The Problem with Philosophy (qua Discipline)

The problem of philosophy as a historical practice, or discipline, handed down through institution is that it has a great tendency to lose its problems.  It loses them to such an extent that there are often concerns of whether there are any problems at all in philosophy.  The institution may preserve the name 'philosophy' but no philosophy (as an activity) is guaranteed to be present in it.

The history of philosophy contains plenty of problems (in proposition form), and these seem to be the things that are most easily discoverable.  A beginning course in philosophy always attempts to raise some metaphysical doubts, questioning what we can know to be true, or if there are external things, or if we exist, &c.  But, for those that first posed these problems, the problems only found their expression in propositions after struggling with an anxiety that had to be wrestled into place.  These problems, encoded into propositions, are handed down as the problems of philosophy, however this is insufficient: the proposition does not preserve the subjective state of affection required for the problems: the propositions do not preserve the anxiety that is required to grasp their scope, and the real conditions for their solution (the resolution of the anxiety).

(I do not here make philosophical problems into mental disturbances, but simply note that we cannot notice our problems, or their resolution, without a more intuitive standard.)

Once inheriting these propositions, we seem to find it sufficient to deal with them in logical terms that are only suited to evaluate the consistency of statements, and not help recover the problem (the anxiety) any more.  Those that participate in philosophy have their own anxiety, however, and not connecting their anxieties with those of others, and guided by this personal anxiety, formulate their own resolutions to these problems to their own satisfaction.  Often because the language of the objective world is borrowed (since this language often feels required to relieve our anxiety), these solutions conflict with those of the past.  Dogmatic metaphysics emerges in this manner.

Philosophy will never find its center until it begins to recover those basic problems that run through it, and preserve its real order and continuity, and contain direction for its real truth, that would otherwise pass unnoticed on the surface in the presence of continual debate.  Much of the importance of Kant is exclusively in an attempt at providing future philosophy an understanding of its own problems, and the possibility of its problems (the possibility of the natural disposition to metaphysics).  (Heidegger seems to have taken up this challenge more exclusively.)

Rather than restating philosophical problems from the history of philosophy as if it was obvious that they are problems, beginning philosophy courses should strive to induce the real anxiety required for entering into these problems, and generating the sort of statements off these problems originally that would be required to understand past statements of them.  This way the history of philosophical thought will not just be a wasteland where thoughts are criticized in a quite superficial manner.

(There is a certain concern I have with religious traditions: that the wisdom of the past generation provides formulas that actually prevent the future generations from admitting the problems required for understanding religious feeling.  I believe that this sort of phenomena was treated by Kierkegaard in the Concept of Anxiety with a special concern for hereditary sin, and how this has us overlook how each of us - and not just Adam - bring sin into the world ourselves.)

Philosophy is not the only place where this problem exists, but it may be the only discipline that can't get off the ground and take its proper place as a result.  For example, mathematics has direction for its problems, and has advanced consistently.  However, education in mathematics does not produce mathematicians (who are truly very few), since it doesn't provide a real understanding of the problems of mathematics, and only provides a guide for correctness of results from computation (until one proceeds far enough).  This leads to revealing humor, such as the joke about doctors in math being unable to calculate their share of a bill.  This humor is revealing because the actual problems of mathematics do not start or end with computation.  The joke is on us for not realizing that this humor reveals that what we teach under the name of mathematics is no such thing.

In physics as well we find steady and regular progress, however, students of physics are left to standards of correctness of computations, and application of principles.  Physics is not principally concerned with computation: computation is merely a means for physics for testing and reforming theory.  

The genuine problems of a discipline, which always manifest in anxiety originally, should be a much larger matter of concern to educators that are interested in opening up a field to a student, and not merely running them through the algorithms of correctness.  Correctness is something we demand, but it is not itself a primary goal.

On Making the Best of Differences

As a reader and writer of fiction I can't help but take interest in the wealth of learning that one can gleam from reading inventions.  This is no less true for inventions that are supposed to be non-fiction.

Often I witness, or am involved in, personal conflicts that involve actual occurances (as they were remembered, at least), and there is a dispute about what actually happened.  In such disputes, I typically find little value in settling the 'facts' of the matter (the intentions involved, the words said).  Instead, I find that accepting all acccounts and taking them in turn in order to all learn from each is a much better course.

Why are we so concerned with finding fault, and holding people responsible at every turn?  Our instinct (or habituation) to retrubutive justice hurts us here. Why not take a primary interest in improving together, and - without needing to acknowledge fault - all find ways in which we can help each other?

This attitude may stem from my approach to interpreting philosophy.  My interest in reading the history of philosophy is to gleam how other people have tried to reconcile themselves with reality and their own finitude.  Even if the philosopher is presenting something that isn't critical or systematic, this is no reason to think that I cannot come to understand the sort of demands that were being faced through their solution, and that I cannot learn from this by reflecting on the demands I face from my own finitude.

