Philosophers

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Tuesday, August 31 2010

An invitation to participate in another world

Yesterday, en route to Greenbelt, I read a bunch of current affairs magazines. Big philosophical issues on what it is to be human never seemed far from the surface of many articles.

In Standpoint, Ray Tallis and Roger Scruton have a fascinating exchange, covering matters from the genius of the common law (a case of bottom-up wisdom) to our cultural inheritance from the Pleistocene (almost nothing that matters). Their thoughts come together on the issue of music.

For Tallis, it provides the quintessential example of human freedom, arising from the mystery of consciousness: there's no causality in music - one note does not deterministically lead to another - and yet a melody or motif is a whole, in that it makes sense to us, speaks to us. Scruton adds that the astonishing thing about music is that it enables us to share another individual's first-person point of view. Its thrill is, in part, in experiencing the world together. Moreover, music does not happen in the material world, where sound is but a sequence, but happens because we are invited to participate in another world, its world.

Which partly goes to explain why Nicholas Humphrey's account of beauty, in Prospect, won't do. Trapped in an instrumental world - of utility, not violins - he explains it like the peacock's tail: a matter of sexual display. But this is surely a case of evolution explaining away what it purports to explain. If you don't like the aesthetic insights of Scruton and Tallis on music, which challenge this reductionism, then how about the hard observation of the physicist, that the beauty of equations is a key test of their explanatory power. Humphrey would say that the perception of beauty in the physicist's equations arises because they represent stable forms, and we are attracted to stable forms because stability is desirable in a sexual partner. Is it just me, or are you thinking, 'shaggy dog story'?

In truth, there's a battle going on in these debates about the veracity of naturalism, which leads to a third piece I read. According to André Comte-Sponville, naturalism does not entail giving up on notions of the sacred, the absolute, the holy. But, as John Cottingham argues, the natural world, as nothing more than natural process, can deliver none of these things. Thermodynamics alone decrees that everything awaits final destruction, and before that fateful day, all values are human projections.

Cottingham believes that revisionist atheists, like Comte-Sponville, are having their spiritual cake and eating it, co-opting religious ideas whose metaphysical foundations they simultaneously reject. The implication is that they should have the courage of their convictions and make that leap of faith...

Thursday, July 15 2010

Interpreting Plato's Lysis

My PhD thesis was a reading of Plato's Lysis, the great philosopher's exploration of friendship. And so it was exciting, to me at least, to yesterday read Martha Beck's book, The Quest for Wisdom in Plato and Jung, and realise that the dialogue could be read in a parallel way to how I'd done, namely as a case study in analysis and individuation.

It's set outside a palaestra, on a festival day to do with love, which sets the whole discussion in what Jungians might call a 'libido field', a place resonant with psychic possibility. Socrates first 'analyses' Hippothales, who is infatuated with Lysis (he's identified with a projected complex, they might say), and promises to show Hippothales how to love Lysis properly. He does so by talking with Lysis as a separate individual - that is, he seeks to befriend rather than fall for him, which should show Hippothales the necessity of seeing his infatuation for what it is, at least in part. (Hippothales noticeably fails to do so.) The conversation with Lysis that follows is fascinating on a number of counts too. Socrates behaves as a midwife, of course - encouraging them to push, even when painful - which I understand is a good model for a Jungian analyst. But also for the results of their examination.

For example, there is the discussion about whether friendship is formed between individuals who are similar or dissimilar, and the suggestion that it is probably a mixture of both. This demonstrates a desire for a both/and rather than either/or conclusion - one that Aristotle, with his very unindividuated notion of the 'excluded middle', rejects in his discussion of friendship.

There's also a lot in the Lysis about our 'in between' status as human beings. For Socrates, what we're in between is our awareness of our ignorance of things and the unknown itself. This would mirror Jung's idea about the desirability of a new equilibrium between the conscious and unconscious being reached with individuation.

