Idee Fixe

Some time ago across the indifferent centuries someone became convinced that in order for us to rely on what knowledge we have, we must identify the foundation for that knowledge.  Whoever it was who did so also came to the conclusion (how, one wonders?) that in order for that foundation to be secure, to itself be reliable, that foundation had to be basic, simple, derived from nothing else.  If it was derivative in some sense this would have to be due to the fact that it resulted from some form of interpretation on our part, and how could we rely on that?  Our interpretation would necessarily be of something.  What reason do we have to believe that something is true or real or certain?

Because it was assumed that we can only rely on something singular, or stand-alone, and somewhat grudgingly believed that we can only know things through experience, effort was made to identify just what it is that we really and directly and essentially experience.  Some said sense-data, some said only an idea of sense data.  Some said other things.

That someone started something, obviously, and we have been in some senses paying for it ever since.  We have been busy manufacturing that essential thing that is the foundation for our knowledge.  The effort to determine that foundation is, one would think, impossible; once one begins to think in this fashion (if one has that misfortune), one is seemingly bound to maintain that our analysis of the issue is itself "tainted" at the outset.  That's because our thought is already based on what we think we know and can rely on, and we can't know or rely on anything without establishing that the foundation for what we know is secure.

Perhaps this is what brought Kant and others to conclude that there's something a priori in our minds or elsewhere, and resulted in the view that we can never really know the "external world" which I remarked on in the prior post or that we "shape" that annoying and persistent world we are fated to encounter in one way or another.

Regardless, if we are fated not to know what the "external world" really is, then we are so fated, whether we like it or not.  If we are not so fated, then we are not so fated, whether we like it or not.

I myself am reasonably convinced that the "external world" is pretty much as we think it is, i.e. as our minds, senses, experience and devices indicate.  That we have much more to learn about I take as a given, but that doesn't mean we can't rely on what we have learned.  When thinking of knowledge, I think of it not in abstract, not as in the nature of a thing, but a process employed by us in our daily lives.  I tend to think most of us think this way, in the rare instances when we think of knowledge instead of using our knowledge in some manner.

As is no doubt apparent to those who have taken the time to read this blog, I'm confounded by philosophy's concern with matters which seem to make no difference, and especially with matters that cannot make any difference, to how we live. It would seem to me to be a worthy subject for investigation, but I'm unaware of any. If any of those who do me the honor of reading these musings know of any, I'd appreciate a reference. I'm increasingly convinced this concern--fascination may be a more appropriate word--has a psychological basis.

It is unfortunate, but I think this concern has played its part in convincing many that philosophy is irrelevant, or an idle pastime, or dead.  That is tragic.  But philosophy doesn't have to be any of those things, and there are philosophers who have and are interested in making a difference in how we live.  Most of them lived in ancient times, when philosophy was considered vital even by the powerful.  Somewhere along the way, philosophy became distracted, to our detriment.

"According to Nature"

This may be considered the ultimate directive of Stoicism, its answer to the question:  "How should we live?"  Taken in itself it seems rather vague guidance, however.

There are some systems or theories of ethics that purport to set forth a single rule to govern us in moral conduct or making moral judgments.  The quasi-hermit Kant, who seemed (naturally enough, perhaps, given his very limited experience of the world) to think it necessary to develop such a rule to avoid the horror of having to make judgments on a case-by-case basis, came up with his categorical imperative.  The Utilitarians manufactured (it seems an appropriate word) the principle of utility.  It would certainly be convenient if we had one rule on which we could rely whenever decisions are to be made.  Then we could avoid thinking, which is such a chore for us all.  It in any case seems that we have, throughout our history, sought for single rules and explanations for those things, questions and problems that concern us.

This seems a hopeless quest in most cases, though.  The classical Pragmatists thought there can be no single rule where moral judgments are concerned.  They valued thinking and the application of intelligence, which Dewey called "inquiry."  Rules such as the categorical imperative, the principle of utility, the Golden Rule, may all provide guidance to us in our decision making, but they should be considered guidelines, not rules or laws to be relentlessly and absolutely applied in all cases regardless of the circumstances.  Moral judgments are practical decisions; they should not be based on some absolute law or injunction.  Each ethical problem we encounter will be unique, as we will not encounter exactly the same circumstances in each case.  We consider the situation in the context of our history, various norms cultural and otherwise, our desires, means and ends, past decisions and their consequences, we employ our intelligence, make a decision and take the results into consideration in making future decisions.

Does Stoicism make the same attempt to establish one rule to be employed in all cases?  "Live according to nature" seems vague indeed, but some clarification is provided by the Stoics, and it will be seen this directive can be very broad.  Living according to nature apparently includes discerning things in our control and things out of our control, focusing on what we can control and remaining indifferent to what is not.  It requires the employment and development of our reason, which is peculiar to human nature (and traditionally said to be the part of the divine in which we share).  It mandates that we recognize ourselves as citizens of the world, that we honor the "brotherhood of man."  It teaches us not to be acquisitive or selfish, i.e. to seek and obtain mere things.

By living in accordance with nature, we perceive ourselves to be parts of nature, parts of the universe, and rather small parts at that.  Wealth, glory, power, popularity, domination all appear insignificant in that context.  Our acknowledgment we are parts of the universe encourages us not to see other parts of the universe as subject to our exploitation, i.e. as there exclusively for our use and enjoyment.

The dictum "live according to nature" may most sensibly be seen not as a single rule, but as encompassing various guides to living--not only to achieve personal tranquility but to beneficially interact with other parts of the universe, not merely humans but other creatures and things.  The criticism sometimes made of Stoicism, that it is essentially selfish, is unfounded as Stoicism is based on considering life from a universal perspective, and such a perspective renders selfishness infantile.