Seneca and the Consolations of Chess and Philosophy

A correspondent reminds me of the following passage from Seneca's De Tranquillitate XIV, 6-7, tr. Basore:

Will you believe that Canus spent the ten intervening days before his execution in no anxiety of any sort? What the man said, what he did, how tranquil he was, passes all credence. He was playing chess when the centurion who was dragging off a whole company of victims to death ordered that he also be summoned. Having been called, he counted the pawns and said to his partner: "See that after my death you do not claim falsely that you won." Then nodding to the centurion, he said, "You will bear witness that I am one pawn ahead."

A little farther down, at XIV, 10, Seneca pays Canus the ultimate tribute:

Ecce in media tempestate tranquillitas, ecce animus aeternitate dignus, qui fatuum suum in argumentum veri vocat, qui in ultimo illo gradu positus exeuntem animam percontatur nec usque ad mortem tantum sed aliquid etiam ex ipsa morte discit. Nemo diutius philosophatus est.

Here is tranquillity in the very midst of the storm, here is a mind worthy of immortality — a spirit that summons its own fate to the proof of the truth, that, in the very act of taking that one last step, questions the departing soul, and learns, not merely up to the point of death, but seeks to learn something even from death itself. No one has ever played the philosopher longer.

Philosophy is Dialectical and Aporetic

Gustav Bergmann, Meaning and Existence (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1959, p. vii):

Philosophy is dialectical. This means, among other things, that critical examination of the positions he rejects is an important part of a philosopher's argument for the position he adopts.

I would add that philosophy is also aporetic. The positions a philosopher affirms are responses to problems and cannot be understood otherwise. The problems are logically primary; solutions in the form of theories and theses are logically secondary. As Plato puts it at Theaetetus 155, "wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder."   This passage is expressive of the aporetic sense.

Philosophical Vulgarity

Is it not vulgarity in a philosopher to think that he will settle the ultimate questions in short order? One thinks of the Tractarian Wittgenstein and of Ayn Rand. Connected with this is the philistinism of certain forms of clarity such as that of the logical positivist. One recalls Rudolf Carnap's pathetic refutation of Heidegger. And then there is the vulgarity of the later Wittgenstein's speleo-conservatism which, leaving everything in the Cave just as it was, takes the form, not of facile solutions to problems, but of their very denial.

Notes on Philosophical Terminology and its Fluidity

The Fact of Terminological Fluidity

If Peter and Bill are talking philosophy, the first thing that has to occur, if there is is to be any forward movement, is that the interlocutors must pin each other down terminology-wise. Each has to come to understand how the other is using his terms. It is notorious that key philosophical terms are used in different ways by different philosophers.

The following is a partial list of terms used in different ways by different philosophers: abstract, concrete, object, subject, fact, proposition, world, predicate, property, substance, event.

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Can Philosophy be Taught?

In one sense a philosophy is a set of conclusions, systematically set forth, on ultimate matters. To appreciate the conclusions, however, one must appreciate the arguments and counterarguments the sifting of which first led the philosopher to the conclusions. But to understand the arguments and counterarguments one must understand the issues and problems that they revolve around. Appreciation of the issues and problems, in turn, is rooted in wonder  the presupposition of which is a contemplative detachment from the taken-for-granted.

And so we must distinguish: doctrines, arguments, problems, wonder.  Philosophy as the study of the doctrines of the philosophers is philosophy in its most superficial sense.  Studying that, one is not studying philosophy, but philosophies, and them in their most external form.  Philosophy as the grappling with the arguments whose conclusions  are the doctrines is closer to the real thing.  Philosophy as the exfoliation and penetration of the problems themselves, under suspension of the need to solve them at all costs, is closer still to philosophy's throbbing heart.   This is philosophy as aporetics.  But without wonder there can be no appreciation of problems, let alone solutions.  Thus we have it on the excellent authority of both Plato and Aristotle that philosophy begins in wonder.

Upshot? Teaching philosophy is well-nigh impossible. One can of course teach the lore of the philosophers, but that is not what philosophy is in its vital essence.  And although argumentative and logical skills are impartable to the moderately intelligent, the aporetic sense, the feel for a philosophical problem, is not readily imparted regardless of the intelligence of the student. A fortiori, the wonder at the source of the aporetic sense is a gift of the gods, and nothing a mere mortal teacher can dispense.

