Monday, 2 March 2015

Three Quick Thoughts on Searle's Biological Theory of Mind


 
Why is the brain-mind (intentionally) connected to its surroundings?
 
That question seems very fundamental.
 
However, I have a feeling that what are called “biological naturalists” (or at least some of them) may see it as a “pseudo question” in that biology itself provides the answer. In other words, brains are (intentionally) connected to the environment because that was the next evolutionary step up from simply reacting – physically - to stimuli in the environment. (That can't be “intentional” - or can it?)
 
So here we're back to the why of intentionality and therefore the why of consciousness.
 
Causal Powers
 
How do John Searle's “causal powers" fit into all this?
 
Searle's talk about causal powers refers to the fact that a certain level of complexity is what's required to bring about those causal powers which are necessary for intentionality, mind and consciousness.
 
Searle never never says that biological brains are the only things capable - in principle - of bringing about consciousness and intentionality (therefore semantics, in Searle-speak). He says that biological brains are the only things known which are complex enough to do so. It really is all about the biological and physical complexity of brains and therefore their causal powers.
 
Dualism?
 
Searle actually accuses those who accuse him of being a “dualist” of being, well, dualists (or at least some of them, depending on their overall philosophy of mind).
 
His basic position on this is that if computationalists or functionalists, for example, dispute the physical biology of brains and exclusively focus on syntax, computations and functions (the form/role rather than the physical embodiment), then that will surely lead to a kind of dualism. What I think he means by that is that there's a radical disjunction created between the actual physical reality of the brains and how these philosophers explain and account for intentionality, mind and consciousness.
 
Searle doesn't believe that only brains can give rise to minds. Searle's position is that only brains do give rise to minds. He's emphasising an empirical fact; though he's not denying the logical and metaphysical possibility that other things can bring forth minds.
 

Thursday, 26 February 2015

Thoughts on the Privacy of Pain


 

The notion of particular pain x belonging to a single person, and to no one else, has been said to lead to the position of the necessary irreducibility of pain. (This position has been applied to all other phenomenal states too.) It’s also said that a particular pain is “not dependent for its existence on anyone else”.

So where do we go from there?

If we communicate our pain to others, then we’ll use a public language to do so. (Wittgenstein, of course, stressed the point that all languages must be public.) And even that private experience will be coloured by a public language — at least to some extent. So it can be accepted that there is a sensory or experiential aspect — or even basis — to the pain. However, that can’t be communicated in its (as it were) purity to another person or even to oneself! And it certainly isn’t what’s often called an “objective fact”.

So what is it?

Perhaps the sensory experience is an ineffable x (whether Locke’s “something, I know not what” or Wittgenstein’s own “beetle in a box”) which simply grounds public-talk and even self-talk about it.

Another argument for the particularity — and therefore (perhaps) non-scientific nature — of pain is summed up in this sentence:

“No one else could have that particular pain.”

Is that any more strange than the fact that this brick can’t be like that brick over there? In addition, the precise colour (or trope) of that bee over there is unique. And even public utterances about any given pain x are singular in the sense that each one will be unique in some way. So are pains are anymore particular than these other things?

It’s also argued that no one else can feel my particular pain in the way I feel it. Ditto. One brick may be very similar to another brick. Still, it’s not the same brick.

Pain as an Objective Fact

Some philosophers have argued that a person’s pain is an “objective fact”: as as objective as anything else.

Sure; a pain is real and part of reality; though is it also an objective fact or an objective… anything?

There is indeed “something it is like” to be stung by a bee. However, calling that something an “objective fact” doesn’t seem to be correct.

Of course none of the above is a complete denial of the private aspects of a particular pain. Yet since we take a very circuitous route to the physical reality of, say, DNA, atoms or electrons, perhaps we can do the same for pains. (It’s true that this isn’t an exact like-for-like comparison.) Nonetheless, being “externally identifiable” may still not be a necessary criterion for something’s being physical.

Just as we can’t perceive particles, so we can’t feel (or perceive) another person’s pain — except through that person’s verbal and bodily behaviour. We believe in the existence of, say, quarks because of a lot of theory, models and, yes, observable phenomena. Then again, the clues we have for another person’s pain don’t necessarily mean that the pain is physical. The clues (behaviour) are physical; though their causes may be non-physical. (Human behaviour being equivalent to the “traces” of particles in, say, a cloud chamber.)

Consequently, much of behaviourism was about ways to make pain — and the mental generally — externally identifiable and thus scientifically kosher. Yet it can still be said that pain — and other private mental phenomena - underpin (whatever that may mean) behaviour and language use; as well as mental functions as they’re expressed in (to use Quine’s term) “overt behaviour”.

So, when it came to behaviourism at least, all this meant that various philosophical problems still remained when it came to the privacy of pain and indeed all other mental states.


[I can be found on Twitter here.]




Tuesday, 24 February 2015

P is Determinately True or False




The position of what’s sometimes called semantic realism is that every (grammatically-acceptable) statement (or proposition) is bivalent (i.e., it’s determinately true or false); as well as being evidence-transcendent (i.e., it’s true or false independently of our means of establishing its truth-value).

