False Egalitarianism Consumes the World, Feigning a Smile

The United States of America is the land of the ridiculous, the absurd, and thus the dangerous. The pinnacle of its nadir is Trump—the reductio of the idea that a Constitution, no matter how apparently enlightened, is sufficient for greatness, a healthy society and world. While other times have been problematic and terrible in their own way, today we have the great fortune of being what we always wanted to be: special.

Today is a world of conflation, the inability to clearly distinguish between this and that. If the this and that were merely Captain D’s and Long John Silvers, then it would be of little import. Alas, one of the fundamental conflations concerns people and their value. If I had the tiniest cut every time I heard the expression that everyone has a right to their opinion, then I would have bled out long ago. I suppose there’s some basic thing there that’s true, i.e., I don’t have the right to somehow brainwash you or plant a chip in your brain to make you think something. But beyond that, the claim is empty of the content that people seem to think it holds. For they seem to think that it means that their opinion is of equal value with anyone and everyone else’s. Aside from the understandable desire to feel special and at least as smart if not smarter than one’s neighbor, I take it that what truly grounds this inanity is the idea that if one person tells another that their opinion is foolish, stupid, and/or dangerous, or if one has the fortitude to admit this to oneself, then their humanity has been denigrated. If I tell another that I know better than them, then I’m implying that they are somehow lesser as a person.

This is, of course, ridiculous on two fronts. With a little thought one can see that we can respect somebody’s humanity, their personhood, their claims to the rights granted to persons in our society, while at the same time saying that they are not as good as someone else in some aspect, for example, their ability to reason clearly, their understanding of history, their understanding of politics, their understanding of human psychology, their understanding of themselves, etc. — That is not to say that there is no danger in judging others to be inferior in some aspect, for it is all too easy for that to slip into a condemnation of their humanity. So, we must be ever vigilant of that slippage. However, such possibilities of danger should not cause us to “err on the side of caution (stupidity)” and allow ridiculousness to run rampant, as we do.

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Philosophy as Good for Nothing: A Manifesto

1. “What is philosophy?”— What kind of question is that? I’ve long found it fascinating and of huge importance that, “What is philosophy?” is itself a philosophical question. This is not the same for other fields. That is, “What is science?” is not a scientific question. Perhaps if it is read as asking, “What do people called ‘scientists’ do?” it could be read as an empirical question, though that is not enough to make it scientific. I take the questions, “What is philosophy?” and “What is science?” to be asking about how we should think of them, which may or may not correspond to how anyone actually does think of them. This is not to say that there is a single correct answer to either question, though that in itself is controversial. However, if Wittgenstein’s denial of essences and his alternative picture of family resemblance has a place anywhere, I’d say it is here, with how we should conceive of philosophy (and most likely science).

As Wittgenstein realized, this could be seen as “taking the easy way out,” as it might seem to avoid the hard work of figuring out that one thing that philosophy is supposed to be. However, while I want to put forward a certain conception of philosophy—write its manifesto—without taking that to mean it is the only way philosophy should be conceived or pursued this does not mean that just anything goes. Much less that things will be easy. It is a potentially misleading analogy, but just as the possibility of a variety of legitimate interpretations of a poem does not mean that just any interpretation is of value, so with philosophy: not just anything will do.

2. There are many ways one can divide up the (meta-) philosophical terrain. A distinction that is vital for my purpose here is that between conceptions of philosophy that see it as something that could or should be brought to an end (at least in theory) and conceptions of philosophy that do not see it as something that could or should be brought to an end (theoretically or no). There are a variety of ways one might conceive of philosophy as “endable.” For example, in a well-known passage from 1931, Wittgenstein writes:

People say again and again that philosophy doesn’t really progress, that we are still occupied with the same philosophical problems as were the Greeks. But the people who say this don’t understand why it has to be so. It is because our language has remained the same and keeps seducing us into asking the same questions. (Culture and Value, Tran. Winch, 16)

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Realizing the Matrix—On the Possibility and Desirability of “Uploading” Insight

There is a special class of knowledge or wisdom that we might call insight or realization. This comes in a variety of forms and degrees. For example, someone tells you how scary it is to be in the water when someone spots a shark. You’ve been afraid before, you’ve been in the ocean before, so you think you have a pretty good idea of what that must be like. But you don’t really realize what it’s like until you’ve been swimming on the North Shore of Oahu and someone yells, “Shark!” At which point you panic like never before, swim like never before. Or you have a conversation with a friend and they tell you something that sounds plausible and halfway interesting, but it doesn’t really connect with anything else you’ve been thinking about or that is meaningful to you. But some years later, after reading different things, thinking things through, you suddenly have an insight, you suddenly have this realization. You then happen to excitedly tell your friend about it, and their reaction is, “That’s what I told you two years ago!”

What is importantly common to the shark and friend examples is that they both involve a kind of “seeing” for oneself. The shark example is different in the speed at which the realization happens. It is a purer form of realizing what it is like to experience or do something. The example with the friend is less of a realizing what it is like and more a realizing the significance of something. This realizing the significance often means seeing connections, how an idea, for example, connects up with other important ideas, one’s other beliefs and values, etc. Such realizations are markedly different from simple cases of knowing how to do something like ride a bike and knowing what we might call “trivia” or pieces of information. For example, one might readily learn and know that in Plato’s dialogues, Socrates is an important philosopher, is convicted and sentenced to death, eventually dying by drinking hemlock. So much is relatively easy to understand/know. But it takes years of studying philosophy and reading Plato, etc., to realize the full significance of those bits of knowledge, their value/significance, how they connect up with other issues, both in philosophy and one’s life. Continue reading

How Not to Regret Your Hindsight Judgments

As anyone who knows me or who is familiar with this blog likely knows, suffering and death are preoccupations of mine. And, so, when I saw on Facebook this morning an article—one I think I’ve seen before—on The Top Five Regrets of the Dying by Bronnie Ware, I shared it without looking at it again—something I do far too often, i.e., share without really looking, simply based on the headline and blurb. A friend and former colleague, Joshua Miller, commented by sharing his piece, The Fetishizing of the Dying, in which he calls out Ware on a number of points. I’m grateful that he did.

After reflecting on her experience in palliative care for the dying, Ware enumerate these five regrets as most typical:

  1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
  2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.
  3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
  4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
  5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

These are judgments that I find myself easily able to imagine having. However, like Miller, I take issue with certain aspects of these regrets, particularly the idea that they might be action guiding for our own lives. Again, I’m thankful to Miller for calling me out on the post. Miller’s first criticism of it is:

Why should we credit someone’s last thoughts over the ones that guided them throughout life? A regret is just an act of hypocrisy, a wish to have had our cake and eaten it, too. Because we don’t really know what regrets we would have had in the counterfactual, regret is largely a fantasy of another, unknown life, more desirable because it is foreign, its pleasures more easily imagined than its pains. There’s no particularly good reason to believe we are wiser when faced with imminent death, chronic pain, and possibly clouded by drugs.

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You are Right and I have my Peace—On the Pursuit of Truth and a Meaningful Life

What am I after in pursuing philosophy? A ready answer is: the Truth. The truth about whatever philosophical topic I might be interested in. But this answer is problematic for a number of important reasons. One is that philosophy is extremely difficult and I’d have to be a fool or full of hubris to think that I will figure out any significant truths, truths that greater minds than my own failed to see. Another is revealed in the following passage from §5 of Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil, “Part One: On the Prejudices of Philosophers”: Continue reading