So I propose to go Kant one better. Somewhere deep in the bowels of   The Critique of Pure Reason,  he remarks that "Philosophy cannot be taught, we can at most learn to philosophize." I say that neither philosophy as doctrinal system nor the art of philosophizing can be taught. For there is no one extant doctrinal system called philosophy, and neither the aporetic sense nor the wonder at its root can be taught.   As I used to say in my teaching days, "Philosophy cannot be a mass consumption item." Logic perhaps, philosophy no.

Or to paraphrase a remark I once heard Hans-Georg Gadamer make, "Just as there are the musical and the unmusical, there are the philosophical and the unphilosophical."  One cannot teach music to the unmusical or philosophy to the unphilosophical.  The muse of philosophy must have visited you; otherwise you are out of luck.

Contra Negantem Prima Principia Non Esse Disputandum

"One should not dispute with those who deny first principles." I found this Latin tag in Luther's Tischreden (Table Talks) in a section entitled Unnütze Fragen (Useless Questions), Weimarer Ausgabe, III, 2844. He applied it to those who deny the authority of the Bible. I agree with the maxim but I find that the good doctor has misapplied it. One who is serious about the truth should want to enter into dialogue with intelligent, sincere, civil, and serious people regardless of their point of view, and this includes those who deny the authority of the Bible. How can one care about the truth and not want to study every philosophy, every religion, and every political ideology?  Study everything! How can a serious inquirer not want to know whether what he holds to be true really is true?

But a maxim that can be misapplied can also be correctly applied. There are some principles so fundamental that they cannot be rationally disputed. Among these are the principles that make possible rational discourse. There was a nincompoop of a leftist commenter at the now defunct Right Reason once who opined that truth is a social construction. Anyone who maintains a thesis of such stark absurdity is not one on whom one should waste any words. That truth is absolute, and as such the opposite of a social construction, is a first principle to which Luther's maxim applies.  If you have truth, you have something absolute — which is not to say  that you have truth!

On Wasting Time With Philosophy (And a Jab at Pascal)

People talk glibly about wasting time on this, that, and the other thing — but without reflecting on what it is to waste time. People think they know which activities are time-wasters, philosophy for example. But to know what wastes time, one would have to know what is a good, a non-wasteful, use of time. And one would presumably also have to know that one ought to use one's time well. One uses one's time well when one uses it in pursuit of worthy ends. But which ends are worthy? Does this question have an answer? Does it even make sense? And if it does, what sense does it make? And what is the answer? Now these are all philosophical questions.

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Philosophy, Religion, and the Philosophy of Religion: Four Theses

T1. The primary purpose of the philosophy of religion is neither to debunk nor defend religion. Its main aim is neither dismissive in the manner of Dawkins, Dennett, and Co., nor is it apologetic or ancillary in the sense of the Medieval Philosophia ancilla theologiae, "Philosophy is the handmaiden of theology." The central task of the philosophy of religion is to understand religious beliefs, practices, and posits (God, Brahman, etc.) and everything connected with these beliefs, practices, and posits, including arguments for and against religious belief.

T2. People have doxastic security needs just as they have physical, psychological, and economic security needs. A stable system of beliefs gives order, cohesion, and overall purpose to the various activities that make up one's life. It doesn't matter whether one is a Buddhist, a Muslim, a Communist, a disciple of Ayn Rand, or anything else. Belief systems are life-enhancing. This is why people 'bristle' when they think someone is 'attacking' their belief system. Since philosophy is not well understood, many people view philosophical examination of a belief system they hold as an 'attack' upon it, and as an attack upon them. For it is human nature to identify with one's cherished beliefs, and to perceive one's very identity as wrapped up in them.

T3. From the point of view of philosophy, however, it is a mistake to identify oneself with a particular set of beliefs, especially when the particular set is opposed by other particular sets each with its fervent and sometimes bloodthirsty adherents. The philosopher — and I am speaking of an ideal type here, one that Socrates Jones down the hall may have perfectly exemplified only twice in his long career — identifies with the ultimate truth. Thus he is not a dogmatist, neither a dogmatic affirmer nor a dogmatic denier. He is also not a skeptic if a skeptic is one who practices epoche, or doxastic suspension, with respect to every belief that transcends mundane matters. The philosopher is rather a tentative affirmer who is open to ongoing examination of his beliefs and who refuses to identify himself with any system of beliefs short of the ultimate system — which may forever remain an unattained ideal.

