Category: Metaphilosophy

The Most Boring Philosophers

Nowadays philosophy so absorbs me in all its branches and movements that I find no philosopher boring. Indeed,  no subject is boring except to the bored who make it  so. Dry texts, like dry wines, are often delightfully subtle and simply require an educable and educated palate. Although no philosophers now bore me, here is a list of philosophers who bored me, or would have bored me, when I was one and twenty:

   1. G. E. Moore
   2. Elizabeth Anscombe
   3. Paul Ziff
   4. Norman Malcolm
   5. John Wisdom
   6. Roderick Chisholm

Philosophers who excited my 21 year old self:

   1. Nicholas Berdyaev
   2. Miguel de Unamuno
   3. Karl Jaspers
   4. Friedrich Nietzsche
   5. Martin Heidegger
   6. Jean-Paul Sartre

Now imagine a philosophy department composed of the twelve aforementioned. Do you think it would split into two factions? What, if anything, do they have in common that justifies subsuming them under the rubric, philosophers?

I have become in many ways more analytic and less Continental over the years. I tend to think that this a lot like becoming less liberal and more conservative, as these terms are popularly understood. One becomes more cautious, careful, precise, piece-meal, rigorous, attentive to details and differences and empirical data, less romantic, more patient, more logical, less impressionistic, less sanguine about big sweeping once-and-for-all solutions. . . .

In sum, and in a manner to elicit howls of protest:  In philosophy, the trajectory of maturation is from Continental to analytic.  In politics, from liberal to conservative.

Howl on, muchachos.

The Eliminativist/Reductivist Distinction: Three Further Examples

For Part I of this discussion, and the first six examples, see here.  Recall that my concern is to show via a variety of examples that the eliminativist-reductivist distinction is useful and important and indeed indispensable for clear thinking about a number of topics.

7. Truth is warranted assertibility.   Someone who makes this claim presumably intends to inform us about the nature of truth on the presupposition that there is truth.  He is saying: there is truth all right; and what it is is warranted assertibility.  But I say:  if truth is warranted assertibility, then there is no truth.  The italicized claim, no matter what the intentions of a person who makes it, amounts to a denial of truth.  This example, as it seems to me, is 'on all fours'  (as the Brits say) with the Feuerbach example and the 'properties are sets' example.  Just as a property is not the sort of entity that could be identified with a set, truth is not the sort of property that could be identified with warranted assertibility (even at the Peircean ideal limit of inquiry.)  These three claims are all of them eliminativist.

8. Truth is relative.  Ditto.  Truth is not the sort of property that could be relative: if you know what truth is then you know that truth is absolute.  So if you say that truth is relative, then you are either confusing truth with some other property (e.g. the property of being believed by someone) or you are willy-nilly denying the very existence of truth.  If you understand the concept of God, then you understand that God cannot be an anthropomorphic projection. And if you understand the concept of truth, then you understand that truth cannot be relative to anything, whatever your favorite index of relativization might be, whether individuals, social classes, historical epochs . . . .

See Truth is Absolute! Part One.   Part Two.

9. The morally obligatory is that which God commands.  In stark contrast to the two foregoing examples, this example cannot be given an eliminativist reading.  The very concept of truth disallows truth's relativization. But there is nothing in the concept of moral obligation to disallow the identification of the morally obligatory with that which God commands.  But here we need to make a distinction.

You will have noticed that identity is a symmetrical relation:  if x = y, then y = x.  But reduction is asymmetrical: if x reduces to y, then y does not reduce to x.  Therefore, an identification is not the same as a reductive identification or reduction.  'Hesperus = Phosphorus' is an identity claim but not a reductive claim: the claim is not that Hesperus reduces to Phosphorus, as if Phosphorus were the fundamental reality and Hesperus the less fundamental, or perhaps a mere appearance of Phosphorus.  But 'Table salt = NaCl' is a reduction of what is less fundamental to what is more fundamental.