Thus if we take any given p, we can state this:

Proposition is determinately true (or false) regardless of any proof, evidence, experimental data, etc. we may (or may not) have for it.

This immediately elicits two questions:

1) Can a statement (or proposition) be determinately true (or false) regardless of whether we know it to be true (or false)?

2) Can a statement be true (or false) regardless of how we can show it to be true (or false)?

Despite those two questions, even if any given proposition p is determinately true (or false) regardless… so what? That supposedly determinate truth-value doesn’t seem to have any epistemic or metaphysical point. What I mean by that is if we can’t establish a procedure for determining p’s truth-value, then what purpose does the locution “Proposition p is determinately true or false” serve? That realist truth is effectively a “an idle wheel in the mechanism” that doesn’t have a function (to use a phrase from Wittgenstein).

So now let’s put some flesh on this so-far rather abstract problem.

Take the following passage (which is known as “Russell’s teapot”) from the English philosopher Bertrand Russell :

“If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes. But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense.”

Admittedly, it doesn’t really help matters that Russell gave us a silly (or simply humorous) example of a flying teapot between Earth and Mars. (Any other example/statement can do the same job just as well.) In any case, this is the central proposition in the quote above:

Between Earth and Mars there is a china teapot which is revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit.

Now is that statement determinately true (or false) at this moment in time?

My point here — perhaps unlike Russell’s own central point — isn’t really about the epistemic nature of any possible (or impossible) proof (or demonstration) of the truth or falsehood of that statement. After all, the semantic realist is claiming that proposition p is determinately true (or false) regardless of proof or lesser kinds of demonstration. In other words, his point isn’t about our epistemic means (or lack thereof) of demonstrating a proposition’s truth (or falsehood). And the sceptic’s position isn’t relevant here either in that — to the realist at least — even if a demonstration occurred in the future, proposition p would still be determinately true (or false) at this present moment in time.

Now at present there’s no way of determining the truth (or falsehood) of the statement “There is a teapot between Earth and Mars which is revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit”. Still, according to the realist, the statement is either true or false — determinately and at this moment in time. And any other given p is also determinately true (or false) at this moment in time.

But what if it does indeed matter how we determine any given statement’s truth (or falsehood)?

semantic anti-realist can settle for saying that a proposition (or statement) is truth-apt at this moment in time. However, a proposition can (or could) have its precise truth-value determined in the future and then it will “become” — simply — true. The realist, on the other hand, will counter that by arguing that proposition p is both truth-apt and true at this moment in time. (Later, the mathematician, logician, philosopher, scientist, etc. may come to determine its truth or falsity.)

To take just one often-cited example. What about the famous case of Fermat’s Last Theorem?

This is what the semantic realist will state:

Surely the proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem didn’t (as it were) bring about its truth.

(It was actually proved in 1993 by Andrew Wiles.)

The anti-realist (of which there are many kinds), on the other hand, would have said that Fermat’s Last Theorem had no truth until it was proved in 1993. Thus, to such an anti-realist, truth = proof.

The problem here is a proposition may be determinately true (or false) if it’s about a flying teapot flying around the sun. However, it may not be determinately true (or false) when it comes to an unproven mathematical statement or theorem. These two cases seem very different.

Bivalence Again

Having made all those anti-realist points above, it can still be argued that the rejection of bivalence isn’t actually a genuine rejection. That is, to argue that there’s a third truth-value (which is indeterminate) isn’t actually a rejection of a proposition’s being determinately true or false. What I mean by that is even if the truth-value of proposition p is indeterminate at this moment of time, then that simply tells us about our epistemic situation at this moment in time. In other words, even a realist can accept that any given proposition does indeed have an indeterminate truth-value for us right now. However, such a proposition is still determinately true (or false) right here and right now.



Friday, 20 February 2015

Wittgenstein & Heidegger: Parallel Spiritual Lives (Part Four)


 





Overcoming the Tradition as a Spiritual Act




Anti-Philosophy & Anti-Academia



“…what is the use of studying philosophy if all that it does for you is enable you to talk with some plausibility about some abstruse questions of logic, etc., and if it does not improve your thinking about the important questions of everyday life, if it does no make you more conscientious than any…journalist in the use of DANGEROUS phrases such people use for their own ends.” (Wittgenstein, 1944)



Heidegger too questioned the point of academic philosophy. Wittgenstein’s position, as articulated above, is very close to Heidegger’s own stance against academic philosophy.

Heidegger thought that academic philosophy “has no heart…for radical, revolutionary questioning” (Caputo, 1998). Indeed, although the debates in the departmental seminars can get a little heated at times (especially on trivial points of technical detail), the “institutional discourse is never ultimately disturbed by these debates, however lively [they are]” (Caputo, 1998). In fact, both Heidegger and Wittgenstein thought that “philosophising is a living act (Vollzug), a personal form of life” in which “the philosopher seeks for himself to make things questionable” (1998). It may not have been the case, however, that Wittgenstein thought, like Heidegger, that philosophy “is a normalising” discourse because Wittgenstein’s own radicalism isn't entirely of the same timbre as Heidegger’s (as we have seen in previous sections). That is, Heidegger’s radicalism is ultimately more political – yet still ethical/spiritual - than Wittgenstein’s, whereas Wittgenstein’s radicalism is of a more personal and spiritual bent.

