Typos!

Despite my 'due diligence,' typographical errors, though I strive to ferret them out, often go undetected on the day of publication.  All of yesterday's posts contain them.  So I will correct them now.  No, I don't use any SpellCheck utility.  That's like having a jackass of an editor looking over my shoulder, a miserable Besserwisser who thinks he knows what I am 'trying' to say and how I want to say it.  I'll say it my own way, damn you, and without your political correctness and school-marmish rules.

Philosophy, Debate, and Dialog

The proprietor of Beyond Necessity tells us that he is thinking of attending the London debate between William Lane Craig and atheist philosopher Stephen Law on 17 October.  I hope he attends and files his report.

But can philosophy be debated?  In a loose sense, yes, but not in a strict sense.  I say that if debate is occurring in a certain place, then no philosophy is occurring in that place.  Philosophy is not a matter of debate.  That is a nonnegotiable point with me.  So I won't debate it, nor can I consistently with what I have just said.   It is after all a (meta)philosophical point: if philosophy cannot be debated then the same goes for this particular philosopheme.  But though I won't debate the point, I must in my capacity as philosopher give some reasons for my view.  My view is a logical consequence of my view of debate in conjunction with my view of philosophy.

Debate is a game in which the interlocutors attempt to defeat each other, typically before an audience whose approbation they strive to secure.  Hence the query 'Who won the debate?' which implies that the transaction is about attacking and defending, winning and losing.  I don't deny that debates can be worthwhile in politics and in other areas.  And even in philosophy they may have some use.  Someone who attends the Craig-Law debate will come away with some idea of what sorts of issues philosophers of religion discuss.  What he won't come away with is any understanding of the  essence of philosophy.

Why is philosophy — the genuine article — not something that can be debated? 

Philosophy is inquiry.  It is inquiry by those who don't know (and know that they don't know) with the sincere intention of increasing their insight and understanding.  Philosophy is motivated by the love of truth, not the love of verbal battle or the need to defeat an opponent or shore up and promote a preconceived opinion about which one has no real doubt.  When philosophy is done with others it takes the form of dialog, not debate. It is conversation between friends, not opponents, who are friends of the truth before they are friends of each other.  Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas.

There is nothing adversarial  in a genuine philosophical conversation.  The person I am addressing and responding to is not my adversary but a co-inquirer.  In the ideal case there is between us a bond of friendship, a philiatic bond.  But this philia subserves the eros of inquiry.  The philosopher's love of truth is erotic, the love of one who lacks for that which he lacks.  It is not the agapic love of one who knows and bestows his pearls of wisdom.

There is nothing like this in a debate.  The aim in a debate is not to work with the other towards a truth that neither claims to possess.  On the contrary, each already 'knows' what the truth is and is merely trying to attack the other's counter-position while defending his own.  Thus the whole transation is ideological the two sides of which are polemics and apologetics.  Debate is verbal warfare.  This is why debaters never show doubt or admit they are wrong.  To show doubt is to show weakness.  To prevail against an enemy you must not appear weak but intimidating.

There is no place for polemics in philosophy.  To the extent that polemics creeps in, philosophy becomes ideology.  This is not to say that there is no place for polemics or apologetics.  It is to say that that place is not philosophy.

Discussions with ideologues, whether religious or anti-religious, tend to be unpleasant and unproductive.  They see everything in terms of attack and defense.  If you merely question their views they are liable to become angry or flustered.  I once questioned a Buddhist on his 'no self' doctrine.  He became hostile.  His hostility at my questioning of one of the beliefs with which he identifies proved that his 'self' was alive and kicking despite doctrinal asseverations to the contrary.

Athens, Jerusalem, and Karl Jaspers

I stand astride both cities, with a foot in each.  But I favor one leg . . . .

Or to change the metaphor:  I do not look down upon the cities from above as from an Olympian standpoint but sight from the perspective of one of the cities, Athens, towards the other, Jerusalem.

