Philosophy as Poetry


In 2004, the American pragmatist philosopher Richard Rorty spent three days holding his Page-Barbour lectures entitled Philosophy as Poetry. Its beautiful title captures important aspects of Rorty’s philosophy. 

Philosophy is not about presenting solutions to problems but inventing problems worth exploring. Some of the problems that Rorty addresses relate to the notion of origin and reality—both concepts are not something given or static. For example, philosophy is not a thinking tool aimed at representing reality; rather, it’s a curious and creative exploration of what is possible.

For Rorty, at least in these three lectures, philosophy begins when we overcome the representational figure of thinking (i.e. reality versus appearance); actually, it begins with a wondering imagination. Perhaps for this reason, he—like many continental philosophers—sees philosophy as a literary genre. According to the French philosopher Michel Serres, a work of fiction can often produce far more experience, knowledge, and testing of our moral limitations than some philosophical papers. 

So what is Rorty saying? 

“… we need to think of reason not as truth-tracking faculty but as a social practice,” he says, continuing, “We need to think of imagination not as the faculty that produces visual or auditory images but as a combination of novelty and luck. To be imaginative, as opposed to being merely fantastical, is to do something new and to be lucky enough to have that novelty be adopted by one’s fellow human, incorporated into their social practices.” 

Later, he clarifies: “What we call ‘increased knowledge’ should not be thought of as increased access to the Real but as increased ability to do things—to take part in social practices that make possible richer and fuller human lives.”

Philosophy is a creative and imaginative practice proposing new ways of living more humanely, which always seemed to be one of Rorty’s concerns

From Emerson, Rorty takes the notion that there “is no outside, no inclosing wall”, there is nothing outside language. Language comes to us with the world like a wave hitting the shore. 

“Every human achievement,” Rorty says, “is simply a launching pad for greater achievement … There are only larger human lives to be lived.” 

Referring to Schiller, Shelley, and Nietzsche he emphasizes that we must become “the poets of our own lives”, echoing Nietzsche’s commend; however, not just our own lives (which would be an ego trip) but for “the world in which those lives are lived is a creation of the human imagination.”

Imagination is the principle vehicle of human progress. If you can’t imagine another world, then you can’t act responsibly. Thus, the task of philosophy is to create better poems, to achieve something better, to expand life. 

In a similar way, when Nietzsche tried to overcome Platonism, he said that it’s not about self-knowledge but “self-creation through self-description.” Reason, in other words, works only within the limits set by imagination. Or, as Wittgenstein, another of Rorty’s companions, said, “We should not ask about meaning but only about use.” For example, “… if we have a plausible narrative of how we became what we are, and why we use the words we do as we do, we have all we need in the way of self-understanding.” 

Rorty’s philosophy as poetry is narrative and inconclusive—just like life is. The words we use to describe the world change because everything in life changes. Therefore, the search for truth is also a search for justification, and being “rational is a practice of giving and asking for reason, not the employment of an innate truth-tracking faculty.” 

If there is a romantic formula, it goes something like this: you imagine something novel, like catching an idea; you then test and experiment with this idea, and perhaps this novelty is so good that it will become a new social practice. 

Vold eller ikke-vold

“Thinking is an activity that must be performed over and over again in order to keep it alive.” – Richard J. Bernstein

I filosofiens verden er èt liv i fokus. Ikke forstået biologisk eller juridisk, men etisk. Hvilke måder tænker, føler og ånder det på? Hvorledes kan det udfolde sig? Hvilke rammer og strukturer lever det under? Er det underlagt trusler om vold? Yder det modstand? Er det frit? Engageret? Revolutionært?

Et godt eksempel på denne praksis udføres af den amerikanske filosof Richard Bernstein. I bogen Violence filosoferer han med lige dele pragmatisk snilde og hermeneutisk grundighed, hvorved han formår at hænge fem forskellige tænkeres tanker om vold op på en kompetent narrativ snor. Bernstein er en god fortæller, fordi han er en god tænker. De fem tænkere som han beskæftiger sig med er: Carl Schmitt, Walter Benjamin, Hannah Arendt, Frantz Fanon og Jan Assmann. Alle fem essays er læseværdige, selvom jeg fandt hans introduktion, Arendt-essayet og Fanon-essayet mest oplysende. 

