That's very interesting. As with all good things, Plato had much to say on the
subject, though the knowledge/belief distinction he made to justify the rule of
his philosopher-kings led him quite directly to the conclusion that the poets
had to be banished from his Republic. I think we've seen some pretty creative
uses of the idea of fiction, and the peculiar truth conditions of fictional
claims, in the twentieth century -- modal fictionalism, for example, or
metaethical fictionalism. 

Some crude thoughts on the subject: the make-believe-fear of (say) watching the
dinosaurs advance in Jurassic Park is preferable to actual fear for any number
of reasons (not _actually_ getting mauled by dinosaurs might be on the list).
And of course, fictionalism in ethics or possible world semantics is useful
precisely because it looses our dependence on indefensible forms of realism even
while letting us talk exactly as we've been talking. Blackburn's quasi-realism
about ethical utterances doesn't quite go for this model, but the need to avoid
queerness (and other) objections to realism are paramount among the
non-realist's concerns in formulating these alternatives. The question Leah
poses about the importance of the need to distinguish between fact and fiction
is obviously central to our notions of _sanity_, but if our psychological
engagement with fictions can be explained more illuminatingly, perhaps we have
stronger foundations from which to defend the attitudes (boo/hurrah, etc) that
come from them.

Cheers,
Nakul.

In message <8E74A176-5764-4AB5-BA27-8CBDF39B3628@aol.com> leah tijcup
<leahmwilkinson@aol.com> writes:
> To reply to this message or start a new topic please email: BUPS-DIS@bups.org
> -
>
> Dear all,
>
> What’s the difference between the way that we engage with stories  
> describing real events, and stories describing fictional events?
> Stories based on real events seem to generate a different  
> psychological reaction.
> We can know this from observing how film-makers tend to be eager to  
> tell us in the opening credits that the story they’re about to tell is  
> ‘based on true events’; even when most of the time, such films  
> represent a distortion of the facts. Or from how the autobiographies  
> of incurably bland celebrities usually top bestseller lists. Or from  
> how countless cases of people who’ve been condemned by society for  
> publishing ‘real-life’ accounts of their drug or alcohol addiction,  
> (you know- ‘Scraping the bottom of London’s barrel; one man’s battle  
> with crack’) that have turned out not to be true.
>
> It seems that people have a pressing need to separate truth from  
> fiction; and that they elevate ‘true stories’ to a higher status. But  
> there’s something puzzling thing about that.
> The most obvious difference between the two seems to be that stories  
> based on true events give us an assurance that the thing actually  
> happened.  But the majority of fictional tales pertaining to the  
> experiences had by people- when not fantastical in the sense of  
> involving entities that don’t exist (giants, winged horses, whatever)-  
> contain elements that probably have been experienced by someone,  
> somewhere.
>
> What does it matter if the experiences had by the protagonist of a  
> film or novel can actually be matched up to the experiences of  
> specific individuals? Why should this make such a significant  
> difference to how we engage with the story?
>
> The second part of the puzzle for me pertains to whether, assuming  
> that we do indeed react differently to fact and fiction, there’s a  
> difference in how we psychologically process them.
> Does the fact that people tend to react differently to ‘fact’ and  
> ‘fiction’ suggest the existence of two different corresponding types  
> of belief, for example? In ‘Fearing Fictions’, Walton argues that this  
> is the case; he coins the term ‘quasi-belief’ to account for what  
> happens when we watch, for example, a scary movie. We enter into a  
> state of ‘quasi-belief’, where we ‘make-believe’ that the event is  
> really occurring, but simultaneously know that it’s not. We don’t fear  
> fictional entities, we ‘quasi-fear’ them; being told a story triggers  
> entrance into ‘make-believe’ mode.
> Walton invokes the idea of quasi-belief to explain the difference in  
> behaviour between someone who is afraid because they believe they’re  
> being attacked by a dinosaur, and someone who is afraid because they  
> see a dinosaur coming towards them on the television screen.
> But I’m not sure how much philosophical work the term ‘quasi-belief’  
> really does in this context. It seems to me that Kendal simply states  
> that there’s a difference in how we engage with real and fictional  
> situations without really explaining why. (Check out the article as  
> food for thought- it’s on J-stor, and only 10 pages long: Fearing  
> Fictions Kendall L. Walton The Journal of Philosophy, Vol. 75, No. 1  
> (Jan., 1978), pp. 5-27 Published by: Journal of Philosophy, Inc.)
>
> So, I suppose the question I want to confront is why individuals place  
> such importance on distinguishing fact and fiction when it comes to  
> engaging with stories. The fact that we do is, I think, interesting.  
> Secondly, I want to ask what people think about, or whether people  
> think there is, a mental process that distinguishes the two. Is  
> Kendal’s account reasonable? Do we psychologically engage with fiction  
> in a specific way; and can this be described in terms of ‘believing’  
> in a different way? Any ideas? Anyone?
>
> Best wishes,
> Leah