Short film #2 in Phillip McReynolds‘s American Philosopher series offers a few pieces of information that divide up into histories of the early lives of contemporary American philosophers and the early life of philosophy in historic America. The former, tales about the temptations of philosophy in the early lives of modern thinkers, makes up the majority of the segment’s 10 minutes. It offers a good potopourri of experiences which led those interviewed into the “life of the mind”–ranging from those whose privileged and intellectually-amiable environments invited the depth of thought to those hardships or lack of privilege seemed to demand it. Many of their stories sound as if they would be quite interesting, if they were more thoroughly fleshed out. There were a few noticeable themes (each with exceptions) among the stories, such as an initial interest in pursuing religious questions or the experience of the befuddled parent when each philosopher broached his or her intended career choice.

All in all, I don’t think much of what was revealed was unexpected. I have seriously considered academic philosophy, and my gateway into such considerations stem from my personal experiences with both ends of the experiential gamut described by these philosophers. For instance, on the one hand, I grew up in an environment wherein thought was considered something to be nurtured. This is one of the best privileges youth can be given, in my humble opinion¹. I think this kind of philosophical thought reflects the traditional Aristotelian sentiment that philosophy begins in wonder. When allowed and encouraged to think philosophically, these thoughts and the concomitant practical manifestations of their realization are rewards which encourage yet more reflection. I only wish more youth had these experiences growing up.

The second general category of experiences which led those interviewed to lean philosophical relate to observed and felt problems or injustices. This type of motivation better reflects Simon Critchley’s assertion that “Philosophy begins in disappointment.”. People see or experience something which seems at odds with the notion of a just or moral universe, and they need to explain it in order to feel that it can be ameliorated (or perhaps simply to cope).

While I suspect that it was the latter of these two options which more closely describes my experience (at a young age, I was deeply affected by certain historical moral failures of humanity, not to mention a few salient tangible examples of contemporary moral and economic inequity), once again I am tempted to take the both/neither approach to conceiving of these two different motivations for engaging philosophical thought. If anything, philosophical thought—and I would like to emphasize American philosophy in particular here—has to do with coming to conceive of the wonder of experiences while simultaneously recognizing the deficiencies of the world. In other words, we can conceptualize moral ideals, be amazed by the capabilities of the human mind, and feel awe of nature yet we also witness moral failure, mental error, and destruction and disorder. It better characterizes philosophy, I think, to say it begins in realizing the discrepancy between the ideal (and experienced) wonder and the actualized experienced disappointment.

From the sound of these interviews, it sounds like most of these thinkers began struggling with these sorts of issues at a very young age.  Part of me finds this a bit discouraging, actually.  Although I did get a bit of philosophy early on in life (Somehow, I took it upon myself to read² Robert Nozick’s Anarchy, the State, and Utopia when I was in middle school.  There were a few other odd text tidbits I picked up in high school, but I distinctly remember remember not knowing who Plato was my freshman year of college).  This is partially disheartening because it makes me feel a bit behind in the race for deep-enough philosophical thought, but I find it worrisome much moreso because I fear that many who were not encouraged to think deeply at an early age will have great difficulty conceptualizing things critically later on in life…and, yes, I do know that this is dangerously close to the fallacy of denying the antecedent.

The last little chunk of this mini-film discusses the first American philosophers.  They begin with a good candidate, Jonathan Edwards (b. 1703) and skip all the way to Ralph Waldo Emerson (b. 1803–a century later).  While this I think agreement on this is pretty widespread, I’m tempted to say there must be some other major philosophical figures, especially political-philosophical figures, who qualify as American philosophers.  I’d love to hear some good suggestions on who they might be and what how they made sense of their worlds.  Surely, as implied by the close relationship anecdotally drawn between religious thought and philosophy in the examples of these interviewees, there were a few creative ministers or theologians who qualify as searching for philosophical answers to the “big questions”.  I have found this Dictionary of Early American Philosophers to page through, but it all seems a slough of names at this point.  Suggestions are welcome.

