An Engaging Rant by Edward St. Amant

I suppose his Atheism, Skepticism and Philosophy might also be described as a screed.  In any case, I downloaded it on my admirable Nook, and am currently reading it.  I find myself in sympathy with much that he writes.  He has the disconcerting habit of referring to "women and men" (instead of "men and women") which is not seriously objectionable, but has an annoying whiff of political correctness about it.  He also has a somewhat bewildering habit of citing the years of birth and death of the great figures of philosophy, and others, he more often than not denigrates.  Their respective life-spans do not seem of great importance generally or for purposes of his book.  More significantly for me, his only (passing) reference thus far to pragmatism as a philosophy seems uninformed--he is apparently among those who think, incorrectly, that it sanctions subjectivsim and cultural relativism, a view which I think is defensible only if one hasn't read the pragmatists, or has limited reading to Rorty, who was not one but periodically claimed he was, or James, who was an important figure in pragmatism but was a kind of extremist in certain things.

The Web tells me he's written a good deal, largely fiction it seems, but tells me little about his education or background.  I don't know if he's a professional philosopher; since he's critical of them, I doubt it.  I find him engaging, of course, because we agree that modern philosophy no longer seems concerned with the problems we encounter in life or, to the extent it is concerned, has abandoned reason as the most intelligent means by which to resolve those problems.  Of course, I'm no philosopher, as someone named "Anonymous" noted kindly in response to a prior post about Heidegger.  So the fact that St. Amant may not be one either doesn't in and of itself disturb me.

To summarize his points as I understand them:  Those who are generally referred to as Continental philosophers glorify the irrational and even indulge in mysticism, particularly the "Teutonic" philosophers such as Nietzsche, Hegel and Heidegger; those who are generally referred to as Analytic have narrowed the scope of philosophy to such an extent that it is essentially irrelevant, and can be said to have abandoned reason to the extent that they have accepted Hume's position that we just can't really know whether, e.g., the sun will rise tomorrow.  The Analytics due to the narrowness of their focus have abandoned philosophy as a guide to living and solving the problems of life, and have as a result abandoned the field to the irrationalists and the mystics. 

I'll be interested in where he takes this, but can't help but note that his criticisms of modern philosophy and views regarding what should be the concerns of a philosopher are similar to those of the pragmatists with whom I'm primarily familiar, such as Peirce, Dewey and Hook.  I think he may be too critical of religion qua religion, though think his criticisms of organized religion are apt.  The belief in a God need not be destructive or necessarily contra reason, even if it cannot be established by reason.  Being prejudiced in their favor, I'll note the stoics as representative of such a belief.

He's also clearly engaged in a defense of Western culture and democracy, from what I'd call a classical liberal perspective, and I find that engaging as well.  I suspect he may be a libertarian, although I hope not a Libertarian.  We shall see.  In any case, it's far more likely I'll finish reading his book than I'll finish reading Maimonides' Guide.

On Reason and Religious Belief

Well, Maimonides, whom I mentioned in the prior post, thus far seems content to guide the perplexed by such devices as noting that, based on his translation of the Hebrew, statements appearing in the Old Testament to the effect that various individuals saw God don't really mean that they saw him as a corporeal being.  God, after all, is not a corporeal being, and so cannot be seen.  Therefore, such statements mean that they discerned him in whatever fashion a non-corporeal being may be discerned.  I hope his Guide gets better, but will reluctantly put it aside for a time.

Yesterday while driving I heard courtesy of Book Radio (no, the pictures are not in your head, no matter what they say) one of Chesterton's Father Brown stories.  I've enjoyed reading some of them, but this particular one served only to remind me of his unsatisfyingly breezy, dismissive way of handling criticism of religion.  Father Brown's ministry, apparently, has exposed him to all the artifices of thieves and so he catches a notorious one in the story in question; such was its rather dubious point.  What caught my attention, though, was the good Father's statement that he knew someone pretending to be a priest was not one because he (the fake priest) spoke badly of reason and that is not good theology according to Father Brown.

I'm not sure I agree.  Ultimately reason, I think, is not good theology; instead, it shows us theology is not good (yes, I'm imitating Chesterton's relentlessly playful style).  Certainly reason may be employed in theology as it may be employed in any form of argument, but I know of no basis on which reason demonstrates the existence of God, let alone the God of Christianity.  I think Chesterton himself said as much, in fact.