So both Wittgenstein and Heidegger had a “vision of a culture in which philosophy was not a profession, nor art (Rorty, 1976)”.

Wittgenstein, in a letter to the logical positivist Maurice Schlick, once said that



from the bottom of my heart it is all the same to me what professional philosophers of today think; for it is not for them that I am writing” (1932).



Yet, strangely enough, it is, usually, only professional philosophers who think that they have got Wittgenstein right. That is, if professional philosophers accuse each other of “getting Wittgenstein wrong”, then what hope have non-professional persons got of getting him right? A few, though not many, Wittgensteinians may say, however, that non-professional Wittgensteinians have more chance of getting Wittgenstein right. Though this is certainly not the general view amongst, say, analytic Anglo-American philosophers.

Despite all that, Wittgenstein has of course been hugely influential outside the Philosophy Academy in the sky. Films-makers have produced works on him, poets have written poems about him, sociologists, psychologists, linguistics and even religious thinkers have stolen or used his ideas. Now this is strange, at a prima facie level, if we bear in mind the considerable complexity of Wittgenstein’s work – a complexity that also runs alongside considerable profundity. However, if the views articulated in this essay about Wittgenstein’s essential mysticism/spiritualism are correct, then perhaps it's not so strange - after all - that he is well loved outside philosophy departments. It may indeed be Wittgenstein’s unthought or thoughtless esoteric prose-style that appeals to all those people on the outside. (As well as all those people outside all academies.) There must be something of a non-complex or non-intellectual (or even anti-intellectual, as in Heidegger) nature that appeals to all these non-philosophers. Can we really accept the possibility, which some people (say, certain analytic philosophers) may state, that all of these outsiders have got Wittgenstein wrong?



The Solution(s): Metaphilosophy and the Desire to Overcome Philosophy



It is [Heidegger’s What is Metaphysics?] that Carnap chose to attack…But both Heidegger and Carnap were claiming to move beyond metaphysics, and Carnap’s article, for all its aggression, was not the cheap trading in misunderstanding its has sometimes been supposed to be…[Carnap argues that Heidegger] fails to take account of the history of philosophy he is disengaging and with which he is working…” (Marian Hobson, 1998) ¹¹



It's not surprising, to an Anglo-Saxon at least, that most of the great revolutionary and/or metaphilosophical philosophers of the past were either Austrian or German (e.g., Hegel, Marx, Heidegger, Wittgenstein and even the positivist Carnap written about in the above).

It was Hegel, himself a revolutionary metaphilosopher, who implanted into the psyche of the great Austro-German philosophical tradition the imperative that each new generation of philosophers must transcend the generation that had gone before. This was, to Hegel, the “spiritual destiny” of all good German philosophers.

So the philosopher Carnap, whose logical positivism claimed to “overcome metaphysics”, analysed a “metaphysical work” - in order to “overcome metaphysics” - which was itself attempting to overcome metaphysics.

To continue this interplay between Carnap and Heidegger: it's worth noting that Heidegger himself borrowed one of Carnap’s titles for one of his own works. All this shouldn't be too surprising, however: both Heidegger and Carnap were not only against traditional metaphysics: they were also against metaphysics for similar reasons.

For example, both of them were against the metaphysician’s desire to grab hold of morality and turn it into some kind of quasi-science in which the objects of study would be moral pre-existent ideas rather than objects, processes, etc. Heidegger thought that this shouldn't even be attempted. That is, morality and theology should have some kind of autonomy from philosophy. Carnap, on the other hand, thought this couldn't be done (at least during the period referred to here). He thought that the domains of theology and morality were empty and therefore not open to quantification. (Despite what some may call Carnap's “free and easy” attitude towards conceptual schemes or conventions.)

Heidegger also used the term “destruction” (as in the “destruction of metaphysics”). The term itself was borrowed from Martin Luther – his word destructio. (This in fact was Luther’s own tool for cutting through medieval scholastic intellectualism in order to re-find the pure truth and spirit of the New Testament.) And the post-structuralist movement in turn borrowed and then adapted this word to come up with the now famous term “deconstruction”.