Now what about our italicized claim?  There are problems with reading it as a left-to-right reduction.  The morally obligatory is what we morally ought to do; but what we ought to do cannot be reduced to what anyone commands, not even if the commander is morally perfect.  The normative oughtness of an act or act-ommission cannot be reduced the mere fact that someone commands it, even if the commander always commands all and only what one ought to do. So one could argue that the italicized claim, if construed as a reduction of the morally obligatory to what God commands, collapses into an elimination of the morally obligatory.  Be we needn't take it as a reduction; we can take it as a nonreductive identification.  Accordingly, being morally obligatory and being commanded by God are the same property in reality even though they are conceptually distinct.

But even if you don't agree with the details of my analysis, I think you must agree to distinguish among eliminative claims, reductive identity claims, and nonreductive identity claims.

 

On the Utility of the Eliminativist/Reductivist Distinction

If we think carefully about examples such as the following, I think we can come to agree that it is useful to make a distinction between eliminativist and reductivist claims.  The distinction is useful because it allows us to disambiguate claims that otherwise would be ambiguous.  Roughly, the distinction is between claims of the form There are no Fs and of the form There are Fs but Fs are Gs.

1. God is an anthropomorphic projection. (Feuerbach)  This could be construed as implying that there is an x such that x = God and x is an anthropomorphic projection.  This would be a reductivist construal.  It has absolutely nothing going for it given that the concept of God is the concept of a being that exists a se, and thus independently of human beings and their thoughts and projections.  If you think that God could be an anthropomorphic projection, then you simply do not understand the concept of God — whether or not anything instantiates the concept.The Feuerbachian claim is to be read eliminatively as  implying that there is no x such that x is God.

So here we have a very clear example of a sentence which, though it appears to be predicating something of God, and thus presupposing the existence of God, is really a negative existential in disguise. 

2. The self is a bundle of perceptions. (Hume)  This example, unlike the first, can be read either way with some plausibility.  I would argue that a mere bundle of perceptions (or of other mental data) cannot constitute a self because a self is that which supports and unifies and is aware of such data. But other philosophers will disagree.  So for present purposes I judge this example to be susceptible of both readings.

3. Causation is regular succession. Someone who claims that events e1, e2 are such that e1 causes e2 iff the e1-e2 event sequence instantiates a regularity is arguably leaving out something so fundamental — the notion that the cause produces or brings into existence the effect –  that the claim is tantamount to a denial of causation.  Or so I would argue.  But regularity theorists will vigorously disagree.  They will take the dictum (suitably expanded and qualified) to express the nature of causation.  They will insist that there is causation but that what it is is regular succession.  So, in an irenic spirit, I will classify this example as open to both readings.

4. Properties are sets.  (David Lewis)  Accordingly, the property of being red is the set of all actual and possible red things.  A cruder form of the theory is that the property of being red, e.g., is the set of all red things.  The theory in either form is hopeless, but that is not the question.  The question is whether it is eliminativist or reductivist.  Is it tantamount to a denial of properties, or does it imply that there are properties but that what they are are sets?  I say the former, but David Lewis is one formidable opponent!  Here is a quick little argument:  Properties are instantiable entities by definition; no set is instantiable; ergo, no property is a set!  My considered opinion is that 'Properties are sets' boils down to a denial of properties.  If you understand the concept property, then you know no property could be a set.  It is just like #1 above: if you understand the concept God, then you know that God could not be an anthropological projection.

5. Mental events are brain  events.  I suddenly remember an evening spent on the banks of the River Charles with a pretty girl . . . . That sudden remembering is a mental event token.  There are those who want to say that it is identical to a brain event token. These philosophers speak of 'token-token identity theory.'  The philosophers who maintain this do not intend to deny the existence of mental events; their intention is to inform us as to the nature of mental events on the presupposition that  they exist.

But although their intention is reductive identification and not elimination, one can reasonably wonder whether the reduction does not collapse into an elimination.  Indeed, that is what I would maintain.  For if every mental state is identical to some brain state, and if the identification is supposed to be a reduction  of the mental to the physical, then what you have in the final analysis is just the brain state: the mental state has been eliminated.

