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6 Patterns, Types and Concepts

So the common notion of concept in philosophy and linguistics is not correct. In this and the next chapter I construct a different meaning, starting from observed patterns that lead to the forming of the elemental units in the mind that I call 'types'.

6.1 The inside and outside worlds

The previous chapter described the characteristics of the term 'concept' as used in philosophy: it is static, directly connected with both a language element and an object in reality, and it generally contains subclasses. Because of the connection with language elements, for example concepts like TREE, CHAIR or ELIZA, they are called lexical concepts. The connection that is made between a concept and a thing in reality stems from the realistic world view but, as argued, is incorrect because many concepts do not refer to concrete matters in reality. Also the notions that concepts are static, always linked to language elements and (can) contain subclasses turn out to be incorrect on closer inspection.
In this and the coming chapters I offer a description of what must be understood by a concept by first applying systematics to my subjective experiences, after which I develop the notions of patterns and types with the help of which the concept of concept then can be defined. The purpose of this exercise is to provide an as accurate as possible interpretation of the term concept, solely based on introspection. It is explicitly not intended as a model for actual brain processes, developing models therefor is a task for psychological and physiological brain research. It is a pure philosophical model.

The concepts thus originate from introspection, in which I distinguish between what I will call my inner world and the outside world. By my inner world I mean the whole of experiences, feelings and emotions, thoughts and fantasies I constantly experience while I'm conscious. When sleeping, also dreams come to mind.
As the outside world, I consider the world around me which I experience exclusively through my senses. Strictly speaking, the outside world is also a form of my inner world, However, I experience the difference between these two worlds so clearly that I use the term 'outer world'. That outside world explicitly doesn't consist only of material objects such as trees, mountains, houses or hammers, but also, for example, of your friendly smile or pranks you play. The outside world is not just experienced by me, the behaviour and reactions of people around me make it clear that they also experience this outside world more or less accordingly. My inner world, on the other hand, exists exclusively for myself, what I experience from it I can only get to know through introspection.
One could say that one directly experiences the events of the inner world without further interpretation, in contrast to experiencing the outside world, for which at least a interpretation is necessary and often a learning process too.

Although inside and outside can be separated in principle, they often touch each other. For example, if my two hands grab each other before my eyes, I have several experiences at the same time. I feel the touch in both my hands, an experience from my inner world and at the same time I see that my hands touch each other, an experience from the outside world. At the same time it is possible that my hands become warmer by touching, which I also experience as coming from the inner world. Although the two kinds of experience can be related, I usually distinguish without difficulty the experiences that reach me through the senses - in this case the sight and the touch - and the feeling of warmth in my hand that comes 'from within'.

The question arises whether concepts should be viewed from the outside world, from the inner world or from both at the same time. Both in philosophy and linguistics, as we saw in the semiotic triangle, human concepts, i.e. elements of the inner world are theoretically connected to objects in the outside world. But the natural and social sciences use those human concepts only to establish relationships between the different phenomena in the outside world. They say nothing about the concepts themselves and cannot say anything thereabout. In psychology both worlds come together, but attempts to describe human behaviour entirely from the outside world, such as behaviourism, have been shipwrecked. And modern neuroscientists mapping brain activities using fMRI scans can certainly find relationships between thoughts and experiences on the one hand and brain activities on the other, but they have not succeeded and will never succeed in capturing the experiences themselves externally. The separation between the inner and outer world is fundamental and insoluble.

Concepts only exist in the inner world and can therefore essentially be considered exclusively from that inner world, from everyone's own, individual and subjective experiences. This leads to a subjective and relative understanding, which is objectionable to the realists among us, but does not pose any problem in the further elaboration.

6.2 We see what is not there

During normal, conscious life, man is constantly confronted with a stream of sensory experiences. Through the eyes a huge amount of visual experiences can be obtained, and also the hearing, the touch, the taste and the smell give the person a permanent flow of impressions. In parentheses, modern science teaches this classical division of the senses is outdated and the sensory system more complex. However in this context it is of no importance, here it's just about the huge streams of impressions coming from the outside world.

The same phenomena can be formulated differently, namely that all day long I see, hear, feel, taste and smell all sorts of things. However, that's an approach from my inner world. A physicist focuses on an approach from the outside world, knowing that our eye is constantly struck by a multitude of light rays, our ear by air vibrations and so on. For the poet, on the other hand, only the inner world counts, he sees images, hears sounds, smells the salty air of the sea.