So while I attempt a syn-optic view, my syn-optics cannot quite shake off the perspectivism of all finite optics.  My intellectual honesty demands recognition of this fact. 

JaspersIn the last paragraph of the preface to the book that bears the slightly inaccurate English title Philosophical Faith and Revelation, Karl Jaspers explains why he entitled his book Der Philosophische Glaube Angesichts der Offenbarung and not Der Philosophische Glaube und Offenbarung.  Jaspers remarks that und (and) would be inappropriate because it would suggest that he was laying claim to a superior standpoint outside both philosophy and revelation, a standpoint that Jaspers does not claim to occupy.  He speaks from the side of philosophy while being touched, struck, affected (betroffen) by  the claims of revelation.  Thus his philosophical faith is in the face of (angesichts) revelation, elaborated in confrontation with it.  And so his philosophical optics are situated and perspectival, not synoptic or panoptic.

 

It seems we have only four options assuming that an Hegelian panoptical God's eye view is unavailable to us, a view which would somehow synthesize philosophy and religion:

1. Deny the tension by eliminating Athens in favor of Jersualem in the manner of an irrationalist like Lev Shestov.
2. Deny the tension by eliminating Jerusalem in favor Athens.
3. Live the tension as a philosopher who takes seriously the claims and demands of revelation.
4. Live the tension as a religionist who take seriously the claims and demands of philosophy.

(1) and (2) are nonstarters.  So we are left with the difficult choice between (3) and (4).

A Test for the Religious Sensibility

Some have the religious sensibility (inclination, predisposition, call it what you will) and some don't.  Here is one of several possible tests to see if you have it.  Get hold of Augustine's Confessions and Pascal's Pensées. If you read these books and they do not speak to you at all, if they do not move you, if they leave you cold, if they do not in any measure inspire you to reform your life, then it is a good bet that you don't have a religious bone in your body. It is not matter of intelligence but of sensibility.

"He didn't have a religious bone in his body." I recall that line from Stephanie Lewis' obituary for her husband David, one of the most brilliant American philosophers of the postwar period. He was highly intelligent and irreligious. Others are highly intelligent and religious. Among contemporary philosophers one could mention Alvin Plantinga, Peter van Inwagen, and Richard Swinburne.

The belief that being intelligent rules out being religious casts doubt on the intelligence of those who hold it.

Bierce, Blondel, and Nirvana

This from The Devil's Dictionary:

     Nirvana, n. In the Buddhist religion, a state of pleasurable
     annihilation awarded to the wise, particularly to those wise enough
     to understand it. (Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, c. 1911)

Although intended sardonically, there is a serious point here to which Maurice Blondel alludes in the following quotation:

     . . . if there is a salvation it cannot be tied to the learned
     solution of an obscure problem. . . It can only be offered clearly
     to all. (Action, p. 14)

It might be fruitful for someone to develop a comparison of Buddhism and Christianity on this point. Buddhism is a religion of self-help: "Be ye lamps unto yourselves, etc." Trouble is, how many attain the Goal? And if only a few renunciates ever attain it, how does that help the rest of us poor schleps? By contrast, in Christianity, God, in the person of the Word (Logos) made flesh, does the work for us. Unable ultimately to help ourselves, we are helped by Another. And the help is available to all despite their skills in metaphysics and meditation. (By "do the work for us," I of course do not mean to suggest the sola fide extremism of some Protestants.)

Obviously, what I have just written is but a crude gesture in the direction of a whole constellation of problem-clusters. For example, a thorough comparison would have to go into the role of the Bodhisattva as a sort of helper of samsarically-bound 'schleps.'

George Will on the Liberal-Collectivist Agenda

Excerpt:

The collectivist agenda is antithetical to America’s premise, which is: Government — including such public goods as roads, schools and police — is instituted to facilitate individual striving, a.k.a. the pursuit of happiness. The fact that collective choices facilitate this striving does not compel the conclusion that the collectivity (Warren’s “the rest of us”) is entitled to take as much as it pleases of the results of the striving.