There are a couple of nice little nuggets I’d like to pull out of this second video of American Philosopher.  First, I was excited to see the late John E. Smith join the video as an interviewee, though he seemed not to be mentioned in the teaser.  Smith was a great distiller of good information, and his work Spirit of American Philosophy has much merit.  That said, I am a bit skeptical about the claims he makes about the origin and character of archetypal American philosophy.  While it’s easy to see that pragmatism as an trend more readily absorbed into American academia.  Here are some of the claims from the film blurbs that I’ll address in kind.

• “I think our practicality had so much to do with our need to subdue a continent.” –Smith
• “I don’t think that pragmatism would ever have existed without the USA.  I just don’t think it could have developed on the soil of European philosophy at that time.” –Sartwell
• “There’s a tendency among Americans to want to solve problems.” –Lachs

While I’m all for American philosophy and the laudable insights of pragmatism, phrases like this go a bit too far.  Sure, the American context may have been conducive to the flourishing of practical thought, but to say that America is the only possible progenitor of this thought is narrow-minded.  I think already in the time of Ancient Greek philosophy there are some decent examples of a pragmatic turn (Aristotle expresses a number of these characteristics).  Roman philosophy expresses a bit of this tendency, as do a number of aspects of Eastern philosophies (of which there is an implicit, almost chauvanistic, dismissal in Sartwell’s comment).  Furthermore, there is a sense in which Europe was already leaning towards a practical form of Existentialism (evident in Nietzsche and Heidegger, I think), and now the continent has their own pragmatists (Habermas, Vattimo, etc.).  I sincerely doubt Americans want to solve problems more than people in other countries, nor are they necessarily in general more practical.  My sense is that what got America a reputation for solving problems and being pragmatic is simply that a few of the proponents of such ideas found their way into higher academia and were accepted anyway¹.  America is great and we’ve had some great philosophical insights, but let’s not give ourselves too much credit or resort to denying the possibility of historical counterfactuals wherein we didn’t provide such thought.

More interesting to me were Bernstein’s reflections on the relevance of philosophy to the American practicality (as opposed to the relevance of practicality to it’s philosophy).  It is actually surprising, if the textbooks are to be believed, that philosophical thought (particularly Enlightenment European philosophy) would have had such a powerful influence on the statebuilding process.  The founding fathers myths and stories are dripping with tales of inspiring figures with particular philosophical ideas conjoined with the concomitant practicality required to compromise where necessary to make them effective.  Likewise, American history is at least characterized as following a trajectory of philosophical self-awareness at the time of various social revolutions.  As Bernstein put it, “you couldn’t make any sense of America without understanding philosophy.  Very frequently the most significant progressive moments in American life is a coming together of a certain kind of practical-idealism.”  I nearly laughed when I heard the start of this sentence, but Bernstein, Anderson, Campbell, and Anne Rose (also not mentioned in the teaser) actually make a pretty decent, if succinct, case for this idea that philosophy is actually relevant to progress in American culture ².  I have elsewhere read exchanges between Bernstein and Rorty arguing more broadly on this topic–whether philosophy really has the ability to impact culture.  I have always thought that whether or not it was true (I suspect it is) that Bernstein’s position is the more “pragmatic”; in other words, it is good for us to at least act like philosophy can influence culture and human progress.  Nobody is arguing that it can provide insight, so there is no need to dismiss the possibility that that insight can have a fruitful consequential bearing on our practical experiences unless we have a more effective replacement.

Also interesting was the brief defense of philosophy as a bastion of practicality.  John Sturh and David Vessey (both uncredited in the teaser video) made this point by essentially stating that philosophy is the only discipline that really systematically gravitates towards questions of what we ought to do–or how our choices and actions can be used to alter ourselves and our world.  It’s certainly an argument I would love to flesh out more in discussion.

In the end, I think SIU Carbondale’s Randy Auxier really does the best job of giving a good “American character” to the conception of the American Philosopher:

It’s not the Anglo- or European- American experience; it just includes that.  It includes the Native American experience.  It includes the African American experience.  And all of these things come together to form the context of insight, intuition, and experience that gives rise to the philosophy.  You couldn’t have Ralph Waldo Emerson without the combined influence of all of those different traditions.  There is something in Pragmatism and American Personalism, American Idealism, and even in process philosophy that expresses the American experience.  The thing that I would say characterizes that most adequately has to do with a certain–not only practicality–but a certain assumption about the inseparability of the way a person lives and the way a person thinks. –Auxier

While Auxier is guilty of a few simplifications about what could have caused what, he does a good job of capturing the complexity and variety of “American” philosophy in a way that neither dilutes its definition to the point of meaninglessness nor narrowly overemphasizes specific content…other than the fact that this implicitly cuts the cord between so-called American philosophy and the defacto standard of philosophy in America, contemporary analytic thought.  Sartwell also has a quoteable nugget right at the end of this short which hints at many of the same assumptions:

I think the way I have tried to answer some philosophical questions has changed the way live…or, the way I live has changed my answers to philosophical questions.