Even if you disagree with me that in this case the reduction collapses into an elimination, to even understand what the debate is about you must understand the distinction between elimination and reduction.

6. The tree in the quad is a cluster of ideas in the mind of God. (Berkeley)  The good bishop is not denying that there are physical things; he is telling us what he thinks physical things are.  They reduce to clusters or bundles of divine ideas.  It shows a complete lack of understanding to think that stone-kicking is so much as relevant to the idealist thesis.  So this is a clear case of a reduction.

Could one argue that in this case too the reduction collapses into an elimination?  If the mind-brain identity thesis collapses into an elimination of the mind (as was claimed in #5), then why shouldn't the Berkeleyan identity thesis (Physical objects are a clusters of divine ideas) collapse into an elimination of physical objects?  Perhaps we can say the following.  That the existence of a tree is its existence for the divine mind is consistent with everything we know about trees. (We do not know about trees that they can exist independently of any mind.)  But that a mental state is identical to a brain state is not consistent with what we know about mental states.  Thus we know that they exhibit intentionality while physical states do not.  Mental states cannot be identical to brain states; therefore, a materialist about the mind must be an eliminativist.  But an idealist about physical objects needn't be an eliminativist.

What is Philosophy?

I found the following on Keith's blog.  It is so good I simply must reproduce it here.

The nearest thing to a safe definition of the word "philosophy", if we wish to include all that has been and will be correctly so called, is that it means the activity of Plato in his dialogues and every activity that has arisen or will arise out of that.

(Richard Robinson, "Is Psychical Research Relevant to Philosophy?" The Aristotelian Society, supplementary volume 24 [1950]: 189-206, at 192.)

This is in line with my masthead motto which alludes to the famous observation of Alfred North Whitehead:

The safest general characterization of the European philosophical tradition is that it consists of a series of footnotes to Plato.  I do not mean the systematic scheme of thought which scholars have doubtfully extracted from his writings.  I allude to the wealth of general ideas scattered through them.  [. . .] Thus in one sense by stating my belief that the train of thought in these lectures is Platonic, I am doing no more than expressing the hope that it falls within the European tradition. (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, The Free Press, 1978, p. 39)

Presentism and Existence-Entailing Relations: An Aporetic Tetrad

It is plausibly maintained that all relations are existence-entailing. To illustrate from the dyadic case: if R relates a and b, then both a and b exist.   A relation cannot hold unless the things between which or among which it holds all exist.  A weaker, and hence even more plausible, claim is that all relations are existence-symmetric: if R relates a and b, then either both relata exist or both do not exist. Both the stronger and the weaker claims rule out the possibility of a relation that relates an existent and a nonexistent. (So if Cerberus is eating my cat, then Cerberus exists. And if I am thinking about Cerberus, then, given that Cerberus does not exist, my thinking does not relate me to Cerberus.  This implies that  intentionality is not a relation, though it is, as Brentano says, relation-like (ein Relativliches).)

But if presentism is true, and only temporally present items exist, then no relation connects a present with a nonpresent item. This seems hard to accept for the following reason.

I ate lunch  an hour ago. So the event of my eating (E) is earlier than the event of my typing (T). How can it be true that E bears the earlier than relation to T, and T bears the later than relation to E, unless both E and T exist? But E is nonpresent. If presentism is true, then E does not exist.  And if E does not exist, then E does not stand in the earlier than relation to T.  If, on the other hand, there are events that exist but are nonpresent, then presentism is false.

How will the presentist respond? Since E does not exist on his view, while T does, and E is earlier than T, he must either (A) deny that all relations are existence-symmetric, or deny (B) that earlier than is a relation. He must either allow the possibility of genuine relations that connect nonexistents and existents, or deny that T stands in a temporal relation to E.