Warren’s statement is a footnote to modern liberalism’s more comprehensive disparagement of individualism and the reality of individual autonomy. A particular liberalism, partly incubated at Harvard, intimates the impossibility, for most people, of self-government — of the ability to govern one’s self. This liberalism postulates that, in the modern social context, only a special few people can literally make up their own minds.

Should One Stoop to a Defense of Philosophy or the Humanities?

Philosophy_discussionThe place of philosophy in college curricula is often defended on the ground that its study promotes critical thinking.

Now I don't doubt that courses in logic, epistemology, and ethics can help inculcate habits of critical thinking and good judgment. And it may also be true that philosophy has a unique role to play here. So, while it is true that every discipline teaches habits of critical thinking and good judgment in that discipline, there are plenty of issues that are not discipline-specific, and these need to be addressed critically as well.

What I object to, however, is the notion that philosophy needs to justify itself in terms of an end external to it, and that its main justification is in terms of an end outside of it. The main reason to study philosophy is not to become a more critical reasoner or a better evaluator of evidence, but to grapple with the ultimate questions of human existence and to arrive at as much insight into them as is possible. What drives philosophy is the desire to know the ultimate truth about the ultimate matters. Let's not confuse a useful byproduct of philosophical study (development of critical thinking skills) with the goal of philosophical study. The reason to study English literature is not to improve one's vocabulary or to prepare for a career as a journalist.   Similarly, the reason to study philosophy is not to improve one's ability to think clearly about extraphilosophical matters or to acquire skills that may prove handy in law school.

Philosophy is an end in itself. This is why it is foolish to try to convince philistines that it is good for something. It is not primarily good for something. It is a good in itself. Otherwise you are acquiescing in the philistinism you ought to be combating. Is listening to the sublime adagio movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony good for something? And what would that be, to impress people with how cultured you are?

To the philistine's "Philosophy bakes no bread" you should not respond "Yes it does," for such responses are patently lame. You should say, "Man does not live by bread alone," or "Not everything is pursued as a means to something else," or "A university is not a trade school."  You should not acquiesce in the philistine's values and assumptions, but go on the attack and question his values and assumptions.  Put him on the spot.  Play the Socratic gadfly.  If a philistine wants to know how much you got paid for writing an article for a professional journal, say, "Do you really think that only what one is paid to do is worth doing?"  

Admittedly, this is a lofty conception of philosophy and I would hate to have to defend it before the uncomprehending philistines one would expect to find on the typical Board of Regents. But philosophy is what it is, lofty by nature, and if we are to defend it we must do so in a way that does not betray it.

It might be better, though, not to stoop to defend it at all, at least not before the uncomprehending.  It might be better to show contempt and supercilious disdain. Not everyone can be reasoned with, and part of being reasonable is understanding this fact.

Mark Steyn on the Wall Street ‘Occupiers’

Excerpt:

So they are in favor of open borders, presumably so that exotic Third World peasants can perform the labor to which they are noticeably averse. Of the 13 items on that “proposed list of demands,” Demand Four calls for “free college education,” and Demand Eleven returns to the theme, demanding debt forgiveness for all existing student loans. I yield to no one in my general antipathy to the racket that is American college education, but it’s difficult to see why this is the fault of the mustache-twirling robber barons who head up Global MegaCorp, Inc. One sympathizes, of course. It can’t be easy finding yourself saddled with a six-figure debt and nothing to show for it but some watery bromides from the “Transgender and Colonialism” class. Americans collectively have north of a trillion dollars in personal college debt. Say what you like about Enron and, er, Solyndra and all those other evil corporations, but they didn’t relieve you of a quarter-mil in exchange for a master’s in Maya Angelou. So why not try occupying the dean’s office at Shakedown U?