Assuming this to be the case, what does that tell us about belief in God?  Reason is very useful in assisting us in various ways, in learning about things, in solving problems, in noting error and avoiding error.  It would seem that at the least it can be maintained that reason is not useful in ascertaining the existence of a God.  More specifically, the existence of God is not something amenable to reason; it can't be demonstrated or verified in the way things amenable to reason can be.  I think it's foolish to maintain it can be, even if one accepts such arguments as those of Aristotle.  Even if we assume that reason tells us there was a First Mover, what reason do we have to believe that First Mover is God as most believe God to be?

The religious should abandon any claim that reason establishes the existence of God, I think, together with the claim that religion has a rational basis.  The quest to provide a basis for religious belief of the same kind as that which supports scientific conclusions, or even those of logic, is foolish.  As well try to do so with our appreciation of poetry, or music, or beauty, or any feeling of transcendence.  Our feelings regarding such things are arational, as it were.  The existence of such feelings can be verified, but the bases for them can't--unless it can be established that we have them because we are "hardwired" to have them, which I think is the same as to say we've evolved in such a fashion as to experience them in certain circumstances.

If that's the case, however, we have them because it is our nature to have them.  If it's our nature to have them, though, why deny them, or why claim that they are improper or misguided?

Perplexed by Maimonides

I'm in the midst of reading his Guide to the Perplexed and am, thus far, perplexed rather than guided.

I can understand why he would feel that those who have studied philosophy, like his student to whom this is addressed, would find God as characterized in what even we lapsed Christians call the Old Testament to be a rather unsatisfactory deity.  The reader of Aristotle and Plato (addressing the philosophical greats of the time) would think the capricious, jealous, angry, sometimes joyous but more often relentlessly oppressive God of the Hebrews less than divine.

I suppose he really has no choice in attempting to defend that God but to maintain that metaphor is the answer, i.e. that much of what is written cannot be taken on its face, but is rather a series of parables.  He seems to claim that this is necessary because those always present and ever-dull common people (those not schooled in philosophy) could not comprehend what is really intended, and so must be led cheerfully by the nose, as it were, through the employment of this engaging artifice.  This is not an unexpected conceit on his part.  But he also seems to claim that the assorted metaphors, tales and parables--the careful effort made to avoid any direct, straightforward, clear statement of the attributes and intent of the deity--is necessary regardless; is needed even for the benefit of those trained in philosophy.

I find this sort of thing troubling.  Defending the unclear on the ground that it must be unclear seems rather weak, even evasive, though it can certainly be convenient.  But we shall see.  I suspect I'll never be satisfied by any defense of religion or religious belief, and it may simply be the case that there can be no reasonable defense.  Religion, in other words, may not be reasonable.  If it is not, the question to be addressed is--should it be reasonable?

Thoughts on the Limitations of Libertarianism

I have a certain sympathy for the libertarian view, as I've noted before on this blog.  That is to say, it troubles me when government acts to restrict our thought or conduct, when we don't harm others.  As to our thought, I see no basis on which government should restrict us at all.  When harm results from our conduct, then government may legitimately exercise its police power to regulate us; just how much it should do so is a complicated matter, and the extent of harm required to justify the restriction is not an easy issue to address either. 

Libertarianism is often justified by reference to natural or God-given rights.  Not being particularly religious, I'm not inclined to claim God as a basis for the unfettered exercise of conduct, or thought for that matter.  I'm not so opposed to reference to nature in these circumstances, though, if what is referred to is human nature, and the fact that we have certain characteristics and abilities in common, generally desire certain things, like happiness, peace and comfort and reasonably believe we should not be unnecessarily imposed on by government or others provided we do no harm.

Well and good.  Government should leave us alone, for the most part.  But if I think there is value in certain things, like happiness, peace and comfort, and that I should be allowed to achieve them, doesn't it follow that others should be allowed to do so as well?  What, then, if they can't, not because of restrictions imposed by government, but because of their circumstances?  Does the libertarian opposition to government restrictions entail opposition to government action to improve the circumstances of those who are not in the position to live in happiness, peace and comfort?

I would say no; this doesn't seem to follow.  But, to improve the circumstances of others, government needs resources, and it has none unless it taxes or imposes fees for government services.  When it imposes taxes or fees, it restricts the abilities of some to pursue what they think is appropriate or desirable.  Is it appropriate to oppose this kind of restriction?

It is inherent in the position that we each have certain rights that others have such rights in addition to ourselves.  So, it can't be maintained that those who cannot exercise such rights don't have them.  It can only be maintained that they can't exercise them, because they're less fortunate than we are.