Then there's the aporia at the end, when Socrates confesses that though they think they're friends, they haven't been able to say what friendship is, which could, I guess, be interpreted as another moment of individuation - recognising the problem their encounter has thrown up, rather than simply being consumed by it. And also, more deeply, capturing something of the didactic role Socrates has played for Lysis. This, in Jungian terms, would be to act as a projection of his shadow, something Socrates did by questioning many of the assumptions Lysis has about how he belongs in the world.

Socrates leaves, remarking that he must take up the question of friendship again another time, probably with some folk of his own age, which might be thought of him moving out of midwife mode and seeking to tend to his own individuation too. Beck's broader suggestion is that, the Socrates Plato portrays is a literary representation of an individuated individual, with the brilliant twist that by reading the dialogues, and dialoguing with them, we too may search for soul via our interaction with this extraordinary man, as indeed Plato himself had done.

Saturday, June 5 2010

The uplifting pessimism of Roger Scruton

I've enjoyed reading Roger Scruton's latest, The Uses of Pessimism: and the dangers of false hope - which summarises pretty well what the book's about. But whilst he can lose control of his pen (I've learnt to skip paragraphs when I see 'Foucault' and 'homosexuality' coming up), it's for his articulacy of human feeling amidst philosophical learning that I value his writing. It's something that so few philosophers do, as they retreat into their rational, reductive analyses. But here's a man who can say:

'Only in a condition of mutual forgiveness is life worthwhile.'

'One of the things is learning how to feel grateful – even for difficult things that have happened to you.'

'The more I live, the more I see that humanity is always poised on the brink, and can fall into chaos and disaster at any time.'

(He even draws back from previous excesses on homosexuality. 'It's such a complicated thing, homosexuality. It's not one thing, anyway. So I wouldn't stand by what I said then.')

Friday, May 28 2010

The parascience delusion

I can greatly recommend Absence of Mind by Marilynne Robinson. Her Terry lectures of last year, to read the book is to experience a crystal glass of sparkling water being poured over what she calls 'parascience', that genre of popular science writing which claims to offer explanations of anything and everything from consciousness to God.

Parascience is a product of the Enlightenment dream that humankind can understand itself, and in so doing, liberate itself. It's a kind of modernist gnosticism: you think the world is one way, actually it's another, and here's the secret to its interpretation. This is the common characteristic of otherwise strikingly disparate ways of knowing. According to neo-Darwinism, you think you're being kind to someone, when really you're robotically following the imperatives of selfish genes. According to Freudianism, you think you're falling in love, when really you're the victim of unresolved Oedipal urges. According to materialist philosophies of mind, you think you've a willing, free, imaginative mind, when really you're governed by an electro-chemical, probably computational, piece of meat called the brain.

The title echoes Robinson's call that science and other disciplines, including philosophy and theology - which might know better - should not absent from their considerations that which is most immediate to human experience: culture, subjectivity, mind. When they do, or 'explain' these things by explaining them away, they trivialize and discredit that which most richly makes us.

William James is one of her heroes because he refused the reductionist route. As he wrote: 'Why may not the world be a sort of republican banquet..., where all the qualities of being respect one another's personal sacredness, yet sit at the common table of space and time?'

Sunday, February 14 2010

iMontaigne

It's bound to be risky writing a biography of an author whose Essays people routinely refer to as like an old friend. But Sarah Bakewell is the latest to attempt a life of Montaigne. And How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer is very enjoyable. I'm learning new stuff about the man, particularly about the background to his life. Also, I appreciated the observation that writing essays is a kind of mindfulness born of curiosity, paying attention being one of the key practices the Hellenistic philosophers, with whom Montaigne engaged, advocated to gain tranquility of mind.

But still, I can't help but feel there is something about the book that is missing the profundity of the man, at least as I've read him. I think it might be the structure. It views his life through a kind of self-help prism, and self-help these days (perhaps not in his) demands one thing that he doesn't quite give: positive answers.

I take it that Montaigne's assays on himself led to a realisation that there is no answer to how to live, rather a series of more or less abortive attempts at deeper questions - sometimes light and joyous, sometimes unbearably painful. And whilst he tests the techniques provided by the Epicureans and Stoics, he ultimately sides with the Sceptics - followers of the negative way, the perpetual enquirers.