To  fully savor the problem we  cast it in the mold of an aporetic tetrad:

1. All relations are either existence-entailing or existence-symmetric.

2. Earlier than is a relation.

3. Presentism: only temporally present items exist.

4. Some events are earlier than others.

Each limb of the tetrad is exceedingly plausible.  But they cannot all be true:  any three, taken together, entail the negation of the remaining limb.  For example, the first three entail the negation of the fourth.  To solve the problem, we must reject one of the limbs.  Now (4) cannot be rejected because it is a datum.

Will you deny (1) and say that there are relations that are neither existence-entailing nor existence-symmetric?  I find this hard to swallow because of the following argument.  (a) Nothing can have properties unless it exists.  Therefore (b) nothing can have relational properties unless it exists. (c) Every relation gives rise to relational properties:  if Rab, then a has the property of standing in R to b, and b has the property of standing in R to a.  Therefore, (d) if R relates a and b, then both a and b exist.

Will you deny (2) and say that earlier than is not a relation?  What else could it be?

Will you deny presentism and say that that both present and nonpresent items exist?  Since it is obvious that present and nonpresent items cannot exist in the present-tense sense of 'exists,'  the suggestion has to be that present and nonpresent (past or future) items exist in a tenseless sense of 'exist.'  But what exactly does this mean?

The problem is genuine, but there appears to be no good solution, no solution that does not involve its own difficulties.

Frondizi on the Philosophical Attitude

Risieri Fondizi's What is Value? An Introduction to Axiology, tr. S. Lipp (Open Court, 1963) has stood up well since its English debut over forty five years ago. What follows is a noteworthy metaphilosophical observation of Frondizi's:

The philosophical attitude is basically problematic. He who is not capable of grasping the sense of problems and who prefers to seize upon the first solution that presents itself, and which offers him illusory stability, runs the risk of being submerged, together with his so-called solution, in a sea of difficulties. (p. 26)

'Problematic' can mean dubious. But what Frondizi intends is best rendered by 'problem-oriented.' A philosopher is someone who is sensitive to puzzles, problems, and mysteries. Or, as I like to say, the philospher is one who has the aporetic sense.   I once heard Roderick Chisholm say that one is not philosophizing until one has a puzzle. That's exactly right. But of course it's an old thought. At Theaetetus 155, Plato tells us that philosophy begins in wonder or perplexity, this being the characteristic feeling of the philosopher. Aristotle echoes the idea at Metaphysics 982b10.

Wilfrid Sellars once likened the philosopher's touch to that of King Midas. Whatever the king touched, turned into gold; whatever the  philosopher touches turns into a puzzle. The trouble with this comparison is that it suggests that philosophers create their difficulties. Not so: they discover them, or at least some of them. We could call the ones that are discovered the ground-level problems, distinguishing them from problems that arise as artifacts of theories proposed in solution of the ground-level problems. The ground-level problems are in a  certain sense 'out there' independent of our linguistic and conceptual operations. Pace Wittgenstein, they are not engendered by a  "bewtchment of our understanding by language" (eine Verhexung unseres  Verstandes durch die Sprache). Pace Rorty, they do not arise as artifacts of arbitrarily adopted ways of talking.

The problem of universals, for example, is a perennial problem. It may not interest you, or seem important, but it is there whether you like it or not, and it has repercussions for problems you probably will find important. We attribute properties to things, and sometimes the things to which we attribute the properties actually have them. But what are properties? Are they mental in nature, or perhaps linguistic? Or are properties independent of language and mind? If the latter, are they universals (repeatable entities) or particulars (unrepeatable entities such as sets or tropes)? If properties are universals, can they exist uninstantiated, or can they only exist when instantiated?  How are properties related to the things that have them. 

These are some of the questions that arise when we think about what is somewhat misleadingly called the problem of universals. 'The problem of properties' is perhaps a better moniker.

The onus probandi is on anyone who claims that this problem (or cluster of problems) is not genuine.

A Modal Aporetic Tetrad

Here is a four-limbed aporetic polyad:

1. The merely possible is not actual.

2. To be actual is to exist.

3. To exist is to be.

4. The merely possible is not nothing.

Each limb is plausible, but they cannot all be true.  The first three limbs, taken together, entail the negation of the fourth.  Indeed, any three, taken together, entail the negation of the remaining limb, as you may verify for yourself. 