Superficially, both approaches show the same phenomena, expressed in other ways. However, the fundamental difference show up clearly when making a comparison with a computer. Suppose the computer is connected to a camera that captures an image and you ask the computer what it 'sees'. The answer is simple: the computer doesn't see anything. The camera consists of a rectangle with a large number of photosensitive cells that give off some electricity when struck by a beam of light. Therefore the computer receives nothing but a large number of electrical voltages which it somehow stores in its memory. If these signals are sent to a monitor, the computer has an easy job. It only has to make sure that those electrical voltages go to the corresponding cells of the screen where the same image appears as what was originally visible in front of the camera. People who look at that screen do not, as one might expect, see a flat plate with illuminated dots, but an image as they are used to in real life. Transferring images is a relatively easy task for a computer, although in practice a lot of technology is involved. In this situation the computer only has to function as a hatch to let pass the original image of the camera, the machine itself does not 'know' what is finally shown on the screen. Seeing is a concept from the inner world and as far as we know computers have no inner world.

Man really do see things. In computer programs for Artificial Intelligence the task of the computer is more than just passing on information. The question then arises whether the computer, if it stores an image of a camera in its memory as a long series of electrical voltages, also picks up the image of a tree or a car or a dog. In order to answer such a question, you have to realize that for image recognition principally two complex programs have to be carried out. Firstly, a pattern or shape has to be found in the large amount of voltages. In itself it is a homogeneous slurry of data, but for example by looking at differences in brightness between two adjacent points, the computer can see forms. Then follows the second step: with which image does the shape found correspond? It can only decide if it can compare that form with a number of pre-programmed or learned forms.
Described here is the classical computer programming. Nowadays computers and programs are being developed that imitate neural networks, which take both steps at once and make the computer self-learning. But the essence remains: from the information patterns that are offered, the patterns must be constructed and these patterns have to be compared with known patterns.

The same applies to humans. When I look at a forest I see trees in all kinds of forms. But the light rays that reach my eye do not contain the information that they come from a forest, they form an as chaotic pattern as that which a television camera receives. The combination of my eye, the optic nerve and my brain will have to apply a complex operation if I want to see trees and a forest. Operations that I did not master as a baby but had to learn through a huge number of experiences and communications with other people. This in contrast to experiences from the inner world as hunger, thirst and pain that every baby feels right after birth.

All my experiences, including the observations of objects and events in the outside world, take place in my inner world. So the concepts I own are elements of my inner world. That is why, even when it relates to matters in the outside world, I have to develop the notion concept from experiences in the inner world. With that the question arises whether I have concrete indications that my eye and brain work in the same way as the artificial-intelligent computer when recognizing patterns.

NijntjeBrunaLet's look at the drawing alongside in which many people easily will see a rabbit's head. It is a drawing by Dick Bruna who has become known around the world with his minimalistic drawings of the bunny 'Miffy'.

Miffy provides confirmation that complex operations are required for seeing things. No matter you twist it, here is no question of a rabbit. The screen you look at contains a quantity of screen pixels that appear black because they do not light up and other that light up and therefore appear white. Or, if the image is printed on paper, you see black ink spots on white paper in the form of a line and two dots. Just like me, nobody - in his inner world - sees in the first instance what it really is in the outside world: only black lines and dots. By contrast, we see in our inner world a rabbit head that is not there at all. MagrittePipeThis means that my mind creates a shape just from illuminated screen pixels or from the ink spots on paper, which we interpret as a line and dots, and brings it in accordance with a familiar shape: a rabbit's head. It goes completely unnoticed, I do not have to do anything, but it's clear that my mind in one way or another initiates a transformation process. The painter René Magritte also used this unconscious behaviour of man: this is not a pipe, no, this is paint on a canvas.

This phenomenon is very common. I see a book on the table. For the physicist this means that light rays from the book reach my eye which, by the lens of my eye, are formed to an image on my retina. But I do not see any light rays at all, I just see a book. If I focus on it, I also see the colour of the cover or the image on it, I see if it is thick or thin, bound or glued and perhaps the font of the title. However in practice I often do not focus my attention on all kinds of visual aspects and I only become aware of the total impression: I see a book. This means that a number of sensory experiences reach my senses that in one way or another are shaped by my mind into a kind of total impression of something that I call a book. Which is nothing but my concept 'book'.