Despite what both Heidegger and Wittgenstein (perhaps Derrida later) may have thought about their own destructivist, deconstructionist or therapeutic work, they weren't doing something new - or at least they weren't doing something that was entirely new. Rorty makes this clear in the following passage (which can be taken to be a potted history of meta-philosophy):



Heidegger [and Wittgenstein?] is not the first to have invented a vocabulary whose purpose is to dissolve the problems considered by his predecessors, rather than to propose new solutions to them. Consider Hobbes and Locke on the problems of the scholastics, and Carnap and Ayer on ‘pseudo-problems’. [And consider Socrates retreat from pre-Socratic natural philosophy.] He is not the first to have said that the whole mode of argument used in philosophy up until his day was misguided. Consider Descartes on method, and Hegel on the need for dialectical thinking…In urging new vocabularies for the statement of philosophical issues, or new paradigms of argumentation, a philosopher cannot appeal to antecedent criteria of judgment…Descartes and Hegel may have seemed ‘not real philosophers’ to many of their contemporaries, but they created new problems in place of the old…Many philosophers – practically all those whom we think of as founding movements – saw the entire previous history of philosophy as the working out of a certain set of false assumptions, or conceptual confusions…But only a few of these have suggested that the notion of philosophy itself – a discipline distinct from science, yet not to be confused with art or religion – was one of the results of these false starts.” (Rorty, 1976)



As far as Heidegger is concerned, although the German philosopher thought that metaphysics could only be overcome by “ceasing all overcoming and by leaving metaphysics to itself” (Heidegger), he didn't, in fact, succeed - at least not according to Jacques Derrida. The French philosopher thought that



any attempt to claim an escape from metaphysics necessarily involves the blind appeal to at least one metaphysical concept which compromises the escape the moment it is claimed” (see Bennington, 1997).



That is, according to Derrida himself, “complicity with metaphysics” is unavoidable. And elsewhere, referring directly to Heidegger, Derrida said: “…Heidegger, for example, worked within the inherited concepts of metaphysics.” Then Derrida goes even further by claiming that



Since these concepts are not elements or atoms, and since they are taken from a syntax and a system, every particular borrowing brings along with it the whole of metaphysics.”



So, for example, not only did Heidegger, as it were, inadvertently “borrow” the concept [Being], as Derrida seems to imply, I think that he wanted to and knowingly borrowed such a concept so as to connect himself with the metaphysical tradition he tacitly still admired or respected. This is the tradition that had more or less began with Aristotle and, to take just one example from the late 19th century, was still going strong with Brentano’s thoroughly Aristotelian philosophy.

To turn to Wittgenstein.

Although he was very anti-academic, it mustn't be forgotten that he spent at least twenty years as an academic (as did Heidegger). And throughout Wittgenstein’s life he spent most of his time almost exclusively in the company of other intellectuals (if not always with philosophers). So, perhaps for Wittgenstein, there was “no doing philosophy that does not engage (even if in the mode of denial) with the history…of philosophy” (Bennington, 1998). Though my own take on the thesis that if one assumes a meta-philosophical position, or “deconstructs the philosophical tradition”, or whatever, one is still contaminated, polluted or corrupted by that which one is attempting to overcome.

For example, I don't believe, in a certain sense, that Marx was actually a complete Marxist (as it were). Despite the fact that he “turned Hegel on his head”, it was still Hegel he turned on his head. So rather than saying that Marx was a “Left Hegelian”, why not simply say that he was a Hegelian simpliciter (or an Aristotelian rather than a “Left Aristotelian”)?

Similarly with Nietzsche.

The 19th century German philosopher was utterly shaped and formed by the Christianity he was trying to overcome. So much so that he even wrote a work, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, in the Old-Testament style (as well as other works in the New Testament style).

So it may have been with Wittgenstein.

He profoundly reacted against, for example, Cartesian internalism (even if he had never read Descartes). He therefore, in a sense, turned Descartes on his head and in so doing became a kind of proto-externalist (of the late 20th century variety). Of course, certain Wittgensteinians may say, along with certain Derrideans, that the “binary opposition” (Derrida’s term), externalism/internalism, is false; or it's at the least simply counterproductive in that its use will trap philosophical radicals within the system they are trying to overcome. (Of course, Wittgenstein had read Frege, Russell, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Kant, and many others, despite his protestations to the contrary.) In my view, again, it was Cartesian internalism and individualism that he most rejected. On the other hand, Kant, Schopenhauer, Kierkegaard, Frege and Russell were the philosophers he most accepted.

Wittgenstein’s spiritual path beyond the tradition, like Heidegger’s, wasn't so pure after all. Indeed, if one wants to achieve a state of pure unthought or thoughtlessness, then perhaps reading or writing lots - or even a little (in Wittgenstein’s case) - philosophy is perhaps not the best way to achieve that. (Even Zen unthought or thoughtlessness requires a hell of a lot of normal thought before it can achieve that state: if such a state can ever, in fact, be reached.)

In many cases Wittgenstein thought that the causes of philosophical confusion were philosophical questions themselves. In this sense he is like Heidegger and Derrida who both thought that in order to overcome or deconstruct western philosophy, we mustn't use its tools, confront its problems, or even ask traditional philosophical questions. (Derrida, however, unlike Heidegger, thought that we could never truly escape metaphysics.) In fact, Wittgenstein himself said, of philosophical questions (or at least traditional philosophical questions), that it “makes no sense to ask” (1947) these sort of questions in the first place.