The Lottery Player

Those who play lotteries, by the very fact that they play, demonstrate the irrationality and lack of financial understanding that in many cases would ruin them were they so 'lucky' as to win.  And yet people persist in the illusion that everything would be fine if a huge sum of money were suddenly dumped on their heads: money that they do not deserve and have done nothing to earn; money  that has been taken from their fellow rubes on false pretenses by an illegitimate state apparatus the net effect of which is harmful.

Primum non nocere: first do no harm.  That ought to be, but is not, the first principle of government.

The Religious Predisposition and Predestination

A UK reader e-mails:

In your recent post My Relation to Catholicism, you write; "For a religion to take root in a person, the person must have a religious nature or predisposition to begin with."

If this is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition of becoming, let's say, a Christian, it seems very close to the idea of predestination. Those who have the necessary (and inherent?) predisposition are among the few who have been "chosen" by God. Many others who neither have nor can acquire such a disposition, have no hope of salvation because they cannot will themselves to believe. This seems like an affront to divine justice. Maybe you'll say a few words about the "affront" of predestination as you expand on your religious views.

The truth of what the reader quotes me as saying was brought home to me once again yesterday over lunch with a friend. He is the same age as me, comes from a similar background, and also has a doctorate in philosophy.  From the ages of 6 to 16, he attended a school run by Jesuits .  So, starting as an impressionable first-grader, he was exposed to the full-strength pre-Vatican II Catholic doctrine sans namby-pamby liberal dilution.  And this was in the '50s when distractions and temptations were much less than they are now.  He was an altar boy, indeed the 'head' of the altar boys; he memorized all the Latin responses, and was so good at this that he was paid for his services at weddings and funerals.  But despite the rites, rituals, and indoctrination from an early age, none of it took root in his inner being.  It is not just that he sloughed it off later when pretty girls and other earthly delights proved to be irresistible; he told me that he never took it seriously in the first place.  It was all just a load of hocus-pocus and mumbo-jumbo.

And now I am reminded of Tony Jones from high school days.  He like to invert a favorite saying of St. Dominic Savio.  The saint said, "Death before sin."  Tony wrote in my graduation year book, "Remember my motto, 'Sin before death!'"

So I say that to take a religion, any religion, seriously one must possess an inner disposition, an inner religious sensibility.  Some people are just inherently irreligious in the way others are unmusical or illogical or amoral or not disposed to appreciate poetry.  No amount of indoctrination can make up for the lack.  If you are illogical, no logic course can help you; all such a course can do it is articulate and make explicit the implicit logical understanding that must already be present if one is to profit from the formal study of the subject. If you cannot think in moral categories, if you have no nascent sense of right and wrong, no ethics course can help you.

One consequence of this is that there is no point to discussing religion with the irreligious.  It cannot be anything other than superstitious nonsense to them.  You may as well discuss colors with the color blind, music with the tone deaf, modal logic with those who are blind to modal distinctions. 

Since my point is a general one, applying as it does to any religion, it is distinct from any Christian predestination doctrine.  But if the religion in question is Christianity, then the reader makes an excellent point.  Suppose that salvation is predicated upon one's acceptance of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. Obviously, one cannot even begin to take such a notion seriously in the interior manner alone here in question without having the religious predisposition.  In a theistic framework, a providential God is responsible for whether one has the predisposition or not.  So what I am saying, when situated in a Christian context, does seem to smack of predestination.  I'll end with a quotation from G. R. Evans, Augustine on Evil, Cambridge UP 1982, p. 134, emphasis added:

Augustine sets out for their [certain semi-Pelagians'] inspection the obvious truth that many people hear Christian truth expounded to them, and while some believe, others do not.  There must be a reason why their responses differ.  Augustine suggests that the reason is that God has prepared some but not others (De Praed. Sanct. vi 11). Those who receive the truth are the elect, and those who do not have not been chosen to be Christians.

 That there is predestination, however, strikes me as morally dubious as that guilt is inheritable.