There are two things Karl Marx says about philosophy that I think every philosopher should give some thought to:
(1) Philosophy is to the real world as masturbation is to sex.
(2) The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways. The point, however, is to change it.
I don't think (1) is true of all philosophy, but it is easy to philosophize in such a way that all we are doing is no more than finding our way out of a conceptual maze we have created, a maze that does not tell us anything beyond itself. It would be fun, intellectually, if we got out of the maze, and in a sense this would be solving the problem. But we should also ask: Why does it matter?
As for (2), I am not sure philosophers should always try to change the world. On the other hand, it is not unreasonable to think that some philosophy (such as social and political philosophy, normative ethics, and even some philosophy of mind) has the potential to change the world, though it may take a long time.
(1) and (2) are, of course, related. If one's philosophy is nothing but conceptual masturbation, it should be not expected to be able to change the world.
7/13/2010
7/04/2010
What's wrong with the unexamined life?
According to Socrates, an unexamined life is not worth living. Call this the Socratic view. Some would disagree with the Socratic view, insisting that an unexamined life can be flourishing, fulfilling, satisfying, happy, valuable, meaningful, and hence worth living. Call this the other view. I think the other view is correct, but there is a way of understanding the Socratic view so that it is compatible with the other view.
The Socratic view should be understood against the background of the question "How should I live my life?". Call this the Socratic question. Anyone can ask the Socratic question, but not everyone does ask it. But for a person who has asked the Socratic question, the only way to answer it is to examine her life so far and see how she should move on (or whether she should move on at all). To put it another way, a person who has asked the Socratic question is already self-reflective, and her attempt to answer it consists in having further self-reflection. If she finds an answer to the question and knows how she should live her life, that must also be a life that she thinks is worth living.
The Socratic view is thus true for a person who has asked the Socratic question, for it means no more than that a person cannot answer the question "How should I live my life?" and say, earnestly and firmly, "Yes, my life is worth living!" without having examined her own life.
On this understanding, the Socratic view is thoroughly first-personal. The other view, by contrast, is third-personal. It is possible for a person's life to be considered worth living by others while he himself does not have the belief that his life is worth living because he has not asked the Socratic question.
The Socratic view should be understood against the background of the question "How should I live my life?". Call this the Socratic question. Anyone can ask the Socratic question, but not everyone does ask it. But for a person who has asked the Socratic question, the only way to answer it is to examine her life so far and see how she should move on (or whether she should move on at all). To put it another way, a person who has asked the Socratic question is already self-reflective, and her attempt to answer it consists in having further self-reflection. If she finds an answer to the question and knows how she should live her life, that must also be a life that she thinks is worth living.
The Socratic view is thus true for a person who has asked the Socratic question, for it means no more than that a person cannot answer the question "How should I live my life?" and say, earnestly and firmly, "Yes, my life is worth living!" without having examined her own life.
On this understanding, the Socratic view is thoroughly first-personal. The other view, by contrast, is third-personal. It is possible for a person's life to be considered worth living by others while he himself does not have the belief that his life is worth living because he has not asked the Socratic question.
6/22/2010
Two views of philosophy
The following is David Lewis's characterization of philosophy:
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 preexisting opinions, to any great extent, but only to try to discover ways of expanding them into an orderly system. [...] There is some give-and-take, but not too much: some of us sometimes change our minds on some points of common opinion, if they conflict irremediably with a doctrine that commands our belief by its systematic beauty and its agreement with more important common opinions. (Counterfactuals, p.88)
I am not sure what to make of it. On the one hand, this goes against my conviction that philosophy is by nature self-critical; on the other hand, I have to admit that what Lewis says is true of many philosophers, including himself.
Compare this with the following passage by Foucault:
After all, what would be the value of the passion for knowledge if it resulted only in a certain amount of knowledgeableness and not, in one way or another and to the extent possible, in the knower's straying afield of himself? There are times in life when the question of knowing if one can think differently than one thinks, and perceive differently than one sees, is absolutely necessary if one is to go on looking and reflecting at all. [...] what is philosophy today --- philosophical activity, I mean --- if it is not the critical work that thought brings to bear on itself? In what does it consist, if not the endeavor to know how and to what extent it might be possible to think differently, instead of legitimating what is already known? (The Use of Pleasure, p.8)
I find myself agreeing with Foucault, though I am not sure to what extent philosophical reflection can change one's fundamental world view. Yes, "to the extent possible", but what is that extent? So, this is inspirational, but I am not sure how true it is of actual philosophers.
I am torn between these two views of philosophy.