Though it wasn't only Wittgenstein (in the Anglo-American analytic tradition) who had this sort of attitude towards the problems and questions of philosophy. The philosopher G. E. Moore, before Wittgenstein, said that the world itself didn't present him with any problems. (Not problems that made him want to philosophise anyway.) He claimed to have been turned into a philosopher not through a love of philosophy or a sense of metaphysical perplexity or astonishment; but because of the nonsense talked and written about by other philosophers. (Not only was this term “nonsense” often used by Wittgenstein too, it was also a favourite put-down used by all types of 20th century analytic philosophers.)

As Heidegger put it, we “must strive to overcome” these questions if we are to be free from them. We can't be free of them, on the other hand, if we still insist in trying to refute or answer them. (At least this is what Heidegger thought and Wittgenstein might have thought.)

Conclusion

It may be wise to finish with a passage from a philosopher who – sometimes - attempts to walk across the dangerous no-man’s land between Heidegger’s Continental philosophy and Wittgenstein’s Anglo-American analytic philosophy. And because of his precarious position between these two (sometimes) warring factions, it's perhaps not surprising that he neither venerates Wittgenstein nor drags him down.

Here is Richard Rorty on Cavell’s Wittgenstein:



“…[Cavell’s philosophy] helps us realise what Wittgenstein did for us…[He] raised the question of the moral worth of our epistemology courses, of our discipline, of our form of life…Wittgenstein suffered from, and constantly complained about, the company he had to keep in the course of this endeavour…[he] produced writings…a host of commentators will not be able to construe as offering ‘philosophical theories’ or ‘solutions to philosophical problems’.” (Rorty, 1980-81)



In many respects, the analytic philosophers who've claimed Wittgenstein as their own, may be, in many cases, precisely the kind of philosophers, and perhaps people, that Wittgenstein said he “suffered from” and “complained about”.

Heidegger too questioned “the moral worth” of our philosophy courses. And yet the philosopher who's so like Wittgenstein in so many ways is also the philosopher whom many analytic philosophers have traditionally suspected or even despised.

                       ***********************************************************
Notes:

1) The many American academics who've taken on board the Continental tradition, and who also almost entirely sympathise with it, have also taken on board its style/s as well as its philosophical obsessions.

2). I similarly appreciate Rorty’s “demystifications” of the parallel self-conscious obsession with analytic and stylistic purity in Anglo-American analytic philosophy, as well as, at times, its quite obvious pedantry that often hides under the label “analysis”.

3) Or, on the other hand, what Tyler Burge calls the “obscure, evocative, metaphorical, or platitudinous” discussions of “social factors” in philosophy (1979, in his ‘Individualism and the Mental’).

4) The following passage touches on the ‘private language argument’:



“…in the Third Meditation, when Descartes attempts to identify his essence as a subject by feigning a set of impossible conditions. He proposes to close his eyes, shut his ears, suspend his senses, efface from his thoughts all images of corporeal things…But Descartes’ effort to achieve a more familiar acquaintance with himself could only take place through an interior conversation with himself, which implies the use of representation and the exchange of signs – that is to say, the material and thus necessarily metaphorical character of language – at the very moment when he pretends to exclude from his thoughts all images of corporeal things. (page 46, Derrida and Deconstruction, edited by Hugh J. Silverman, 1989)



5) This is despite the fact that I have much stronger leanings towards the Anglo-American analytic tradition than I have towards most of the Continental tradition/s. So it may be interesting to read this comparison between Wittgenstein and Heidegger that occurred within the analytic tradition:



The state of affairs ‘presented’ by the picture or sentence is thus presented by us, by our making a picture. Therefore, a picture or a sentence is the act of presenting a state of affairs…one could believe one was reading Heidegger.” (Stenius, 1963)



6) That is, if a man thinks that it will rain, then he must exist.

7) There's also this passage from Kant’s Critique:



“ …the principles of reason…do not conduct us to any theological truths…we recognise [reason’s] right to assert the existence of a perfect and absolutely necessary being, [but] this can be admitted only from favour, and cannot be regarded as the result of irresistible demonstration.” (Critique of Pure Reason, Transcendental Dialectic)



See also S. Körner:



The Critique of Pure Reason has made room for faith… Although ‘morality leads unavoidably to religion’ an act of faith is required to close the logical gap between morality and the Idea of God…” (pg. 169, Kant, by S. Körner)



  1. What I call the “Protestant strand” of Catholicism (or, at the least, of Catholic theology and philosophy) has a much longer lineage than is commonly thought by many people on the outside of the faith - especially many Protestants. Indeed, as Kierkegaard says in this essay, it can be traced back to St. Paul (see Kierkegaard’s passage near the top of the ‘Religion, Metaphysics and Reason’ section).