In fact, the true philosopher is open to the examination of such metaphilosophical propositions as I have just sketched. Not even these does he hold dogmatically. It follows that he does not identify with being a philosopher in such a way as to preclude the possibility that some day he may abandon the philosophical life by submitting to the crucifixion of the intellect, or by making money and 'enjoying the good life.' (But will he be able to refrain from asking what it is to enjoy the good life?) A truly examined life is a life in which the examination of life is itself examined.

T4. Philosophy is not ideology. As I explain here, an ideology is a system of beliefs, or a collection of ideas, that is primarily oriented toward action and not primarily toward truth. That is how I use 'ideology.' There is nothing pejorative in my use. You are free to use it in some other way, but then you must tell us how you are using it. Philosophy is not ideology since it is primarily oriented toward the knowledge of truth. Religion, however, as a system of beliefs, is a species of ideology since it is primarily oriented toward action. Religion is predicated upon human spiritual neediness, the wretchedness endemic to our condition, and has as its aim our salvation from this indigence and wretchedness. Thus religious beliefs and practices aim at salvific action, salvific transformation from the state of spiritual wretchedness to one of spiritual well-being. Religion is like medicine or the medical arts. The medical arts are predicated upon actual and possible physical debility and aim to cure and prevent physical debility as far as possible. The aim in both cases is in achieving a cure, a transition from sickness to health (whether spiritual or physcal), not in understanding for its own sake.

What holds for philosophy holds for philosophy of religion: it is not primarily about action. So if a philosopher points out the apparent conflict between a Biblical statement and a deliverance of reason or a deliverance of morality, his primary aim is to understand the conflict, the problems it poses, and the various solutions available. His primary aim is not to destroy Bible-based faith or 'apologize' for it. (This word in the sense of 'apologetics' or the 'apology' of Socrates.)

For an adherent of a religion to understand a philosophy-of-religion discussion requires that he be able to calmly contemplate his doxastic commitments as if they were the commitments of someone else. But this is very difficult! Religion, like politics, inflames people's passions. It does so because it is extremely difficult for people to inhibit the natural tendency to identify themselves with the life-guiding and life-enhancing and meaning-bestowing beliefs they happen to hold. (Attack a Muslim's beliefs and he will take you to be attacking his very identity; don't be surprised if he feels himself to be under existential threat.) But he who cannot calmly distance himself from his own beliefs cannot philosophize. One of the virtues of the philosopher — again, I am speaking of an ideal type — is the ability to examine his own most cherished beliefs, and in all consistency I would apply that also to all the beliefs that constitute his Existenz as a philosopher.

Is There Progress in Philosophy?

There are at least two affirmative answers to this question. (There are actually more than two affirmative answers, but brevity is the soul of blog.)

1. Yes, there is progress in philosophy; it is just that when philosophy makes progress it is no longer called philosophy. Time was, when all rational inquiry was called philosophy. Aristotle, for example, investigated a wide variety of subjects: formal and informal logic, rhetoric, poetics, physics, astronomy, biology, psychology, metaphysics, ethics, and politics. Given that undeniable progress has been made in some of these fields, philosophy has made progress. No one will deny, for example, that physics and biology have made progress. Given that branches of philosophy have made progress, philosophy has made progress in these branches. It is worth noting that physicists as late as the 19th century were still called natural philosophers. And you will recall that the full title of Sir Isaac Newton's Principia (1686) is Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy.

There is, therefore, a clear sense in which philosophy has made progress. It has made progress in that certain of its branches have made progress.

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Retortion and Performative Inconsistency Once Again

This post continues my meditations on the probative reach of retortion.  See the category Retortion for more on this intriguing topic.