Friday, January 15 2010

Does philosophy get philosophers all wrong?

I was at a Cambridge University conference earlier in the week, at which one big shot philosopher after another described how we've got philosophers wrong. Plato was no rationalist but an erotocist, concerned with how we channel the energy called eros. Descartes was not exactly a sceptic, and certainly no Cartesian, but a theistic intuitionist, pondering how we make sense of our dependency on God. Hume was not so much a radical naturalist, though he was, but an apophatic metaphysician, realising that naturalism alone can't account for the fact of purpose. Wittgenstein was not a Wittgenstinian but thought we should constantly pay attention to usage, our language games, and resist forming systems, the mythical rules those games supposedly follow.

It was exhilerating to listen. There will be rows. But it reminded me of the dangers of settled interpretations and vested interests. I wondered if philosophy-as-profession is due a shake up.

Thursday, December 17 2009

What do philosophers believe?

There's an entertaining survey at PhilPapers, the results of a questionnaire on the kind of things philosophers are presumed to talk about (which is quite illuminating in itself - teletransporters, trolley problems, zombies...) The typical responding philosopher is in the Anglo-American analytic tradition, studying philosophy of mind, and self-identifying with Hume, or possibly Aristotle - so that suggests a certain self-selection, presumably resulting from the philosophy of mind weighting of questions asked. That notwithstanding, there are results that stand out to me:

  • almost 40% are Platonists on abstract objects
  • almost 60% are compatibilists on free will
  • over 70% are atheists
  • well over half are physicalists on mind
  • about a quarter are consequentialists, a quarter deontologists, and a fifth virtue ethicists.

Monday, December 14 2009

Public understanding of philosophy

Angie Hobbs, who has a public understanding of philosophy brief at Warwick - and who was also my PhD supervisor and so I can vouch for her pedagogical brilliance - has a new blog, running through matters in life with which philosophy can help.

Thursday, November 26 2009

Simon Critchley on Paul's faith

Saint Paul is a figure of great interest not only to biblical scholars and theologians but also to continental philosophers. Heidegger wrote a commentary on Paul. Badiou, Zizek, Agamben and others are fascinated by him. Simon Critchley was in London yesterday to explore one facet of Paul in particular, his faith.

Critchley explored how Paul is a dangerous figure, for the spirit of Paul is the spirit of reformation. Even Nietzsche perversely admired him, for Paul achieved a transvaluation of all values. Paul is no stabilizing figure, as if he were the founder of that edifice called Christianity. That's just to misread him, Critchley said, for Paul never talks about being Christian, but rather about being in Christ, part of a community that is awaiting the end times, part of a community that is the forerunner of that which is to come.

Paul's power is found in his powerlessness. He has become, literally, the shit of the world. But that slavery is the source of his strength, for it opens up radically new possibilities: only those who have lost everything have everything to gain, only those who have died to the old can be alive to the new. For Critchley - who is currently working on a book about 'faith for the faithless' - Paul's faith is declarative, an act that itself brings something into being. Faith is, therefore, not about belief but is rather a struggle to live according to the infinite demand of the future. Faith is like a pledge. The truth to which it bears witness is better thought of as troth. And it is love that drives that commitment not reason for, as Paul says, faith works through love.

Now, there is a heresy that lurks close to this delight in Pauline newness, the dualist heresy of Marcion who believed the old must be discarded in favour of the new - the Old Testament, in particular, with its old God, law and biopolitics. Only then can the vital spirit of the new be lived. The law kills but the spirit gives life. This Marcionism is implicit in many of the contemporary continental philosophers who are drawn to Paul, though Critchley resisted it because, he said, Marcion is ultimately wrong. We must live in the dialectic between law and life, old and new. That's not just the way the world is, but is also the source of the strife that defines us as human beings. It's our conscience - that open wound, Freud said, which will not heal but which makes us human.