Navigating Differences in Interpretation in Non-Philological Discussions

   Recently I was in a discussion with a group.  The topic for the evening was, "Why is Kant taken to be so important, specifically concerning epistemology."  There was one member of the discussion who's interpretation of Kant's position widely differed from the rest of the group, and it produced a lot of friction in trying to move the discussion towards the topic ("Why is Kant taken to be important").  I want to offer my reflections on how to avoid these sorts of difficulties.

   When discussing an interpretation of a philosopher there is a difference between being the philosopher we are interpreting, and not being that philosopher.  In most cases of philology, we are not the philosopher we are interpreting .  Our positions about Kant, Plato, Descartes, &c are all from the standpoint of not being them.  

   As philologists of thinkers such as those mentioned, we can see that our interpretations are the results of all of the encounters we have had with the thinker directly (primary sources) and indirectly (secondary sources) and through our own reflection on the matter.  It's very difficult to accurately construct how we have attained the understanding we have in a historical way, and I think we should be happy acknowledging that we may not give the most accurate reconstruction of our own psychologies when reading thinkers.  However, this does not need to be a barrier to discussions about philology, it should just be part of the conditions of that discussion.

   As I mentioned, there was someone who was disagreeing with the entire assembly about interpretation, and that we were unable to attend to the discussion as planned since we were embroiled in this dispute.  If we had acknowledged that our interpretations each had different histories in their construction, then we should realize that all of us are necessarily going to give a different story of why Kant is important for reasons concerning epistemology.

   Rather than debating interpretation we should have simply agreed to each express what was important about Kant's contribution to epistemology.

   If the discussion had been about who's philology was correct, then we would have been justified in our dispute.

   The  prescription  that I am recommending for these case is: mindful about the topic of discussion and to consider the justification of the dispute in light of the goal.  'Importance' (qua interest in something) is not a constitutive element of objects, and so not something to dispute over objectively.

Guideline for Concrete Philosophical Interpretation

(In reply to a discussion I wrote this description of my method. I will modify it and represent it here. The original is here.)

   My practice of interpretation has been the most concrete result of any of my work in philosophy. The individuals who have had the greatest impact have been teachers, philosophers, and particular revelations from philosophical methods I have encountered (critical method of Kant and Phenomenology of Heidegger being two of the most important). The following is a description of my interpretive process in some general terms. I hope that it can do something to reveal what is at stake when I engage with a text. I also hope that this can help me to continue to develop explicitly what interpretation entails as certain holes in my process are inevitably pointed out to me. (I have tried to put my assumptions in bold as they occur.)
   I am studying Philosopher X who has position Y.  I am interested in interpreting position Y.  This means I already have an interpretation which is called into question.  Some key assumptions I make as I proceed in my reinterpretation are as follows: first, that position Y was actually maintained by Philosopher X; second, that positions that are internally contradictory cannot be maintained by anyone.
   My next move is to consider if position Y is making an a priori or a posteriori claim. If a posteriori, then I can see what sorts of empirical knowledge would be required to maintain the point. I can usually determine if some relevant facts were not available or overlooked, but in this case I can easily understand how position Y was maintained with the outstanding evidence. If, however, I take the claim to be a priori, then I will continue considering the position in a different manner.
   A proof of something a priori always has a starting point that is analyzed as regards what is necessary for it. For our example, this starting point will be called 'object' Z.  (The result of such analysis can be a priori and still involve empirical concepts, or purely a priori and contain no empirical concepts; I will assume that we are dealing with a purely a priori case.)  There are two general ways that an analysis of 'object' Z, regarding what is purely a priori in it, can err: first, that the analysis may mistakenly included empirical concepts as part of its purely a priori result, and then used them in the derivation of position Y; second, that the 'object' Z was not fixed, and changed over the course of the analysis.  The analysis of Philosopher X's analysis burdens me with an additional question now. What is Z?
   Z is the 'object' that Philosopher X analyzed such that they were constrained to maintain position Y.  Now, this still leaves open the possibility that position Y is maintained in error, but if I am to understand the error I need to have a clear interpretation of Z in order to characterize the error as one of analysis (including empirical concepts as a priori ) or inconsistency in the object (first analyzing one thing, then later another, for the purposes of one conclusion).  Unless it is very clear that one of these errors has been committed, I will assume that it has not pending further consideration.  (Incidentally, I find these errors are rarely committed.)
   In order to have found position Y to be false, we must implicitly have an interpretation of 'object' Z that leads to an inconsistency with our understanding of position Y.  We could have misinterpreted position Y, or we could have misinterpreted 'object' Z, or both (usually if one is off, the other is too). Because of my first two assumptions (first, that position Y was actually maintained by Philosopher X, second, that positions that are internally contradictory cannot be maintained by anyone) I have at least a misinterpretation of 'object' Z or position Y (and in either case a misunderstanding of Philosopher X).
   From here comes a series of interpretive experiments and data gathering. I will re-examine definitions, look for hints of what 'object' Z is, look at explicit statements about what is being attempted in the section and even work and corpus, examine position Y again, consider in relation to similar positions, consider comments that Philosopher X makes concerning positions they mean to contradict, look at how they address criticisms of their position.
   Depending on what my experimenting uncovers, I may deem it necessary, ex hypothesis, to reinterpret position Y in a way that makes it consistent with 'object' Z as its starting point, or reinterpret 'object' Z such that position Y is a valid conclusion from it. Both of these scenarios leave open the possibility of position Y being ultimately something I would not maintain, though I will understand clearly on what basis I do not maintain it. If this is the case, then I consider further what it is about these (usually 'object' Z) that I have difficulty maintaining. What has gone unsaid about 'object' Z or position Y that I can further derive with my current understanding? Do any of these conflict with what Philosopher X has said? If so, I should probably reconsider something.
   New evidence can cause me to re-evaluate any of these steps I have mentioned from the very start. This sort of interpretation takes a considerable amount of effort and patience, but I have also found it to be very rewarding. This has been my procedure while studying Kant, and it has resulted in what I find to be a very good reading that I would not consider charitable, but rather consistent with, and mindful of, what has been said. Kant is really the most complete interpretation I have of any thinker, but it is still incredible to me how much room there is still to re-evaluate it. Also, there are many other figures in the history of philosophy who are involved in such an interpretive process: Plato, Heidegger, Gelven, Descartes, Leibniz, Nietzsche, Hegel, as well as countless others. These figures I frequently compare, not to belittle any position by something similar that came before, but as a way of letting philosophers clarify each other, both where they seem to agree and where they seem to disagree.
   My interpretations do not advance with a goal of vindicating a philosopher or not, but with enabling myself with the highest quality interpretations I can so I can continue my own work in the presence of these thinkers. At the end of the day, my work involves being thoughtful about my own life, and for this I will take as many friends as I can while trying not to lean on any of them.