Now which limb ought we reject in order to avoid logical inconsistency?  (1) is non-negotiable because purely definitional.  Everything actual is possible, but not everything possible is actual.  'Merely possible,' by definition, refers to that which is possible but not actual.  This leaves us three options.

(2)-Rejection.  One might reject the equivalence of the actual and the existent analogously as one might reject the equivalence of the temporally present and the existent.  Just as one might maintain that past events exist just as robustly as present events despite their pastness, one might maintain that merely possible items exist just as robustly as actual items.  David Lewis' extreme ('mad dog') modal realism is an example of (2)-rejection.  On his modally egalitarian scheme there is a plurality of possible worlds all on an ontological par.  Each is a maximal mereological sum of concreta.  Each of these worlds is actual at itself, but no one of these worlds is actual simpliciter.  For each world w, w is actual-at-w, but no world is actual, period.  Thus there is no such property as absolute actuality.  It is not the case that one of the worlds is privileged over all the others in point of being actual simpliciter.  What is true of a world is true of its occupants:  I enjoy no ontological privilege over that counterpart of me who is bald now and living in Boston.  Actuality is world-relative and 'actual' is accordingly an indexical term like 'now.' When I utter a token of 'now' I refer to the time of my utterance; likewise, on Lewis' theory, when I utter a token of 'actual,' I refer to the world I am in.

Having rejected (2), a Lewis-type philosopher could gloss the other limbs of the tetrad as follows.  To say that the merely possible is not actual is to say that merely possible objects (e.g. bald Bill the Bostonian) are denizens of worlds other than this one.  To say that to exist is to be is to say that there is no distinction between the existence of an object and its being in some world or other.  To say that the merely possible is not nothing is to say that objects which are not denizens of this world are denizens of some other world or worlds.

I am tempted to say that this solution, via rejection of (2), is worse than the problem.  For one has to swallow an infinity of equally real possible worlds.  Further, my possibly being bald is not some counterpart of mine's being bald in another possible world.  (This critique of course needs to be spelled out in detail.)

(3)-Rejection.  A second theoretical option is to reject the equivalence of being and existence, of that which is and that which exists.  Accordingly, there are things that are but do not exist.  They have Being but not Existence.  Everything is, but only some things exist.  The early Russell, in the Principles of Mathematics from 1903, toyed with this view although he rejected it later in his career.  If existents are a proper subset of beings, then one could locate merely possible items in among the beings that do not exist.  The merely possible would then have Being but  not Existence or Actuality.

This solution leads to an ontological population explosion much as the Lewis theory does. 

(4)-Rejection.  A third option is to deny (4) by affirming that the merely possible is nothing in reality, that it has no ontological status.   One might construe the merely possible as merely epistemic, as being merely parasitic on our ignorance, or as having no status outside our thought.   A view along these lines can be found in Spinoza. 

Intuitively, though, it seems mistaken to say that there are no genuine, mind-independent possibilities.  My writing desk, for example, is one inch from the wall, but it could have been two inches from the wall.  It is not just that I can imagine or conceive it being two inches from the wall; it really could be two inches from the wall even though this possible state of affairs was never actual and never will be actual. (Moreover, what I CAN imagine or conceive refers to real but unactual possibilities of imagination and conception; or will you say that these possibilities are themselves derivative from acts of imagining or conceiving?  If you do, then a vicious infinite regress is in the offing.))

Now suppose I had provided more rigorous and more convicing rejections of each of the three theoretical options.  Suppose that a strong case can be made that all four propositions must be accepted.  Then we would have four propositions each of which has a very strong claim on our acceptance, but which are collectively inconsistent.  (Assume that the inconsistency is demonstrable.) What might one conclude from that?  (A) One possibility is that we ought to abandon the Law of Non-Contradiction.  (B) A second is that one of the solutions must be right even though we have good reason to think that every solution is mistaken.  (C) A third is that the aporetic tetrad is an insoluble problem, a genuine intellectual knot that cannot be untied.