Helse blik melkweg

The newspaper provides a nice illustration of this functioning of the human mind [1]:

This mysterious scene, which wouldn't be out of place as a picture at Dante's inferno, is more than 25,000 light-years away from us. It is a detailed 'photo' of the center of our Milky Way Galaxy. It is not light that is recorded here, but radio radiation.
From the jumble of structures can easily be seen this environment is anything but serene.
Not everything in the picture can be appropriately explanated. Certainly the bright spot in the middle is hiding a special object: Sagittarius A *. It could be called the gate to hell: a colossal black hole with more than 4 million times as much mass as our sun.
The smaller bright spots on the left and right of it are large clouds of gas and dust, in which new stars are formed. Further to the left the swollen remnants of supernovas - exploded stars.
The 'radiofoto' was made with the recently deployed MeerKAT radio telescope in South Africa. This instrument with 64 separate radio dishes is a precursor to the future Square Kilometer Array (SKA), a large network of radio telescopes that will be installed in South Africa and Australia.

It is clear the information here has not come in the form of a photo. The telescope only delivers enormous series of numbers that have to be interpreted. Such a interpretation is a very hard for people, but is suddenly much easier if a computer program converts the information into a quasi photo. We then even 'recognize' things we have never seen before, such as 'swollen remains of supernovas'. And we not only see the patterns much easier, even our emotional world is directly addressed: we have a glimpse into Dante's hell.

In order to be able to describe the idea of 'concept' some intermediate steps are needed which lead from 'experiences' to 'patterns' and via 'types' to the notion of 'concepts'.

6.3 Different kinds of experiences

The flow of impressions my senses provide me I call experiences. Many experiences are not conscious, which, for example, I notice when I walk into a familiar room, sit in a chair and turn on the television. I am then focused on the television program that I want to see, so that most impressions of the room largely passes unnoticed. Yet those impressions must have reached me, otherwise I would not have been able to walk to the chair and take the TV remote control. I must conclude that a whole stream of impressions has been absorbed by me unconsciously. It becomes even clearer when I walk into the same familiar room one day and a large painting has appeared on the wall. While I never consciously looked at that wall, I now see the painting on the wall. The sudden change attracts my attention, so that what till now was experienced unconsciously, suddenly becomes conscious. Therefore the conclusion must be that, in addition to conscious experiences, many unconscious experiences also occur.

Experiences as the seeing of a book come from the outside world, everything I see I experience as coming from outside myself. On the other hand my inner world also produces impressions: feelings such as pain or well-being, emotions, thoughts, fantasies, dreams, and ideas. Both types can be experienced both consciously and unconsciously.
So I now distinguish four types of experiences. In scheme:
Schema bewust onbewust Engels

6.4 Patterns

Back to the example of the book I see lying on the table. At the moment I see it I'm struck by a multitude of impressions, but the only thing I see is the book, at least that is where my attention is drawn to. Or, from the multitude of impressions that reach me, my mind creates an experience of something, i.e. the book. As indicated, this must have been caused by an activity of my mind that essentially consists of two parts: firstly the formation of a pattern from the received experiences and secondly the recognition of that pattern. From introspection I cannot tell how this works, it could be one integrated process, but that is not important for this analysis.

What I can conclude is that my mind makes a selection from all the experiences that reach me and from the multitude experiences constructs something which in itself is no part of those experiences. In the example of the book it concerns only visual experiences, one could imagine that the mind only combines experiences which show a natural coherence. But when I walk in the street and a fire truck with loud siren comes by, I perceive the whole ensemble of experiences as one single event. I can hear a siren from afar, at some point I also see a bright red coloured car, the moment it drives past the sound of the siren becomes suddenly lower, I see it driving away and then hear the dying sound of the siren. This whole ensemble of experiences gives me the impression: a fire engine passes by. Of course during that whole scene I received a lot more experiences, which have apparently been ignored by my mind, at least consciously. During the passing of the fire truck, I did not notice the street with the buildings, the people and the other vehicles.

So the mind selects certain elements from everything which is experienced and connects them to each other, forming the experience of an image, a sound or an entire event. If, on seeing the book, one could still think that the received impressions belonged to each other in a sort of natural way, in the scene with the fire truck the image of the passing car is combined with the sound of the siren. Those are constructions from at the one hand images and at the other sounds that reach me, which in themselves have nothing in common. What arises in this way and what I experience as a coherent whole, I call a pattern. So a book that I see, but also a book falling on the ground or a fire engine that passes by, is a pattern.