9) This is an historical account of Germany’s attitude towards reason and rationalism:



Theory was not the strong point of movements devoted to the inadequacies of reason and rationalism and the superiority of instinct and will. They attracted all kinds of reactionary theorists in countries with an active intellectual life – Germany is an obvious case in point.” (Eric Hobsbawn, in his Age of Extremes, 117)



It's also worth noting Wittgenstein’s anti-Semitism here. Biographically, most of the Wittgenstein family had converted to Christianity by 1838 and Wittgenstein’s grandfather promptly developed a reputation for being an anti-Semite. What of Wittgenstein himself? For example, he once wrote that “the Jew lacks those qualities which distinguish the races that are creative and hence culturally blessed” (1931). He also referred to “the Jews’ secretive and cunning nature”.

10) For example, Michael Dummett and what he sees as Wittgenstein’s destruction of “the grounds” that would be needed in order to construct a “viable theory of meaning”.

11) See also Marian Hobson: “…only a little later than these works of Heidegger, Rudolf Carnap’s logical positivism proclaimed the ‘overcoming of metaphysics’ and famously used examples from Heidegger’s Was ist Metaphysik? (1929) to show that they couldn't be turned into logical-syntactically well formed sentences (Carnap 1932)…Carnap [however] is tolerant of Nietzsche because what he wrote was ‘literature’. (Note 14, page 237, Hobson). It's also worth saying here that Derrida too couldn’t really “overcome metaphysics”, as he admitted. Indeed that was probably partly the case for simple geographical or cultural reasons. That is, he was brought up in the midst of the Austro-German-Franco philosophical tradition he tried to overcome. And because he couldn’t overcome traditional philosophy and still be a philosopher, perhaps that’s partly why he turned almost exclusively to literature and other non-philosophical areas in his later years. Had he been an American or an Englishman, he would have found it so much easier to overcome the tradition. After all, the metaphysical tradition doesn’t actually mean that much to the average Anglo-American. This is why, I think, Rorty is more successful, in certain ways at least, at criticising the tradition, if not overcoming it, than Derrida. He is certainly more so than Heidegger. Though Rorty too has turned to literature and other non-philosophical areas. I think that in this endless parade of one-upmanship, both Derrida and Rorty went too far. The truth of the philosophical tradition is blindingly simple as well as being very unsexy. That is, some parts of the tradition are right and some parts are wrong. Or, conversely, some parts of the backlash against the tradition are right and some parts are wrong. Rorty’s blanket dismissal of, say, analytic philosophy and much of continental philosophy simply doesn’t work in its entirety.




Wittgenstein & Heidegger: Parallel Spiritual Lives (Part Three)


Heidegger and Wittgenstein on Philosophy and Ethics



“…a philosophy which is going to be ethics and metaphysics in one, though they have previously been so falsely separated, like soul and body.” (Schopenhauer, 1813/1988)



Heidegger on Ethico-Ontology




“…he inherited from Hegel…the recognition that an individual life means very little in isolation, that what we are is defined by our place in a community and in history. We make our choices only within a social and historical context, and they have no significance outside such a context. Thus Heidegger, like Hegel, emphasises the historicity of Dasein and the ultimate insignificance of the individual even while he praises individual resolution. Our resolution is not (as in Kierkegaard and Nietzsche) one of going against the crowd but rather of giving it our personal affirmation. Taken as a whole the message of Heidegger’s philosophy is unabashedly conservative.” (Continental Philosophy Since 1750: the Rise and Fall of the Self, 166)



Returning to Heidegger.

Let’s turn away from Heidegger’s attitudes towards science, etc., which we covered earlier, and turn instead towards his positions on philosophy itself.

Heidegger distrusted traditional western philosophy and what he saw as its basically Aristotelian urge to trap things in categories. Essentially, Heidegger’s stance on these issues was ethical, if not actually or overtly religious/spiritual. Derrida neatly expresses Heidegger’s fears about, for example, traditional ontology:



Incapable of respecting the Being and meaning of the other…ontology would be [a] philosophy of violence.” (1967/1978)



Heidegger himself wrote:



If the other could be possessed, seized, and known, it would not be the other. To possess, to know, to grasp are all synonyms of power.” (1978/67)



In the following passage there are further elaborations on the dangers of an all encompassing “instrumental rationality”:



“…Heidegger says that when ‘the spirit is degraded into intelligence, into a tool…the energies of the spiritual process, poetry and art, statesmanship and religion, become subject to conscious cultivation and planning’…” (1926/1962)



The essential ethical or even spiritual pull of such positions can be more clearly seen if one compares such views to the positions of (straight) theological writers and philosophers of religion (or religious philosophers).

For example, Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973) believed that in the “standpoint of objectivity” one must assume the position of a “spectator” rather than a “participator”. It will therefore follow from this that one will also conceive of oneself as external to - and detached from - the object, person or event under scrutiny (1950). Marcel’s position is therefore not unlike Wittgenstein’s anti-Cartesian externalism.