Et par nedslag. Bernstein viser, hvordan Arendt argumenterer for at revolution ikke har noget som helst med vold at gøre. Tværtimod. Formålet med en revolution er folkets frihed, og vold kan ikke skabe frihed, kun destruere. Bernstein hiver blandt andet fat i Arendts definitioner af begreberne magt, styrke og kraft. Med disse viser hun nemlig, at magt ikke er magt over. Magt er ellers noget, som de fleste er vant til at forbinde med noget vertikalt. Eksempelvis: politik er et magtspil, hvor den ultimative form for magt er vold. Eller: magt, som når A kan få B til at gøre noget, som B ellers ikke ville gøre (igen vold, fx verbal vold). Hos Arendt er der dog tale om noget horisontalt. Hun taler om med-magt (eller empowerment), som noget der opnås, når mennesker handler i samklang. Denne form for magt er baseret på samarbejde, forførelse, undersøgelse, deling af viden, en vedvarende test af ideer og meninger – ikke vold. Denne forståelse  hænger sammen med Arendts forståelse af politik. Et sted siger hun at målet for modstand er en frigørelse fra undertrykkelse, mens målet for en revolution, som sagt, er frihedens fundament.

Det er pudsigt, at nogle af de mest interessante tanker omkring magt i det tyvende  århundrede kommer fra to kvinder. Udover Arendt har ledelses- og organisationsteoretikeren Mary Parker Follet (som oplever en mindre renæssance p.t.) ligeledes talt om med-magt (ikke magt til) og sam-magt, som noget der udfoldes i et fællesskab; et fællesskab, hvor den enkeltes singularitet ikke reduceres. Skyldes det at nogle mænd ikke kan adskille styrke og magt fra hinanden? Skyldes det at nogle mænd holder fast i det romantiske billede af den ensomme ulv, a.k.a. John Wayne, selvom de fleste ensomme ulve reelt stikker af, fordi de ikke kan begå sig i en socialitet? Ja, selv ulve jager i flok.

Bernstein slår dog ned på Arendts bløde punkter. Han viser blandt andet, hvordan hun argumenterer for en retfærdiggørelse af vold, fx som voldelig modstand til nazisternes undertrykkelse af jøderne. Hun siger, at det er på sin plads at yde modstand, sågar vold, som jøde, fordi man er undertrykt som jøde. Problemet for Bernstein er ikke retfærdiggørelsen af vold per se, men kriteriet for hvornår en undertrykkelse retfærdiggør vold. Arendt er ikke klar.

Her dukker meget passende en ny tænker op. Fanon argumenterer eksempelvis for at vold kan retfærdiggøres, når et land koloniserer et andet. Problemet er dog, siger Fanon, når en koloniseret mentalitet underminerer revolutionens mål, nemlig frihed. Ofte sker der det, at en undertrykkelse erstattes af en anden. De færreste besidder en tilgivende og fremtidsorienteret mentalitet, som Nelson Mandela.

Bernstein anvender Fanon for at understrege, at vold nogle gange er retfærdig. Imidlertid understreger Bernstein, at der aldrig kan og være principielle regler for, hvornår dette gælder. Det er demokratiets opgave, at debattere åbent og kritisk. Intet argument kan stå alene. Som pragmatisk filosof ved han, at intet er givet, at der ikke findes et urokkeligt og sikkert fundament. Med andre ord: “There is no escape from risky political judgments.”

Apropos vold og debat. I de seneste år er Spanien begyndt at debattere hustruvold mere aktivt. About time! I 2011 døde 60 kvinder pga. voldelige mænd. Det er mere end et dødsfald om ugen! Spanien er på nogle områder modbydeligt patriarkalsk, men noget er heldigvis begyndt at røre på sig. Dog er der desværre endnu tilbageskridt for kvinderne, fx i forbindelse med abort (se mere her).

I essayet der handler om Jan Assmann, som har forsket i religiøs vold beskriver Bernstein, hvordan det aldrig er monoteisme, der fører til vold og mord ophøjet eller retfærdiggjort i en sand guds navn. Derimod er det politisk misbrug af monoteisme, der leder til vold. Dette leder læseren tilbage til Benjamin-essayet, hvor Bernstein – ganske interessant – læser med og mod Simon Critley og Judith Butler, når de hævder at “divine violence” er op til den enkeltes dømmekraft. Pointen er, at Benjamin hævder at det religiøse bud: ”Du må ikke slå ihjel”, ikke er en kategorisk lov, men en form for guide. Konklusionen bliver derfor, at ens forpligtelse på ikke-vold kan eksistere sammen med en retfærdiggørelse af vold. Hvornår vold er acceptabel er, ifølge Critley og Butler, en individuel beslutning. Dette kan Bernstein selvfølgelig ikke acceptere. Man skal ikke beslutte sig for at anvende vold i ensomhed. Det er den beslutning simpelthen for vigtig til.

Politiske vurderinger og beslutninger er altid fuld af risici, men en ordentlig udførelse af politik afhænger af hvordan offentligheden engageres til at debattere. Ingen offentlighed er ufejlbarlig. Men problemerne opstår, når offentligheden manipuleres af ydre interesser, hvorved den engagerede debat uddør. Uden debat er der intet andet tilbage end voldens triumf.