Summarizing: my mind constantly receives a multitude of experiences and forms patterns that may or may not penetrate into my consciousness. The occurrance of unconscious patterns follows from my daily walk into a room without being aware of what the wall looks like, until I notice a large painting one day. It appears my mind has always perceived the wall as a pattern without my being aware of it. As soon as the familiar appearance changed however, I became aware of the pattern of the wall with the painting.

6.5 Types

Today I can remember I yesterday saw a fire engine pass by. The pattern formed in my mind yesterday can pretty much be recalled by my mind today. This happens despite the fact that the sensory impressions that struck me yesterday, from which the pattern of the passing fire truck was formed, are now missing. Currently no fire truck is in my neighbourhood, nor are the appurtenant sensory experiences; the memory of it apparently just emerges from my own mind.

Yet, in addition to the event of the passing car, it's possible to remember all sorts of details that apparently also have caught my eye. The colour of the car, the firefighters who sat on it, the cyclist who drove aside just before the car, and so on. All those patterns must have been selected by my mind and been formed from the stream of experiences received. This means that I can observe more than one pattern within one span of time while a pattern can contain a number of sub-patterns. In principle, each of those patterns can be recalled later. At the same time, I don't remember much of what must have happened during the time the fire truck was driving past. How did the street look like? Which stores were there? How many people did see the fire truck too and where did they stand or walk? My mind could have formed these patterns from the experience of the event, but apparently it did not happen consciously, I do not remember anything of it. Apparently during an experience I become aware of a limited number of patterns and only those patterns can be remembered later. Possibly my mind unconsciously forms a lot more patterns, but I do not consciously experience them nor can I remember them later.

Conscious patterns are apparently stored in my mind causing I can remember them later. However, there is more to say about it. The pattern of a passing fire truck is not new to me, at the moment the pattern appears it is automatically recognized by me. This means my mind must contain something which manifests itself when the pattern occurs to me. That 'something' can only exist in my mind if it has been formed by previous experiences, either from our own perception or from indirect perception, such as stories, film or television images. In principle this 'something' could be inherited, but what is most remembered in daily life seems to arise from previous experiences. In other words, something in the mind is usually caused by previous confrontations with the same or similar patterns. From this I can conclude that my mind not only stores concrete, once-experienced patterns, but also forms a kind of prototypes in which those concrete, once-experienced patterns can no longer be distinguished separately. When I imagine a book I see sort of a image of a book in front of me, stripped of the exact shape and title, without being able to remember the countless times that I experienced the concrete pattern of a book in my life. Rationaly I can presuppose there must have been a lot of confrontations with the concept 'book' in my life, but, with a relative small number of exceptions, I don't have memories of that.

An experienced pattern can and will often consist of different impressions. Let us take again the simple case of the fire truck with its siren. Suppose in my life I only experienced fire trucks using their sirens. That event I call t pattern B, a pattern I have experienced many times in my live. Maybe I remember the last time I experienced B, included image and sound. B is apparently entirely stored in my mind. But if one day I see a stationary fire truck, I immediately recognize it as a fire engine, even though it doesn't make any noise. Apparently a pattern is stored in two different ways. Firstly, the complete specific pattern, the event that I can remember. But in addition, the image of the fire truck is apparently stored in such a way that, as soon as I see a certain image, I immediately recognize a fire truck. The same applies to the sound of the siren, which I recognize without remembering me all times I heard that sound. Apparently the experience of the pattern has, in parallel to the pattern as a whole, also created something in my mind which is not the pattern itself, but a component of it, corresponding to a sensory experience. Although I cannot directly experience that 'something' in my mind, I give it a name here: I call it a type. A type is thus a kind of basic form of a sensory aspect, a component of similar patterns previously experienced in my life, stripped of all kinds of accidental details and qualities that are not general part of all those experienced patterns.

Forming types by the mind is an essential feature. After all, if the mind would only store incidental, total experiences of concrete events which can be remembered as such, pattern recognition would be very difficult or even impossible. In the example of the fire engine, I would only be able to recognize it if the experience of the complete pattern corresponds with the previously experienced patterns, in other words from previous experiences with passing fire engines. In reality, however, I recognize a lot more. If the car is stationary, if I only see it from behind, if I see a simple drawing of it, if I do not hear a siren sound. And also when I see a new type of fire truck for the first time in my life, I immediately recognize a fire truck. Apparently, the concrete experience of a pattern in my mind stores a number of elementary aspects that allow me to recognize a related pattern, although it is not equal to the previously experienced patterns. If that were not the case, almost every pattern would be new to me and every orientation in life virtually impossible.