Reflections on Philosophical Interpretation - I

   In order to help me to write more I have decided to start writing some reflections on Philosophical Interpretation.  I hope that these can be helpful for generating some talk on the blog about our engagements with text and each other.

   My study of Kant has afforded many benefits; one of the earliest I can remember was concerning the interpretation of earlier philosophers.  As a young undergraduate it was very easy for me to scoff as soon as ‘God’ appeared in an argument.  While studying the modern period in a history course I found that I had this reaction consistently in regards to Rationalists, whereas I found the Empiricists much more agreeable.  At this point in my work I have had a complete about face.  It isn’t that I have started to doubt the Empiricists (hereafter referred to as Quitters) but I have found that their project does not have the same depth as the Rationalists (hereafter referred to as Crazies).
   At the same time I was taking this history class I was also taking my first course on Kant, and was quite impressed with what I was finding.  The Quitters were certainly more agreeable to me, but I found that they were not quite working as hard as Kant who was not happy to simply stop at habit as Hume was.  What I see now is that this extra struggle that Kant put himself through ultimately relates him much closer to the Crazies – not in their method or conclusions, but in their concerns.  
   My first study of the Critique of Pure Reason had a profound impact on which concerns are proper to examine in philosophy, and which concerns are an embarrassment.  Kant had shown that there was real substance to the discussion of soul, world, immortality, freedom and even God.  Of course, these terms had come to have an entirely different meaning for me, as well as a rich context in which their consideration thrived.  The former usage and context remained, but I was less interested in my old concern with them.  Once I had mulled this over, and with the addition of another course on Kant just concerning his Practical Philosophy, I had found looking back at the Crazies and wondering if they were on to something, if they really did have the same concerns as Kant but poorly represented themselves.  Over the years, I continue to go back to Descartes, Spinoza and Leibniz to find inspiration in their enthusiasm and unique struggles with these concerns.
   The lesson learned here can be expressed as becoming interested in what matters to people; only after knowing what matters to a person does it make sense to engage arguments that attempt to pursue those concerns. And if my interpretation finds a problem in an argument, I often find that such problems are resolved by once again attending to what the concerns are.  Often that means that arguments are nothing but a way of trying to divine what matters.
   This component of my technique in philosophizing has been greatly helpful for furthering discussions that would otherwise have been impossible, and for keeping in mind my own concerns so that I can properly express myself according to what matters and not just some clever argument.  In practice, this has also been easy for others I know to adopt and benefit from.