Martin Buber too expresses a quasi-Wittgensteinian attitude (not unlike the one above); though this time within a slightly more epistemological context. (This position too has an ethical dimension that isn't so explicitly or overtly found in Wittgenstein himself.) That is, Buber stressed the importance of the “presentness” and “concreteness” that's clearly apparent when we come across or scrutinise persons or objects (or, in Buber’s ethical sense, the “other”). In this externalist manner, Buber believed that one should stay well clear of the methods and beliefs of the Cartesian epistemological tradition (in which the subject both is - and is required to be - purified from external world excrescences (1990)). That is, the Cartesian epistemic spectator wants to replace the clear “singularity” or particularity of each unique interaction with objects, persons or events (1967). However,



[Reason] cannot replace the smallest perception of something particular and unique with its gigantic structure of general concepts.” (1964, Buber)



Schopenhauer (who is particularly relevant to this essay) also offers us a quasi-ethical take on the problems of ontological scrutiny. He writes:



To intuit, to let the things themselves speak to us…only afterwards to deposit and store this in concepts in order to possess it securely…” (Schopenhauer, 1813/1969)



The ethico-religious dimensions of the passages quoted above can also be contrasted here with Gilbert Ryle’s somewhat ethico-religious take on the Cartesian individualistic [i.e., subjectivist] philosophy of mind and also Cartesian internalist epistemology:



When the [Cartesian] epistemologists’ concept of consciousness first became popular, it [was]…in part a transformed application of the Protestant notion of conscience. The Protestant had to hold that a man could know the moral state of his mind…without the aid of confessors and scholars…” (Ryle, 1949)



That is, just as introspective moral indubitability was needed by the Protestant to keep himself well clear of Catholic (as well as Protestant) scholars and other intellectuals, so too was introspective epistemological indubitability needed by the Cartesian epistemologist to keep himself clear of the Scholastic philosophical tradition and the falsehoods of other people and the external world (amongst other things).

Cartesians, just like good Protestants, were thoroughly autonomous beings.

Looking forward, perhaps 20th century “ontology of the social”, “or social ontology”, has been just a little bit too catholic in its general attitudes. It's therefore no coincidence that both Wittgenstein and Heidegger were brought up in Catholic environments. Though despite the fact, for example, of Heidegger’s semi-negative attitude towards Thomist- Aristotelian ontology, he still embraced, at one time, Catholic Scottist ontology. And it's also worth mentioning here that Wittgenstein had certain strong affinities with Protestantism, which perhaps can be seen in his less political (than Heidegger’s) “social ontology” and also in the philosophical social positions of Wittgenstein that have been and will be commented upon.



Wittgenstein and Heidegger’s Ethico-Ontological Particularism



Heidegger, like Wittgenstein, was what I call a particularist rather than a generalist. And like Wittgenstein in, say, his Philosophical Investigations, Heidegger, say, in his Being and Time, also provided very many particular examples and illustrations (e.g., the often-quoted mundane one about a hammer). Indeed Wittgenstein himself was such a diligent and particular particularist that he might well have hated my term “particularist” - it too is an example of a generalisation (i.e., a generalisation about particularism and, for that matter, generalism). Wittgenstein might have thought that this term (as he thought with all other ’isms and ’ists) would have somehow trapped his thoughts (or unthoughts) in its tiny semantic box.

Wittgenstein once claimed to have never read the arch-generalist Aristotle. Heidegger, on the other hand, did read the Greek philosopher and in considerable detail. And from that deep knowledge of Aristotle he developed a deep distrust of Aristotle’s generalisations and the general Aristotelian “craving for generality” (Wittgenstein’s term). Heidegger saw Aristotle’s categorial obsessions as a desire to “seize…[the] object” (Caputo, 224). That is, Aristotle and other philosophers used categories and concepts to “master…[their] material [and] reduce the individual to an instance of the general” (Caputo, 1998). In so doing, many philosophers (Aristotelian and non-Aristotelian alike) thought that they had succeeded in creating a hierarchical relationship between the “imperfect” and the “perfect” (1998). And, implicitly (or, sometimes, explicitly), it was always the imperfect (or particular) that was subsumed under the perfect (or general).

This is Christopher Norris’s take on Heidegger’s anti-Aristotelian particularism:



Language itself perpetuates the rationalist parcelling-out of experience into categories like ‘subject’ and ‘object’…the mastery of nature by reason. To think one’s way beyond such categories is to ask, with Heidegger, not how things exist, but why they should exist in the first place.” (Norris, 1982/1999)



One can’t help but notice affinities in the above with a famous passage in the Tractatus:



Not how the world is, is the mystical, but that it is.” (1921, 6.44)



Heidegger found a way of thinking that he believed is superior to post-Socratic and Aristotelian thought. He found it in certain pre-Socratics.

For example, he might well have been inspired by Heraclites’s teachings in which processes, rather than discrete things, were the prime ontological category. In fact Heidegger might have even seen Heraclites’s position as going against the very idea of categorisation altogether and not, instead, of mistakenly putting processes at the top of the ontological hierarchy (as was the case with A. N. Whitehead).

Heidegger also thought that the post-Socratics and Aristotle were guilty of supplanting the “poetic thinking” of the earlier Greeks. So whereas Heidegger’s great bugbear was Aristotelian categorisation, perhaps Wittgenstein’s bugbear (as it was with the logical positivists, etc.) was Hegelian generalisation. Actually, Wittgenstein did once say:



Hegel seems to me to be always wanting to say that things which look different are really the same, whereas my interest is in showing that things which look the same are really different.” (1946).



