The German title of the essay is “Wie ist es, eine Fledermaus zu sein?” Literally: “How is it to be a bat?”
And I’m suggesting that your argument from language is unconvincing. My default position is that it doesn’t matter that Nagel uses “like” here, because nobody really thinks he’s asking what other things are like “being a bat”. “What’s it like?” in everyday speech does invite a comparison of some sort, and that’s certainly relevant. But the constellation here is something we’d need to dive in deeper to make sense of. Your invokation of “like” and comparisons here alone doesn’t cut it. It feels like rhetoric to rationalise a pre-existing conclusion rather than problem solving.
And the problem is not ambiguity, since I’m reading “what it’s like” more like an idiom in this context (it’s not an idiom, but the usuage feels kind of idiomatic - I know I’m being vague).
I’m suggesting that incompatibilities in world views combined with a common stock of words can stabilise as predictable disagreement. One person’s pseudo-problem is another person’s deeply interesting topic.
So, for example, when I read:
I thought: “Yes, that’s another way to put it,” and it loses none of its intrigue. The wording simply didn’t matter here. However, that’s an instinctive reaction, and it’s hard to put in words just what is interesting me about it. There’s a whole world view behind it, here, and I’m not sure I’m aware of everything.
I might still be missing something, and you might be onto something: but I agree with the rephrasing, and the interest doesn’t vanish. Rather, the difference in phrasing seems trivial to me. See what I mean? You seem to assume that “to experience the world as a bat, you have to be a bat,” is philosophically uniteresting, but it’s not to me. The sentence itself expresses a banal fact, sure, but it’s tied into a core discontent of mine: the limits of empathy, for one. (How to express telepathy in fiction, for another. And so on.)
So to experience the world as a bat, you have to be a bat, sure. But why? And what does this say about the world we live in? How does the world partition itself into discrete experiential units? I’m locked out of something: what is it that I’m locked out of. What experiential worlds am I missing out on? (Lots.)