By the way, the phenomenon I don't recognize an experienced pattern does occur, for example when I look at a preparation through a microscope as an amateur. I then see all sorts of patterns I don't recognize, I actually do not see anything like lines, spots and moving shapes, which don't evoke any recognition at all. Another example is the situation I hear sounds that I cannot identify in any way.

So it is not self-evident that when my mind constructs the pattern of a book from sensory experiences, I really see a book in it. This is only possible because during my life in my mind types have formed through which I can recognize a book as such. And from what I experience on a daily basis, I can conclude that my mind contains an untold number of types, built up from the immeasurable numbers of experiences that have reached me from conception.

I called the type a kind of basic form. If we consider the classic term 'book', it concerns a - large - number of patterns I have experienced in the past. They each contain a number of sub-patterns, for example a pile of glued together sheets of paper with printing ink in the form of letters and pictures between a front and back cover. In addition to visual impressions the whole is formed by tactile experiences, because I also frequently had a book in my hands, turned pages and the like. I submitted that different types are formed in the mind for, amongst other, visual and tactile experiences. boektekeningBecause I have introduced a type as a theoretical concept which cannot be visualized through introspection, the distinction is theoretical. Yet I do have indirect indications for the existence of types in my mind. If I see the image on the left, it is immediately clear to me it represents a bound book. The fact I immediately recognize that visual form indicates that elements of it are stored in my mind which correspond sufficiently to the pattern my mind constructs out of this form.

Brandweer tekeningThe drawing of a fire engine next here provides immediate recognition too. And I don't just see a fire engine, different components can be recognized too: the headlight, the wheels, the ladder, the flashing light, the fire hose from which a drop of water leaks and a cloud above it. Evidently my mind stores all those elements in a basic form in a way that I'm able to recognize both the total and the parts. And if I only hear the sound of a siren, I indeed recognize it as a siren, but I do not know what kind of car it belongs to: a fire, police or ambulance car. Although from introspection I cannot determine types exactly consist of, it seems clear they broadly correspond to experiences from different senses. What seems not only to be confirmed by the fact that, when I think of a concept like 'book', I not only can easily see a book for me, I can also imagine me leafing through a book, or - because I belong to the people who always smell a new book first - smell a book. These are more or less isolated recognizable experiences. I called them components of experienced patterns.

A type is thus formed by the experiencing of patterns in the past. However, I defined the notion 'experiences' very broad. In the diagram above I distinguished four types of experiences, conscious and unconscious, from the inner world and from the outside world. Do all these experiences lead to the formation of types? The examples of the fire truck and the book were experiences from the outside world. But the inner world also provides me large amounts of experiences. Thoughts, fantasies, emotions, feelings like pain and so on. Especially when I am aware of it, I experience non-sensory patterns. Thoughts and feelings can arise and I usually recognize them easily. But also fantasies often contain familiar elements and specific types of pain such as headaches, abdominal pain, toothache or intestinal cramps I recognize immediately. So I have good grounds to assume that types can be formed from both sensory experiences from outside and from non-sensory experiences from within.

In psychology it is known that people sometimes remember events that they could never have experienced. Such 'memories' may have arisen through stories or images of others, but also through own thoughts, fantasies or fears. This phenomenon reinforces the assumption types can originate not only from sensory but also from non-sensory experiences coming out of the inner world.

Then the question arises whether types can be formed from unconscious experiences too. I take the example again that I walk into a room and turn on the television. I am then consciously focused on television, the rest of the room I don't notice. Until the moment I walk into the room and something has changed. A big painting on the wall or a new chair I immediately notice. That means patterns occur to me which are new to me, i.e. do not fit in existing types. Apparently my mind fits the unconsciously experienced patterns in already existing types which remain unconscious as long as the experiences do fit in familiar types. However, as soon as a new pattern occurs in that otherwise familiar environment, my mind sends out a signal: the new pattern is consciously experienced. Thus, types can indeed function unconsciously. But can types also arise from purely unconscious experiences? The observation made here suggests that's not the case. After all, as soon as something new happened, I became aware of it. For the time being, I assume for the formation of new types conscious experience is necessary. Later, if the notion concept has been defined, I will come back to it.