Note that (A), (B), and (C) form a meta-aporia.  Each of them has a claim on our acceptance, but they cannot all be true.

Suppose there are genuine but absolutely insoluble philosophical problems.  What would that show, if anything?

Wrong Division of Philosophical Labor

The most important questions, the existential ones, should not be left to the sloppiest and least able thinkers. Equally, careful and rigorous thinkers should not confine themselves to unworthy or merely preliminary topics.

For example, some of the best heads in philosophy work exclusively in the philosophy of science. But for a philosopher to be a a mere handmaiden of positive science is an unworthy use of his abilities.  Better to be a handmaiden of theology. But best of all would be to be no handmaiden at all. Philosophy is ancillary to nothing, unless it be  truth herself.

What is Philosophy? Some Contemporary Views

The question about the nature of philosophy is itself a philosophical question:  metaphilosophy is a branch of philosophy.  And so one expects and finds a variety of competing answers.  Here are some.  I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the quotations.  My comments are in blue.  I conclude with a brief statement of my own.

Philosophy is thinking in slow motion. It breaks down, describes and assesses moves we ordinarily make at great speed – to do with our natural motivations and beliefs. It then becomes evident that alternatives are possible [John Campbell, Philosophers]

Nice as a characterization, but does not get the length of a definition.  You could say the same about physics.

One comes to philosophy already endowed with a stock of opinions. It is not the business of philosophy either to undermine or to justify these pre-existing opinions, to any great extent, but only to try to discover ways of expanding them into an orderly system.  It succeeds to the extent that (1) it is systematic, and (2) it respects those of our pre-philosophical opinions to which we are firmly attached. In so far as it does both better than any alternative we have thought of, we give it credence. [David Lewis, Counterfactuals]

Although I am a conservative across the board (socially, politically, fiscally, linguistically . . .), this characterization I find too conservative.  Like a good conservative, I am prepared to say that there is a presumption in favor of pre-existing opinions, but that it is a defeasible presumption.  Why shouldn't metaphysics be revisionary as opposed to descriptive, to allude to P. F. Strawson's old distinction?  (See the opening sentences of Individuals: An Essay in Descriptive Metaphysics, Methuen, 1959.) Included in our stock of "pre-existing opinions" are our modal beliefs.  Must we uphold them at all costs?  Could it not be that there is no modality in reality, that modality is merely epistemic? And when one considers the absurd lengths to which David Lewis was driven "to expand into an orderly system" our modal opinions, then one could reasonably maintain that it would be better to jettison our ordinary modal opinions if the only suitable truthmakers for them are possible worlds conceived of as maximal mereological sums of concreta all equally real.

If one adopted Lewis's characterization, one would have to deny that F. H. Bradley was a philosopher.  For his was a revisionary project: he was not concerned to "expand into an orderly system" "our pre-existing opinions."  Quite the contrary: he was out to consign the whole lot of them to the realm of Appearance.  And it seems the question whether metaphysics should be descriptive or revisionary, a question which is itself philosophical,  would be ruled out if Lewis's characterization is accepted.

Continue reading “What is Philosophy? Some Contemporary Views”

Clarity is Not Enough

This scribbler has penned paragraphs which, upon re-reading, not even he could make head nor tail of. That is often a sign of bad writing. It can also indicate sloppy thinking. But it may also show a noble attempt to press against the bounds of sense and the limits of intelligibility.  And if philosophy does not make that attempt, what good is it?

There is, after all, such a thing as superficial clarity. (He said with a sidelong glance in the direction of Rudolf and Ludwig.)

A Battle of Titans: Plato Versus Aristotle

School_of_Athens

It is sometimes said that there are only two kinds of philosophers, Platonists and Aristotelians.  What follows is a quotation from Heinrich Heine which expresses one version of this useful simplification.  Carl Gustav Jung places it at the very beginning of his Psychological Types (Princeton UP, 1971, p. 2.)