The artificially spliced in editorial comment from Lachs, “That’s very American”, couldn’t have been a more apropos way to end the short film.

The cause of Sense, is the Externall Body, or Object, which
presseth the organ proper to each Sense, either immediatly,
as in the Tast and Touch; or mediately, as in Seeing, Hearing,
and Smelling: which pressure, by the mediation of Nerves, and other
strings, and membranes of the body, continued inwards to the Brain,
and Heart, causeth there a resistance, or counter-pressure,
or endeavour of the heart, to deliver it self: which endeavour
because Outward, seemeth to be some matter without.  And this Seeming,
or Fancy, is that which men call sense; and consisteth, as to the Eye,
in a Light, or Colour Figured; To the Eare, in a Sound; To the Nostrill,
in an Odour; To the Tongue and Palat, in a Savour; and to the rest
of the body, in Heat, Cold, Hardnesse, Softnesse, and such other qualities,
as we discern by Feeling.  All which qualities called Sensible,
are in the object that causeth them, but so many several motions
of the matter, by which it presseth our organs diversly.  Neither in
us that are pressed, are they anything els, but divers motions;
(for motion, produceth nothing but motion.)  But their apparence to
us is Fancy, the same waking, that dreaming.  And as pressing, rubbing,
or striking the Eye, makes us fancy a light; and pressing the Eare,
produceth a dinne; so do the bodies also we see, or hear, produce
the same by their strong, though unobserved action

The absurdity, to me, was not merely that Hobbes thought that he had figured out the mechanisms that ruled over our senses and feelings simply by expanding simple principles of interaction of bodies.  Rather, I laughed because I thought it was preposterous that Hobbes thought to account for non-physical things, like emotions and mental activity, by means of materialist mumbo-jumbo.

Leviathan, cover from wikimedia.org

Curiously, I was simultaneously quite sincerely open to, if not entirely credulous of, the findings of modern psychological studies which played the exact same role–namely, making the naturalist presumption that those things which seem incorporeal (like thoughts, sensory data, and emotions) could be studied as causes of simple physical interactions observable, for instance, by means tools like nMRI.  Modern naturalist science (I’m convinced that naturalism is not in any way definitional of science, but rather a mere ubiquitous presumption of modern scientists and the in-vogue scientific paradigms) simply has a more complex version of Hobbes’ materialism.  Rather than simply positing that something “preseth on the eye”, biologists a conception of our senses as the products of a complex of chemical and physical interactions which can all be reduced, theoretically, to a naturalistic incarnation of particle physics.

Each of these two perspectives–Hobbesian materialism and modern naturalist science–has issues with the classical Cartesian mind/body dualism.  What I considered incredible in the Hobbesian perspective, I should recall, is not the given dualism ” between two sorts of ‘stuff’, material and immaterial” (as Rorty calls it), but was once an idea marked more by its novelty than its broad acceptance.  With what reasons did dualism replace materialism as the dominant metaphysical structural assumption?  Certainly a number of enticing dualist metaphysical systems exist, and we might have good reason/s–logical or practical–to accept any of these.  I am not convinced that this dualism is essentially reasonable (or for that matter, if it is, that it is reasonable that we should assume that the non-material side of this dualism should have laws similar to our empirically-derived laws for the natural world); I am likewise not convinced that the material dualism has any cogent appeal over metaphysical tri-ism, quad-ism, or infinit-isms (do metaphysicians have terms for these?), other than theoretical parsimony.