John Millbank was present to respond to Critchley, and as he spoke, I understood one reason why theologians welcome the philosophers' interest: the theologians know Paul better than the philosophers do! Millbank welcomed much of what Critchley had to say, not least his rejection of Marcionism - though Millbank pointed out that if for Critchley the tragic mess of the world is the first and last word in what makes us human, for Christians the tragic mess is not the last word, for they have the hope of grace to lift them out of sin. Critchley seemed genuinely moved by the weight of sin that bore down upon him.

Millbank also drew back from the concept of faith as pure performance, observing that this made Paul out to be some extraordinarily hip artist, when in truth, he was a believer. What Millbank suspects the philosophers have failed to appreciate is that doctrine is not the Christian equivalent of deadening law, but rather that doctrine operates in an essentially negative mode: it refuses positions not advocates positions of its own, and so keeps the mystery open - the dialectic of the human and divine.

Finally, Millbank claimed back the dangerous Paul for the established church for he is not just a reforming spirit but also a spirit who builds community: his letters contain instructions for building communities as well as resisting empires. In fact, Millbank suggested, Paul was introducing a kind of democratized mystical community - a way of life that collapses the cosmic, the political and the philosophical; an amalgam of Greek and Jewish religious life, radicalised in Christ.

The other day, a friend of mine sent me a quote from Cicero, in which Cicero spoke of the Eleusian mysteries. After the initiation, Cicero wrote, 'We have been given a reason not only to live in joy but also to die with better hope.' My friend liked the spare scansion of the translation, as it sounds like one of Cranmer's collects. Perhaps Paul liked the Cicero too.

(Image: Rembrandt's Apostle Paul)

Friday, November 20 2009

Stoics lead

Over 2000 people have done the What's Your Philosophy Type quiz now. The stoics lead, with two in five folk being offered a little Zeno; followed by one third showing an apparent preference for the way of the Epicureans. Aristotle, Pyrrho, Plato and Diogenes are on the list too.

Saturday, October 24 2009

Into the minds of the ancients

I enjoyed this thought (hat tip: Andrew Brown):

'(Epicurus) lived ... in an age when the falsity of the orthodox religion had become apparent to intelligent men and when with the coming of great kingdoms the independence of the Greek states was lost forever. It was for that age as it would be for us if Christianity had become a discredited myth and if Britain had become a subject state in an American Empire.'

Friday, October 2 2009

Public understanding of philosophy fellow

Warwick University is about to announce the first academic with an explicit brief to engage a wide audience with philosophy. Dr Angela Hobbs will be made senior fellow in the public understanding of philosophy. Fantastic. I've penned a piece on the initiative for the Guardian's Comment is free.

Saturday, September 26 2009

Philosophy online: the immersion experience

Harvard University has upped the stakes when it comes to online learning. Many universities now release lectures on iTunes U. But they can be static, monodimensional experiences to watch. So now, with Michael Sandel's new Justice course - which is already very popular - the university has introduced more lights, more cameras, more interactivity, in an attempt to capture the full learning experience, the sense of being present, sensing what's at stake, feeling the riskiness of thought.

It's encouraging that philosophy is receiving the stadium treatment. But, already, the days when, at low cost, you could just stick audiovisual online and wait for an audience, have long gone. TV, books, online, live: the platforms are merging.

Thursday, September 24 2009

Philosophy as a view of the world

For folk who worry about that state of contemporary academic philosophy, John Cottingham of Reading University has written a thoughtful essay. Developing the concept of humanistic philosophy suggested by Bernard Williams - which is the effort to make sense of ourselves - he worries about the dominance of scientistic and reductively analytic models in the discipline, arguing instead that if philosophy is a way of caring about how we live, then it ultimately needs to be an integrative and even transformative activity. '...in our philosophical activity, as in our lives generally, integrity has a great claim to be considered the master virtue,' he writes.

That's a major theme of much of his work, not least when attempting to redraw the links between philosophy, psychology and psychoanalysis, and theology. I'd recommend his book The Spiritual Dimension for a serious but accessible read.

Incidentally, if you want a snapshot of contemporary academic philosophy, at least in the anglo-american world, The Philosopher's Annual has published its 'ten best articles' for 2008.

