Yes, a model is evident here. We use flying objects as a model of the phenomena exhibited by the emitter and screen. Ken will want to restate that we use our model of flying objects as the model, but the point is that we study flying objects, and become proficient in working with them, and then treat aspects of the experiment in many of the same ways. Referring to all that simply as “our model of flying objects” is fine.

As a relevant aside, the discussion between Ken and I centers on whether there is a distinct entity, mental or otherwise, that would constitute “our model of flying objects.” Gilbert Ryle says such thinking is a category mistake. He draws an analogy to a university to illustrate:

Wittgenstein might say here that “university” has a different use than college, library, museum, playing field, etc. Ken, I take it, would feel that if we speak of a university, there must be a special entity that serves as the referent of the term. He locates that entity in the mind. My position, in effect, is that there can be no special form of a building that is not the colleges, library, museum, etc. but somehow is them. Words don't always have to refer to objects, physical or otherwise. Rather, the meaning of words are found in their use. We sometimes talk of the “university” as if it were a distinct building like “the Bodleian Library,” but not always. The pattern of use of “university” is different from the use of “library.”

To relate all that back to the current discussion, much of my arguments surrounding the word “model” are similar to Ryle's discussion of the word “university.” If there is no distinct building that is the university or no distinct entity that is the model, there is nothing that “moves closer to reality” or “corresponds” or not to reality. Many philosophic issues involving “truth” dissolve once we note the metaphorical language. You asked me what the advantage of my position is, dissolving philosophical non-problems is one of them.

Getting back to the experiment, the experiment is, of course, real, as are flying objects. You seem to feel angst over not having a mechanical-type of explanation for what happens between the emitter and the screen. Another advantage of my view is that it accounts for science's success and not just its failures. (I am often one of the very few in a philosophic discussion praising our cognitive achievements while others worry that everything could be an illusion or a dream.) Let's not overlook the achievement here: People discover that they can treat emitters and phosphor screens in many of the same ways they treat flying objects. Students study flying objects and electrical equipment and the next thing you know, one young Joe Durnavich is watching Batman and Hogan's Heroes episodes at home. Suddenly, the world is a better place. Later, other talented and hard working folks come along and achieve more success by treating emitters and screens not as if there were flying objects, but as if dice were being rolled. Now a much older Joe Durnavich can watch Hogan's Heroes reruns on his DVD player and large screen rear projection TV. The world is an even better place.

Science must be set in the larger context of human achievement. When quantum mechanics replaced classical techniques, science did not get access to some reality that was previously inaccessible. The experiment was always real and accessible. The pattern of life and the resulting technology surrounding the experiment changed. We could do more than we could before.

Nobody really talks like that. A group of radio communications engineers may speak of electrical fields not to represent some underlying inaccessible reality, but to reconfigure their hardware to achieve an extra db of signal strength out of the antenna. To say that “field” must refer or represent something else is to make the category mistake described earlier in this post. Language is far more sophisticated than we may at first suppose. Words are tools that we use to achieve some end. We use a hammer to construct a building (among other tasks), but not to represent a nail. Words like “field,” “particle,” or “electron” have a use, but the use does not have to be, say, for an electron to refer to an ultra-tiny billiard-ball-like object or some other unimaginable reality. If you must find a referent of electron to put your mind at ease, look at the things and the situations people learn about electrons from in the first place. There is no one thing you can put your finger on that is the “electron,” but after training in those circumstances, people go on to use the word “electron” to their, and our, benefit.

Notice that everything is real and accessible here. Science takes what is accessible, what is within reach, and shows us how to make the best use of it. Just because a driver may not understand the “underlying mechanism” of his car's engine does not make his driving somehow unreal nor does it mean he does not drive anywhere. It means that he cannot do some things that people who understand engines can. He could not repair the engine if it broke down.

If reality was really inaccessible, then it could not affect the outcome of what we think or do. We need to keep reality around so that being wrong matters, that is, so that it has real consequences.

Yes, it can serve that illustrative purpose, but note that in real life, you probably never speak of “inaccessible mind independent reality.” Philosophers may talk like that, but us normal people say, “That's wrong. Let me show you how to do it.” We use the terms “right” and “wrong” as feedback to fine tune the manner in which we do things.

I try to describe what actually occurs in the situations mentioned. I point out the intricate and complex ways we manage those situations. I point out the strategies we use such as drawing analogies and speaking metaphorically. The advantage is that I can be epistemologically optimistic. I can begin to understand why science works, not just why it fails. I can continue to talk and think like a normal person once we step away from this philosophic discussion. I don't have to tell people that “reality is inaccessible” or “you can never understand toys, but only your model of toys.” If somebody gets a train set working, I can simply congratulate them for finding the working wiring and track configuration.

Or, should we say that it points to the fact that we are intricately bound to reality. We are equally real as an emitter/screen experiment. As our physics progresses, we don't access a part of the experiment we couldn't access before. We change our lives around the experiment (although we likely change the experiment as well). We treat it differently, we create new technologies, we solve problems that we couldn't solve before.

I think saying reality is inaccessible has the opposite effect of what is intended. We do want to say that we could be wrong, but for that to have any effect, being wrong has to matter. If reality was out of reach, then being wrong wouldn't matter. It could swing at us without ever landing a punch.

The purpose of drawing an analogy to a model and an inaccessible reality behind it is not so much to say something about our access to reality, but to keep us alert for signs we are acting contrary to our goals, to caution against overconfidence, and to acknowledge the frontiers that are yet to be explored.