Bernstein er en fortaler for at udforskning af, hvad det vil sige at være menneske. Det vil sige, hvordan man frit kan ytre sig, teste sine ideer og meninger uden frygt for liv og lemmer. Undervejs i denne samling siger han mange interessante ting, og foretager oplysende og interessante læsninger. Bernstein er en kompetent guide rundt i voldens teoretikere.

Vold eller ikke-vold … bogen er hermed varmt anbefalet.

Pragmatism

“For empirical knowledge, like its sophisticated extension, science, is rational, not because it has a foundation but because it is a self-correcting enterprise which can put any claim in jeopardy, though not all at once.” – Wilfrid Sellars

The philosophical tradition of Pragmatism challenges the implicit assumption that our practices are necessarily inadequate and require backup from some standard or unchangeable principle that lies beyond them. This tradition argues, among many things, that there is no other world to which we can refer. Philosophy is not religion by other means; it is not babysitting, but an ongoing struggle for survival.

The reason for this post is the book Pragmatism: An Introductionby Michael Bacon that I recently read.

Pragmatism is mainly an American story, and to some extent American philosophers tend to debate with each other. It is a closed party, which is both an advantage and a disadvantage, since, for example, the debate becomes intense but sometimes also too parochial. This book tries to provide a broader and more inclusive view.

The themes of Pragmatism are not just an American phenomenon but an interesting American phenomenon. The main difference between European and American philosophers is that many European philosophers understand philosophy, I think, as a form of life (such as the existentialist tradition from Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, and Sartre to Deleuze), which has formed many thinkers regardless of their differences. The way a person thinks, feels, and acts are part of the way they live their life. Americans (I generalize) are more philosophers by profession, although this is also a tendency that is growing in Europe.

Enough of this; let us deal with the book Pragmatism. It starts with Charles Sanders Peirce, but only because William James refers to him in a lecture given in 1898. Bacon´s book presents the history of Pragmatism through a series of profiles of prominent Pragmatists: Dewey, Rorty, Davidson, Putnam, etc. Most of these are familiar faces regardless of one’s knowledge of Pragmatism per se. The book also presents profiles of a few interesting thinkers I haven´t read; yet, such as Brandom and Bernstein.

There are beliefs that the Pragmatists share, such as the view that ideas should never become rigid ideologies that refer to transcendent norms. They believe that everything is fallible and nothing is certain in all eternity, which they understand to mean unquestionable. Several Pragmatists deal with the relationship between “the game of giving and asking for reasons.” The goal of philosophy is not truth; rather, philosophy is an ongoing inquiry that may make us wiser in overcoming the various struggles or setbacks that fill our lives.

Personally, I like the style of James and Dewey, because they write very clearly, without too much jargon. The same can be said about Rorty, although some may find him too jovial at times. In my opinion, he has written some interesting essays, for instance, one on Nabokov and cruelty, which argues that the trouble with rights is that they address predetermined forms of cruelty; the idea that everything is given makes our thinking shrink (Badiou was saying something similar in a previous post).

In one interview, Rorty said, “If we take care of freedom, truth can take care of itself,” thereby emphasizing that what is most important in philosophy is freedom, not truth. The truth does not set anyone free; it is just another example of an unquestionable postulate. Being free, however, makes one amenable to a richer understanding of life.

Another interesting figure that Bacon presents is Sellars. Sellars deals with the myth of the given by stressing that the human being is distinct in his or her ability to bring understanding to the world through the creation of concepts. His ideas lead to the views of Brandom, or some of them. One very interesting idea is that language is not merely a tool. Rather, what we do is intrinsic to the structure of language. Language is not a tool to reach a goal, as some pop-coaching methods claim; rather, the interests in a goal cannot exist prior to language. If they do, then they do not have any transformative potential, which may be why some forms of coaching often comprise a never-ending story, trying to convince the poor victim (or paying client) about the significance of the goal. This idea is also related to Brandom´s idea about negative and positive freedoms, which appears to place itself in alignment with Foucault´s idea about resistance and Deleuze’s understanding of the will to power as a will to create–that is, freedom being understood as becoming through a mixture of resistance and creation. “Without a suitable language there are some beliefs, desires, and intentions that one simply cannot have.”

Some portraits, of course, I find less interesting—es lo que hay—but in general, the book serves it purpose: it introduces the reader to a vast number of thinkers related to Pragmatism in a very precise and clear way.

In conclusion, Bacon emphasizes that Pragmatists are united in what Putnam calls “the supremacy of the agent point of view,” and what Brandom calls “the primacy of the practical,” whether this concerns knowledge, communication, reasoning, etc. A very interesting result of Pragmatism is that we—all of us human beings—are in a constant clash of mentalities (not cultures, por favor!), or of standpoints and beliefs.

New readers may start to think now.

***

If interested, see also my comment on Richard J. Bernstein’s book, Why Read Hannah Arendt Now

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