(Image: Rembrandt's Der Philosoph)

Monday, September 21 2009

A man for all seasons

The eight and last of my blogs on Plato is just up at the Guardian's Cif Belief - this week exploring how Plato hopes to awaken us to that which is more than we can comprehend, for all that we will never fully understand it. A taster:

'It is in this sense that Plato might be thought of as a religious thinker for our times. He has no doctrines, only powerful suggestions. He does not advocate belief, but rather good judgment. He is never authoritarian, instead inviting his readers to cultivate a way of life. Alongside questions about the transcendent, Plato places others about values, the good life and love – additional great concerns that are pressing for us today. "In the strange cosmic astronomy of the wandering zeitgeist," Iris Murdoch reflected, "we are closer to Plato now than in many previous centuries."'

Incidentally, here's the full set:

Monday, September 14 2009

Plato and Christianity

The seventh of my blogs on Plato is just up at the Guardian's Cif Belief - this week exploring how philosophy as a way of life became the servant of dogmatic theology, and lost its charism in the process. A taster:

'Can we imagine what Plato's comment on the uses and abuses of his legacy might have been? The danger, he would have pointed out, is that doctrine denies experience. It shifts attention from the transformation of the individual to the indoctrination of the masses. It seeks to manage people, not change them; to pit sound belief against searching practice. It is particularly frightened of people's love lives – the force that he had celebrated as the beginning, middle and end of his philosophy. The intense scrutiny of people's love lives is a sure sign of the exercise of religious power. Hence, today, the theologians and bishops who are most concerned with doctrinal correctness are also most concerned with sexual purity.'

Monday, September 7 2009

Life in the first Academy

The sixth of my blogs on Plato is just up at the Guardian's Cif Belief - this week exploring what Plato's school, the Academy, hoped to achieve. A taster:

'When Hadot refers to "spiritual exercises" he is stressing another dimension that follows from the practice of empathy, namely the transformation of the philosopher concerned. Something of that might be glimpsed in the way that the philosopher Theodore Zeldin has written about good conversation: "When minds meet, they don't just exchange facts: they transform them, reshape them, draw different implications from them, engage in new trains of thought."'

Saturday, September 5 2009

Zarathustra speaks volumes in tones

Also sprach Zarathustra, Richard Strauss's brilliant tone poem, featured in the proms last night. The Gustav Mahler Youth Orchestra played it with panache; it was moving just watching them sway with the passion of the music, as orchestras of older players don't, given their familiarity with the piece, from its sunrise opening to ambivalent end.

And it was the ambivalent end, the quietly plucked low strings disallowing the resolution the high wind tentatively desires, that came across so powerfully too. Strauss's piece is one of the relatively few making direct reference to the work of philosophers, in this case Nietzsche's later book on Zarathustra, the prophet and 'first immortalist' who had self-overcome the crisis in value following the death of God. (Berstein's Serenade After Plato's Symposium would be another example.)

Hence, Strauss moves through great celebrations of pleasure, of science, of heroism - and yet, though following Nietzsche, can't quite make it add up. Maybe it's millennial angst: the piece was written at the end of the 19th century. Maybe it's just a question of time: 100 years on, 200 years perhaps, and Nietzsche's Zarathustrian project will be completed. In the meantime, there's something that still makes sense in that uncertain end.

Tuesday, September 1 2009

Plato's ascent of love

The fifth of my blogs on Plato's dialogues is up on the Guardian's Cif belief. This week, love, knowledge and the perception of forms.

'Directed aright, love draws you out of yourself too. It nurtures a passion for that which is beautiful, which in Plato's view of the world is also that which is good and true. This process is known as the "ascent of love." It's no easy path to follow; it takes a long time... Finally, at the pinnacle of the ascent, the "goal of loving", that which is "wonderfully beautiful in its nature" is seen. An "eye of the soul" has been opened.'

Monday, August 24 2009

What do you love, Plato?

The fourth of my Plato blogs, for the Guardian's Cif Belief, is online here. This week, the one key question, what do you love?

'Get love right, and life will be as right as it can be too.'

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