Rorty speaketh

Richard Rorty opens Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, Chapter 1 with this to say about dualism:

Discussions in the philosophy of mind usually start off by assuming that everybody has always known how to divide the world into the mental and the physical–that this distinction is common-sensical and intuitive, even if that between two sorts of “stuff”, material and immaterial, is  philosophical and baffling”

While I don’t think that this position is completely fair or accurate, Rorty’s point is well-made.  If we need a dozen or more metaphysical systems for bridging that “between” in the mind/body dualism–epiphenominalism, parallelism, occasionalism, and their ilk–and the whole dualist project is so difficult for us to fine-tune, what makes this dualism seem so obvious?  I suspect Rorty is not just being eristic when he implies that its our dogmatic entrenchment which makes this dualism seem natural, not some objectively-apparent metaphysical substructure.  This dogmatic entrenchment, I think, is what made Hobbes’ materialist metaphysics seem so quaint and rediculous; meanwhile, my dogmatic entrenchment in the authority of modern scientific findings allowed me to provisionally accept a sort of materialist perspective.  Perhaps it is unfair of me to so readily accept one while simultaneously poo-poo-ing the other.

I enjoy Rorty’s criticism of this dualism, but I think my position is still largely gauche to his.  We should not ignore the predominant metaphysical assumption of dualism–nor, conversely, the metaphysical (or physical) presumption of monism/materialism (or other metaphysical -isms).  We simply ought to be aware of, but not necessarily strictly opposed to, our dogmatic assumptions.  Likewise, we should take note when our various presumptions do not jibe well.  Do we assume dualism, yet affirm the findings of research that presumes or requires monism?  If so, is it merely the result of the brute cultural force of one over the other, or are there good reasons for believing both?  Certainly we might simply mean “monism” and “dualism” in different ways.  Dualisms, of course, may be distinctions between “subtances”, “properties”, or “predicates”, among other things; or perhaps it is fair of us to utilize dualist assumptions in a monist reality or monist assumptions in a dualist reality, if they get us the practical results we desire in some parsimonious way in some areas.  In the same way that we still utilize Newton’s laws for some gravity calculations, despite the existence of more precise post-Einstein calculations, it may simply be the best to use one or the other as a tool.  By this point you surely have figured out that this is my pragmatic proposition for an approach to metaphysics; It is my belief that a “dualism assumption awareness” campaign is much more likely to give us the results we desire than a “dualist-smashing” campaign which it seems to me Rorty is using to get us to agree to presume materialism for pragmatic purposes (corrections/comments greatly appreciated!).

No doubt that one of the most salient sources of the flak that philosophers receive from others is that they are willing to engage in serious discussion about otherwise seemingly worthless minutiae–apparently that includes pragmatists, too.  However, when I happened again upon this piece by William James, I simply could not keep myself from asking a few hair-splitting questions.

From William James What Pragmatism Means: Lecture II [1909]

Some years ago, being with a camping party in the mountains, I returned from a solitary ramble to find every one engaged in a ferocious metaphysical dispute. The corpus of the dispute was a squirrel – a live squirrel supposed to be clinging to one side of a tree-trunk; while over against the tree’s opposite side a human being was imagined to stand. This human witness tries to get sight of the squirrel by moving rapidly round the tree, but no matter how fast he goes, the squirrel moves as fast in the opposite direction, and always keeps the tree between himself and the man, so that never a glimpse of him is caught. The resultant metaphysical problem now is this: Does the man go round the squirrel or not? He goes round the tree, sure enough, and the squirrel is on the tree; but does he go round the squirrel? In the unlimited leisure of the wilderness, discussion had been worn threadbare. Every one had taken sides, and was obstinate; and the numbers on both sides were even. Each side, when I appeared therefore appealed to me to make it a majority. Mindful of the scholastic adage that whenever you meet a contradiction you must make a distinction, I immediately sought and found one, as follows: “Which party is right,” I said, “depends on what you practically mean by ‘going round’ the squirrel. If you mean passing from the north of him to the east, then to the south, then to the west, and then to the north of him again, obviously the man does go round him, for he occupies these successive positions. But if on the contrary you mean being first in front of him, then on the right of him, then behind him, then on his left, and finally in front again, it is quite as obvious that the man fails to go round him, for by the compensating movements the squirrel makes, he keeps his belly turned towards the man all the time, and his back turned away. Make the distinction, and there is no occasion for any farther dispute. You are both right and both wrong according as you conceive the verb ‘to go round’ in one practical fashion or the other.”