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 preexisting opinions, to any great extent, but only to try to discover ways of expanding them into an orderly system. [...] There is some give-and-take, but not too much: some of us sometimes change our minds on some points of common opinion, if they conflict irremediably with a doctrine that commands our belief by its systematic beauty and its agreement with more important common opinions. (Counterfactuals, p.88)
I am not sure what to make of it. On the one hand, this goes against my conviction that philosophy is by nature self-critical; on the other hand, I have to admit that what Lewis says is true of many philosophers, including himself.
Compare this with the following passage by Foucault:
After all, what would be the value of the passion for knowledge if it resulted only in a certain amount of knowledgeableness and not, in one way or another and to the extent possible, in the knower's straying afield of himself? There are times in life when the question of knowing if one can think differently than one thinks, and perceive differently than one sees, is absolutely necessary if one is to go on looking and reflecting at all. [...] what is philosophy today --- philosophical activity, I mean --- if it is not the critical work that thought brings to bear on itself? In what does it consist, if not the endeavor to know how and to what extent it might be possible to think differently, instead of legitimating what is already known? (The Use of Pleasure, p.8)
I find myself agreeing with Foucault, though I am not sure to what extent philosophical reflection can change one's fundamental world view. Yes, "to the extent possible", but what is that extent? So, this is inspirational, but I am not sure how true it is of actual philosophers.
I am torn between these two views of philosophy.
6/16/2010
How to read Foucault
I had read a few introductory books on Foucault and did not find any of them very helpful. Yesterday I picked up this one by Jonanna Oksala, entitled How to Read Foucault. and liked it immediately after reading just the first two chapters. It is one of the books in the "How to Read" series published by WW Norton & Company, all of which are fairly short (just around 100 pages).
The book is very clearly written and informative, but what I was most impressed with so far is how quickly it succeeds in presenting Foucault as an intriguing and important thinker. Some of the things it highlights are instructive as to how one should read Foucault's writings. Here is an example:
Foucault once noted in an interview that, while there were truth books and demonstration books, his books were experience books. By this he meant that the experience of reading potentially changed the reader and prevented him from 'always being the same or from having the same relation with things and with others'. (p.24)
This is actually Foucault's own advice, and I am glad that I saw this in Oksala's book before I start to read Foucault's writings.
The book is very clearly written and informative, but what I was most impressed with so far is how quickly it succeeds in presenting Foucault as an intriguing and important thinker. Some of the things it highlights are instructive as to how one should read Foucault's writings. Here is an example:
Foucault once noted in an interview that, while there were truth books and demonstration books, his books were experience books. By this he meant that the experience of reading potentially changed the reader and prevented him from 'always being the same or from having the same relation with things and with others'. (p.24)
This is actually Foucault's own advice, and I am glad that I saw this in Oksala's book before I start to read Foucault's writings.
6/13/2010
Kundera's definition of novel
Here is how Kundera defines "novel" in his The Art of Novel :
The great prose form in which an author thoroughly explores, by means of experimental selves (characters), some great themes of existence.
I like this definition, particularly the idea that characters in a novel are the author's experimental selves.
The great prose form in which an author thoroughly explores, by means of experimental selves (characters), some great themes of existence.
I like this definition, particularly the idea that characters in a novel are the author's experimental selves.
6/02/2010
The paradox of tolerance
It is a truism that anyone who is tolerant is against intolerance. This truism will, however, turn into an apparent paradox if it is put this way: anyone who is tolerant is intolerant of intolerance. It seems that a tolerant person is necessarily intolerant in some respect, and this is supposed to be paradoxical.
I am not sure I understand why this is paradoxical. First of all, it is not clear that a tolerant person has to be tolerant of everything. Tolerance is a matter of degree. Perhaps we have to say that a tolerant person who is intolerant of intolerance is not completely or perfectly tolerant, but it is not paradoxical to say so. Secondly, we may distinguish between reasonable tolerance and unreasonable tolerance, and hold that tolerance of intolerance is unreasonable, and hence that it is all right for a tolerant person to be intolerant of intolerance.
In any case, I doubt that the truism that anyone who is tolerant is against intolerance is equivalent to the apparently paradoxical claim that anyone who is tolerant is intolerant of intolerance. To be tolerant of a view, a value, or an action, one does not have to accept it or agree with it; one only has to refrain from trying to suppress it or interfere with it. So it is possible for one to be against something and still be tolerant of it. I am, for example, against religion, but I am certainly tolerant of it.
The truism is thus not paradoxical, and the apparently paradoxical claim does not seem true. So, where is the paradox?