Wittgenstein even criticised Darwin along similar lines. He said that the great biologist’s evolutionary theory “hasn’t the necessary multiplicity” (1946). Freud, on the other hand and according to Wittgenstein, was actually a particularist with delusions of being a generalist (i.e., a scientist!). Wittgenstein thought that Freud “had been seduced by the method of science” (1943) and the “craving for generality”. (Deconstruction also sees itself as defending and stressing “singularities”.)

Heidegger too thought that philosophy had “been in the constant predicament of having to justify its existence before the ‘sciences’”. Philosophy therefore believed, according to Heidegger, that “it [could] do that most effectively by elevating itself to the rank of a science” (Heidegger, trans 1977).

Heidegger wanted to escape from this science-worship or science-envy and “return thinking to its element” (trans 1977). Of course such a return to tribal thought or thoughtlessness, as it were, was, as Heidegger conceded, almost bound to be called “irrationalism” by positivistic philosophers (trans 1977). So almost inevitably Heidegger’s creed was indeed deemed to be a creed of irrationalism by the logical positivists or logical empiricists. (As well as by, it must be added, by the English and American analytics who were themselves under the spell of a – possible? – “verificationist mis-reading” of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus.)



Heidegger and Wittgenstein on Society



“…. the Greek states, in which every individual enjoyed an independent existence but could when the need arose, grow into the whole organism…now made way for an ingenious clockwork, out of the piecing together of innumerable but lifeless parts, a mechanical kind of collective life ensues…[the individual] never develops the harmony of his being…he becomes nothing more than the imprint…of his specialised knowledge.” (Friedrich Schiller)



Heidegger hated science-worship and despaired because of what he thought was the resultant “flight of the gods”. Heidegger essentially looked back to the pre-Socratics for a vision of “Being” that was unencumbered by “instrumental rationality”. He had a lot of admiration for the early Greeks. Indeed the idealisation of the ancient Greeks was by Heidegger’s day a firmly entrenched Austro-German custom. Heidegger himself thought, particularly, that the ancient Greeks didn't experience anxiety in quite the same way that modern Western man experiences anxiety. The early Greeks, therefore, had no big problem with the “meaninglessness of life” (or even the meaninglessness of particular existences). Of course Nietzsche too (another admirer of the Greeks and also a strong influence on Heidegger), for example, had many positive things to say about the ancient Greeks. ⁷

Heidegger believed that “modern man” suffered from anxiety or angst because he had a rootless, nihilistic and technological “understanding of Being”. So, unlike Hegel and, say, 19th century British Victorians, Heidegger saw the history of the west as a gradual decline.

Heidegger also gave his reasons why past eras didn't experience anxiety, nihilism and the sense of meaninglessness in quite the way that 20th century man did.

For example, he thought that the temple, in certain past cultures, provided an axis around which the rest of society revolved. The temple gave them rules and regulations on how to live “good lives”. Later we had the medieval cathedral. This in turn taught the people the concepts of, for example, salvation and damnation. In this period everyone knew their place in the “larger scheme of things” and also knew precisely what they had to do in this earthly life. However, our own culture has become more and more inclined to treat all things as “mere objects”. Also, most of modern man’s moral and social guidelines had been jettisoned. He didn't know how to behave or even what to think. This was indeed a state of “nihilism”, according to Heidegger.

It may well be too easy to take a rather cynical view of Heidegger’s love for past eras:



“…Heidegger’s critique of technology and science...[may] sound merely nostalgic for a shadowy past of natural peasant respect for things and for the surrounding world…” (Marian Hobson, 1998)



Wittgenstein too had a similarly negative view of 20th century existence. He believed that Western culture had lost the cohesiveness that had existed in the past between different “forms of life”. The result of this was that generations of Europeans had suffered from a slow decay: as Heidegger also thought. Indeed Wittgenstein believed that many 20th century western Europeans essentially lived in an world without any culture. That is, it was an age in which everyone had nothing but private ends to work towards.

Wittgenstein, like many of his predecessors (as well as his contemporary Heidegger), blamed all the foregoing on the rise of the scientific-industrial “civilisation”. This was a civilisation within which there was a naïve and superficial belief that technological “progress” would solve our physical and spiritual problems. It was also a civilisation in which people had a somewhat superficial attitude towards philosophical knowledge.

Early Wittgenstein believed that much of his philosophy could be used as a solution to many of these inconsequential forms of thinking and acting.

Much of what Wittgenstein believed might well have been influenced by his reading, in his Tractarian period, of Spengler’s famous The Decline of the West (1918-22). In this once-popular book it is stated that in a strong society and culture there must be an equally strong “public space” in which there would be opportunities for people to share their beliefs and pursuits; as well as to allow less direct interrelationships between social areas as diverse as science, art, religion, social policy and so on. In this Spenglerian society, each individual happily contributed to many areas of communal interaction and organisation.