1. If a number of us are sitting silently in a room, I cannot say 'We are silent' without in some sense contradicting myself.  In what sense, exactly?  In the performative sense.  Were I to say 'We are silent,' my performance (Vollzug in E. Coreth's terminology) — in this case my utterance – would be 'inconsistent' with its content.  Now contents are propositions, while utterance events are not, the reason being that contents are truth-valued (either true or false assuming Bivalence) while utterance events, like all events, are not truth-valued.  It follows that performative inconsistency is not identical to, or a species of, logical inconsistency.  Logical consistency/inconsistency is a relation between or among propositions.  Two propositions are consistent iff they can both be true, and inconsistent iff they cannot.  A single proposition is self-consistent iff its logical form is such as to admit some true substitution-instances.  Clearly, there is nothing logically self-inconsistent about 'We are silent.'   The sentence is not logically self-contradictory.  But I would contradict myself were I to say, in the situation described, 'We are silent.'  Curiously, I cannot say in this situation what I know to be true.  If I were to say it, I would falsify it.  Therefore, the proposition that I know to be true is unassertible salva veritate in the situation in question. No doubt I have the ability to assert the sentence-type 'We are silent'; but I cannot assert it in a way that preserves truth.  But this does not show that the proposition is false, or that its negation — We are not silent — is true. 

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The Reach of Retortion

Tony Flood e-mails:

Bill, when you distinguish retorsive arguments that work from those that don't, I'm not clear about what you mean by "working." You haven't said that some retorsive arguments are fallacies, but if they're not, then what is their defect?  A "performative contradiction," e.g., "I cannot write a sentence in English," may not be, as you noted, a contradiction between propositions, but to expose its untenability is certainly effective and therefore "works."  Do you exclude performative contradictions from the class of retorsive arguments? If you do and if you're right, my celebration of that "point of connection" was misplaced. (I've modified that paragraph to include the link to your post.)

I will try to answer Tony's question by giving an example of a retorsive argument that does not 'work.'  In Retortion and the Existence of Truth I gave an example that did seem to 'work.'

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Philosophy as Hobby, as Career, as Vocation

An e-mail from a few years back with no name attached:

Leiter fancies himself a gatekeeper to the realm of academic philosophy. You gotta love the professional gossip that seeps through his blog – Ned Block got an offer from Harvard but turned it down, here's the latest coming out of the Eastern APA, or noting, yesterday, that Ted Honderich consulted him during the publication of the new Oxford Companion to Philosophy. And look at the way Leiter prides himself on knowing the goings on at each school and each professor. . . what a status-obsessed elitist (I believe those are your words). No wonder this guy publishes the PGR. Others of us enjoy doing philosophy, most of the time, but here is a man who loves *being* a philosopher, all of the time.

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Morris Lazerowitz on Philosophy and Propositions

Immersed as I am these days in a metaphilosophical project, I once again pull Lazerowitz's Philosophy and Illusion (Humanities Press, 1968) from the shelf.  Morris Lazerowitz (1907-1987) may not be much read these days, but his ideas remain provocative and worth considering, despite the fact that they are now taken seriously by few, if any.  But if he is right in his metaphilosophy, then I am wrong in mine, and so intellectual honesty requires that I look into this in some detail.

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Deus Ex Machina: Leibniz Contra Malebranche

I have been searching the 'Net and various databases such as JSTOR without success for a good article on deus ex machina objections in philosophy.  What exactly is a deus ex machina (DEM)?  When one taxes a theory or an explanatory posit with DEM, what exactly is one alleging?  How does a DEM differ from a legitimate philosophical explanation that invokes divine or some other nonnaturalistic agency?  Since it is presumably the case that not every recourse to divine agency in philosophical theories is a DEM, what exactly distinguishes legitimate recourse to divine agency from DEM? Does anyone have any references for me?  Herewith, some preliminary exploratory notes on deus ex machina.

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The Dictionary Fallacy

What I will call the Dictionary Fallacy is the fallacy of thinking that certain philosophical questions can be answered by consulting dictionaries.  The philosophical questions I have in mind are those of the form What is X? or What is the nature of X?  High on the list:  What is justice?  Knowledge? Existence?  Goodness?  But also:  What is hypocrisy? Lying? Self-deception? Envy? Jealousy? Schadenfreude? Socialism?  Taxation?  And so on. The dictionaries I am referring to are ordinary dictionaries, not philosophical dictionaries. 

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