it will not bring about any good. It will certainly not give me my job back, help me regain my self-respect or convince my previous boss of anything save that it was a good decision to get rid of me in the first place. If I try to argue that in spite of this, it made me feel good, my wife can point to the obvious fact that I cannot go around doing things just because they make me feel good. All kinds of behaviour might feel good without therefore being rational. At this point, it seems difficult, if not impossible, for me to reply to her argument. I could try to blame her for her cold-hearted lack of empathy and her obnoxiously bourgeois reasonableness in a circumstance where all I need is to be cuddled and understood. But no matter what I say to justify my behaviour or to express my disappointment at her, in my eyes, insensitive rational thinking, I cannot argue against the irrational nature of my action.

[…] I said that my wife was right to deem my throwing the eggs at my boss irrational. If we view my behaviour from the standpoint of the thin notion of rationality, though, my behaviour was perfectly rational. I felt a desire to get back at my mean boss, and I found myself holding a pack of eggs which I believed was perfectly suitable for that purpose, so it was indeed rational to break the eggs for that purpose. Nevertheless, my wife can give several reasons why it was an irrational thing to do: it is an inconsiderate waste of perfectly good eggs, it makes me look like an idiot, it is immature and inappropriate for a man of my age, it is not a normal way of behaving, it is not a reasonable way to deal with problems, and physical aggravation in whatever form is simply wrong. What is important to notice here is that when my wife judges my behaviour irrational she needs to scaffold her use of rationality with several densely normative adjectives such as ‘inconsiderate’, ‘immature’, ‘inappropriate’, ‘normal’, ‘reasonable’, and the explicitly ethical one ‘wrong’.