While I appreciate James’ attempt to illustrate pragmatism by example in this case, I think this is a great opportunity to nitpick a bit, hopefully to better elucidate the meaning and uses of pragmatism.

I have a few outstanding criticisms of James’ use of this story above.  First, I am not confident that when James says “depends on what you practically mean by ‘going round’ the squirrel” [emphasis mine], that the word practically brings any additional meaning its sentence, given the assumption that the rest of James’ paragraph is the explanation of what might be meant practically.  In other words, James might just as well have said that it “depends on what you mean by ‘going round’ the squirrel”, because there is no difference in meaning between the two sentences.  When William James goes on to describe the two potential definitions for “going round”, he supplies definitions which do not really touch on the pragmatic nature of the situation.  Each definition is, it seems to me*, metaphysical–as is the question of going round the squirrel (*for the sake of simplicity, I’m proposing a metaphysical v. pragmatic dichotomy here, let’s not bring language/psychology/etc. into the equation).

This is not to say, however, that a pragmatic distinction cannot be made for this metaphysical squirrel question.  Indeed, it seems to me that a clarification drawn between what our squirrel-watching friends “mean” and what they “practically mean” might help us get a better grasp on pragmatism, if we can simply get away from the positions James offers us.

I will begin by examining James’ two potential definitions for “going round” the squirrel.

“Going Round”

First, James says one approach is to claim that going round said squirrel means “being first in front of him, then on the right of him, then behind him, then on his left, and finally in front again”.  My complaint with this description is that it does not satisfy what we expect when we say “going round”; to illustrate this, I’ve composed a little animation (go easy on me, it’s my first attempt ever) which shows a man–William James himself, actually– “going round a squirrel” by this definition:

apposite version of James going round a squirrel

I suspect most people will agree that this does not really illustrate what we mean when we say “going round”; therefore, James’ apposite approach to defining the motion is unsuccessful.  I should say that there are other options for satisfying the conditions of this apposite definition, but they are more difficult to animate.

Now on to the directional approach to defining “going round”.  I have made another animation in a like manner to illustrate a scenario that falls within the bounds of James description “passing from the north of him to the east, then to the south, then to the west, and then to the north of him again”:

directional version of James going round a squirrel

Again, I think most of us will agree that this is not what is meant by going round, and, again, this is only one animation of a number of possible configurations.

So…what’s the point?

My intent, here, was not merely to disapprove of William James’ options for defining a man going round a squirrel.  Rather, it is to question whether merely defining things in simple relations to each other–and abstracted from the reality of motives and consequences–presents us with metaphysical answers, not pragmatic answers (pragmatic in both the sense of philosophy and of practical use).

My alternative approach, and one which seems to me more indicative of the goals of pragmatism (please correct me if I am wrong), is that the definition of “going round” can be precise, but it must be fluid depending on our ends, our experiences and knowledge, and the prospective consequences of the ends and knowledge which we bring to the table.  I’ll attempt to make this clearer with a quick and dirty example.

A truly pragmatic distinction in meaning requires application.  In this sense, we might need not only to “go round the squirrel”, but to “go round the squirrel for [some reason] “.  For example, if I ask you to go round the squirrel to get a full-view 3D picture for mapping into a computer, and you keep chasing the squirrel around with the camera, but can only ever get the little beast to show its belly to you, then you might rightly tell me “I simply could not get round the squirrel to get those pictures”.  Yet if your task was merely to go round the squirrel to set up pylon cameras to get those same images, you might rightly explain to me that you were able to go round the squirrel in order to complete this task, though in this case you never beheld the rodent’s dorsal side.  In these cases, the definition is formed through the situation and its consequences; there appears to be a real cash value (on the converse, what does James’ situational and definitional distinction get for us?  Perhaps we receive nothing, if we have no interest vested in either consequence).

Perhaps, then, the difference between what we mean and practically mean might not be a difference in denotation.  What I mean by going round the squirrel might be confined to a simple definition, but what I practically mean in the given example is that the act of “going round the squirrel” is an act the whose completion belongs to the category of things required in order for me to accomplish my end goal, one of the things which would get me closer to obtaining the cash-value of the 3D computer image of said squirrel.