6.6 Concepts

I'm now approaching the point I was directed at: the introduction of the notion concept, again from the example of the term 'book'. When I hear the sound /bʊk/ or read the word "book", the notion of "book" immediately comes to mind. But even if I see the drawing of a book, or a real book, or a picture of a book, or if I get a book in my hands blindfolded, the notion immediately comes up. I also think about the term 'book', but just as the siren sound is not specific to a certain type of car, reading is not an activity that specifically belongs to books, I can also read a newspaper or a letter.
I now conclude my notion of 'book' in my mind apparently is connected with a number of aspects which differ fundamentally from each other and which, in themselves, do not need to be specific to that concept. Aspects also I can recognize separately. In other words, the notion of 'book' in my mind is a composition of a number of separate types. I call such a notion a concept. A concept as I define it is therefore a connection in my mind of a number of different, independent types, created by the in the past experienced - partly - corresponding patterns.

bhagavad gitaLike types, apart from those that have been genetically passed on, are created by concretely experienced patterns in my past, concepts are also formed by experiences that I have gained over the course of my life. For me, a book is a quantity of printed pages, attached to each other with a cardboard cover around it. The concept 'book' then consists of different types such as sheet of paper, cover, printed text and pictures. Moreover the concept includes types of a different kind. Maybe I like books and I like reading them, in which case the concept may contain a type that is shaped by those positive experiences. Conversely, if I have to read a lot of books for my exam that I do not feel like, the reverse type, a dislike of reading books, may be part of my concept.

However, the term 'book' contains more types. The textbooks I had to work through during my study, the Bible, the Bhagavad Gita or the Koran, my bookcase, the library where I read my textbooks, all have produced patterns from which corresponding types have been formed. What matters here is the 'book aspect' of the textbooks, the Bible, the Bhagavad Gita or the Koran. Except for these the corresponding concepts contain more different types. For example, the concept of 'Bible' includes the types 'book' and 'God'. Conversely for believing Christians the concept of 'book' may contain the type 'Bible', but for many people probably not the type 'God'. In other words, if I often take up the Bible as a book, in my mind the type 'Bible' will be bound to my concept of 'book', in which case at the concept 'book' I will easily have an association with the Bible. But please note it is here just about the aspect that the Bible is a book, the content of the Bible is not part of the concept of 'book'. Conversely, if the Bible, plays no role in my life, my concept 'book' will not contain the type 'Bible', I'll have no associations with it.

A toddler already possesses the concept of 'book' and recognizes books directly, notwithstanding he does not yet master the language. Probably he associates it with picture books. As soon as he learns to talk, the type formed by the sound /bʊk/ is added to his concept 'book'. By reading aloud the book, it will also get substance as a story. After that, when he learns to read and write at school himself, the type formed from the written word "book" also will be added to his concept. Suppose until now he only got to know paperbacks. If one day he is been confronted with bound books, which look and feel different, his concept 'book' will change again, new types are added. From this example and the way in which the term concept is defined, follows that concepts change during life. Therefore in this definition a concept is not a static but a dynamic notion. Concepts arise, constantly change and, as we shall see, most will disappear after a short or longer period.

As stated before, the term 'concept', known in philosophy and linguistics, is objective, static, directly connected to both a linguistic element and an object in reality, and generally contains subclasses. The concept as defined here has none of these properties.
The definition comes from the inner world of a certain person and is built up from all his past experiences. If two people possess a corresponding concept, i.e. both own a concept which is tied to the same word, their individual experiences in the past can never be exactly the same, nor do the corresponding concepts. Therefore a concept is ultimately an individual property and thus a relative term. Since people live in communities in which they share similar experiences and because they communicate with each other, concepts of individuals within a community will correspond rather much in practice, but essentially there are always individual components too.
The concept as defined here is often tied to a word, a language element, but not to a thing or things in reality, in the outside world.

In the definition used here the usual idea of ​​subclasses is not usable. For example, the term 'chair' consists of a number of types connected in the mind. The same applies to the term 'chair leg'. The latter would be an underclass of the first if 'chair' contains all types that are part of the concept 'chair leg'. You can sit on a chair, which means 'sitability' is a type of the concept 'chair'. But you cannot sit on a chair leg, the concept 'chair leg' does not contain the type 'sitability'. Also the types which indicate the shape are different. Thus whereas both concepts may contain a number of similar types, each contains also types which are not part of the other, so one cannot be a subclass of the other.
By the way, the whole idea of ​​subclasses originates from the outside world: chairs have legs. The concept of CHAIR must therefore also contain the concept CHAIR LEG, in that line of thought. With this reasoning the conceptual analysis is nothing more than poor branch of empirical science, sub discipline 'science of chairs', without adding anything to it.


[1] NRC Handelsblad 20-7-2018