I am not sure I understand why this is paradoxical. First of all, it is not clear that a tolerant person has to be tolerant of everything. Tolerance is a matter of degree. Perhaps we have to say that a tolerant person who is intolerant of intolerance is not completely or perfectly tolerant, but it is not paradoxical to say so. Secondly, we may distinguish between reasonable tolerance and unreasonable tolerance, and hold that tolerance of intolerance is unreasonable, and hence that it is all right for a tolerant person to be intolerant of intolerance.
In any case, I doubt that the truism that anyone who is tolerant is against intolerance is equivalent to the apparently paradoxical claim that anyone who is tolerant is intolerant of intolerance. To be tolerant of a view, a value, or an action, one does not have to accept it or agree with it; one only has to refrain from trying to suppress it or interfere with it. So it is possible for one to be against something and still be tolerant of it. I am, for example, against religion, but I am certainly tolerant of it.
The truism is thus not paradoxical, and the apparently paradoxical claim does not seem true. So, where is the paradox?
5/24/2010
Hume's best remark on religion and philosophy
Yesterday I had to reread the conclusion of Book I of Hume's A Treatise of Human Nature and saw this wonderful remark on religion and philosophy:
Generally speaking, the errors in religion are dangerous; those in philosophy only ridiculous.
I certainly had read this remark before and liked it, but I didn't remember it. So when I was rereading it, it was as if I was reading it the first time and I was able to experience anew the feeling of being deeply impressed. It was a wonderful feeling.
Generally speaking, the errors in religion are dangerous; those in philosophy only ridiculous.
I certainly had read this remark before and liked it, but I didn't remember it. So when I was rereading it, it was as if I was reading it the first time and I was able to experience anew the feeling of being deeply impressed. It was a wonderful feeling.
5/18/2010
Berkeley's reminder
Lately I have been thinking a lot about Berkeley's famous remark on philosophy:
We have first raised a dust and then complain we cannot see.
I have become more and more convinced that most published philosophy nowadays, probably including my own writings, fits this description.
I am suffering from intellectual self-doubt; what I doubt is not my intellectual abilities, but my intellectual activities and their products. I am feeling a bit lost; I need a new direction.
We have first raised a dust and then complain we cannot see.
I have become more and more convinced that most published philosophy nowadays, probably including my own writings, fits this description.
I am suffering from intellectual self-doubt; what I doubt is not my intellectual abilities, but my intellectual activities and their products. I am feeling a bit lost; I need a new direction.
5/06/2010
Polygamy and infidelity
Adam Phillips again. Here is what he says about monogamy that I find quite interesting:
Like a magnet that collects our virtues and vices, monogamy makes the larger abstractions real, as religion once did. Faith, hope, trust, morality; these are domestic matters now. Indeed, we contrast monogamy not with bigamy or polygamy but with infidelity, because it is our secular religion. God may be dead, but the faithful couple won't lie down. (Monogamy, p.10)
There are indeed people whose understanding of monogamy comes from their religion, but Phillips are not talking about them. What he suggests is that people, including (or particularly) those who do not have a religion, need monogamy the way they need religion.
This sounds to me an exaggeration. I do think, however, he is right that we contrast monogamy with infidelity. This raises a question: How is infidelity in polygamy different from infidelity in monogamy? In polygamy, when the husband (or the wife if it is polyandry) is unfaithful, he is unfaithful to more than one person. Is it worse than, or not as bad as, being unfaithful to just one person as in the case of infidelity in monogamy? Conversely, when one of the wives is unfaithful, can we say that she is unfaithful only to part of the husband because she shares him with his other wives? If we can say that, should we also say that her infidelity is not as bad as that in monogamy?
Like a magnet that collects our virtues and vices, monogamy makes the larger abstractions real, as religion once did. Faith, hope, trust, morality; these are domestic matters now. Indeed, we contrast monogamy not with bigamy or polygamy but with infidelity, because it is our secular religion. God may be dead, but the faithful couple won't lie down. (Monogamy, p.10)
There are indeed people whose understanding of monogamy comes from their religion, but Phillips are not talking about them. What he suggests is that people, including (or particularly) those who do not have a religion, need monogamy the way they need religion.
This sounds to me an exaggeration. I do think, however, he is right that we contrast monogamy with infidelity. This raises a question: How is infidelity in polygamy different from infidelity in monogamy? In polygamy, when the husband (or the wife if it is polyandry) is unfaithful, he is unfaithful to more than one person. Is it worse than, or not as bad as, being unfaithful to just one person as in the case of infidelity in monogamy? Conversely, when one of the wives is unfaithful, can we say that she is unfaithful only to part of the husband because she shares him with his other wives? If we can say that, should we also say that her infidelity is not as bad as that in monogamy?
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