Plato and Aristotle! These are not merely two systems: they are also types of two distinct human natures, which from time immemorial, under every sort of disguise, stand more or less inimically opposed. The whole medieval period in particular was riven by this conflict, which persists down to the present day, and which forms the most essential content of the history of the Christian Church. Although under other names, it is always of Plato and Aristotle that we speak. Visionary, mystical, Platonic natures disclose Christian ideas and their corresponding symbols from the fathomless depths of their souls. Practical, orderly, Aristotelian natures build out of these ideas and symbols a fixed system, a dogma and a cult. Finally, the Church eventually embraces both natures—one of them entrenched in the clergy, and the other in monasticism; but both keeping up a constant feud. ~ H. Heine, Deutschland

Plato, on the left carrying The Timaeus, points upwards while Aristotle, on the right carrying his Ethics, points either forward (thereby valorizing the 'horizontal' dimension of time and change as against Plato's 'vertical' gesture) or downwards (emphasizing the foundational status of sense particulars and sense knowledge.)  At least  five contrasts are suggested: vita contemplativa versus vita activa, mundus intelligibilis versus mundus sensibilis, transcendence versus immanence, eternity versus time, mystical unity versus rational-cum-empirical plurality.

Heine is right about the battle within Christianity between the Platonic and Aristotelian tendencies.  Trinity, Incarnation, Transubstantiation, Divine Simplicity — these are at bottom mystical notions impervious to penetration by the discursive intellect as we have been lately observing.  Nevertheless,"Practical, orderly, Aristotelian natures build out of these ideas and symbols a fixed system, a dogma and a cult."  But the dogmatic constructions, no matter how clever and detailed, never succeed in rendering intelligible the  transintelligible, mystical contents.

Philosophy is Inquiry not Ideology

(The following, composed 16 February 2005, is imported from the first incarnation of Maverick Philosopher.  It makes some important points that bear repeating.)

On the masthead of The Ivory Closet, now defunct: "Life as a Closet Conservative Inside Liberal Academia."

From the post Liberal Groupthink is My Cover:

My dissertation, which I'm still working on, focuses on a contemporary French philosopher who is known in academia primarily as a radical Leftist. Generally speaking, academics seem to just assume that you agree with and share the same views as the figure you focus on in your dissertation. So, everyone just assumes that since I'm writing on a radical Leftist that I must be a radical Leftist. I keep my mouth shut about my conservativism. Often I have to bite my tongue when I hear disparaging remarks about conservatives. But, so long as I manage to do that the liberal bias of academia makes it all too easy to stay in the closet. Everyone just assumes your [you're] a liberal.

Continue reading “Philosophy is Inquiry not Ideology”

John Gardner on Fiction and Philosophy

John Gardner, On Writers and Writing, p. 225:

. . . at their best, both fiction and philosophy do the same thing, only fiction does it better — though slower. Philosophy by essence is abstract, a sequence of general argument controlled in its profluence by either logic (in old-fashioned systematic philosophy) or emotional coherence (in the intuitive philosophies of say, Nietzsche and Kierkegaard). We read the argument and it seems to flow along okay, make sense, but what we ask is, "Is this true of my mailman?" . . .

Fiction comes at questions from the other end. It traces or explores some general argument by examining a particular case in which the universal case seems implied; and in place of logic or emotional coherence — the philosopher's stepping stones — fictional argument is controlled by mimesis: we are persuaded that the characters would indeed do exactly what we are told they do and say . . . . If the mimesis convinces us, then the question we ask is opposite to that we ask of philosophical argument; that is, we ask, "Is this true in general?"

Continue reading “John Gardner on Fiction and Philosophy”

An Escape From Reality?

If someone tells you that philosophy is an escape from reality, reply: "You tell me what reality is, and I'll tell you whether philosophy is an escape from it."

The point, of course, is that all assertions about reality and its evasions are philosophical assertions that embroil the objector in the very thing from which he seeks to distance himself.