Should the response to this be "that's too bad" or (shudder) "that must be the way God wants it to be" or some variant?  This seems a mean, selfish, contemptible option.  What is the libertarian response?  Will the fabled "Invisible Hand" make all right eventually?  That seems just another kind of mysticism.

I just finished a book by Larry Hickman about John Dewey and his "pragmatic technology."  I may have more to say about this later.  But I was struck by his explanation of Dewey's response to those on the left and the right who maintained that he was naive to believe that we can remedy economic and other social problems through the exercise of intelligence and education.   Dewey was accused of being sentimental, and it was claimed pragmatism provided no justification for the betterment of others.

Dewey's response, according to Hickman, was that it was only reasonable to improve the condition of those who were poor, illiterate, unskilled, etc.  By doing so, we can avoid violence (through revolution and otherwise).  We can increase their contribution to society which will inevitably better our own position.  They can become investors and participants in the social enterprise rather than outcasts or parasites.

So there can be some pragmatic basis for social welfare (even in the common sense of "pragmatic").  There need be nothing of the charitable impulse involved, if that makes anyone uncomfortable.  The question then is how to go about it effectively.

On Romanticism and Technology; Heidegger's "Question Concerning Technology"

Sometimes, I would maintain, a chalice is just a chalice.  Similarly, a hydroelectric plant is just a hydroelectric plant. 

Each are made, by humans.  Each are examples of technology (Heidegger is I think quite correct to construe "technology" broadly; just about all we do constitutes technology of a sort).  Each have a function.

Obviously, they like most everything else can be employed in the fashioning of metaphors.  They may be used as examples.  Their differences may be noted.  They may be subjects of poetry.  One might say a chalice, as a sacrificial vessel, and made as one, is in various respects different from a hydroelectric plant, made for quite another purpose.  And one might even say that a chalice has a "higher" purpose than a hydroelectric plant (well, someone might).  None of this should be surprising.  I wonder whether this is, essentially, all that Heidegger is really doing in this essay.

The use of Aristotle's four kinds of causes is interesting.  Their use is not explained, however.  It appears that Heidegger merely assumes that these are to define our consideration of the question "what is technology?"  I'm not so sure.  I think it's clear, though, that his use of them serves to guide (or slant as would be said now) the analysis.  So, too, with his insistence on defining "technology" and explaining it by reference to the origins of the word in ancient Greek.  Why assume that the ancient Greek from which the word may be derived tells us anything regarding how it is used now, or what technology is (what its "essence" is as he insists on putting it)?  Why assume that what the ancient Greeks may have thought on this issue is at all pertinent, let alone determinative?  Heidegger seems even to acknowledge this, or at least to acknowledge that his technique can form the basis of an objection.  But he forges on.

The "monstrous" hydroelectric plant, and apparently modern technology generally, "challenges" nature, it takes from it, according to Heidegger.  The plant "commands" the Rhine.  Modern technology "expedites" unlocks and exposes the energies of nature.  But, he complains, this "expediting" is directed towards another purpose.  Coal, he says, has been "hauled out" and stockpiled.  Being stockpiled, it is "on call."  Heidegger apparently finds this disturbing.  Worse than being stockpiled, apparently, is the fact that it is converted to heat (challenging forth the sun's warmth, he says) and then "ordered" to deliver steam to turn wheels that keep a factory running (they must be some wheels).

He contrasts this with the work of the peasant, sowing the fields.  This doesn't challenge the soil.  The peasant in the sowing of the grain "places the seed in the keeping of the forces of growth and watches over its increase."

I tend to grow a bit suspicious when peasants are referred to this manner, sowing the fields and placing seeds in nature's generous soil, that sort of thing.  I suspect the peasant is becoming the subject of a romantic fantasy.  Regardless, though, I wonder if Heidegger realized that the happy peasant didn't live on whatever happened to have grown each day.  Surely he understood that agricultural produce was regularly stockpiled (like that coal) well before the modern age?  It had to be.  Winter, most annoyingly, continued to arrive each year, and nothing could be grown then--the "forces of growth" took vacations.

Presumably, Heidegger also realized that sources of heat in addition to coal, such as wood and peat, were stockpiled for future use throughout history, waiting to be "ordered" to produce heat to warm people and their food.  One also assumes he was aware of the fact that humans had employed irrigation for thousands of years, "commanding" the waters of rivers to go on unnatural detours.

Heidegger's negative characterizations of modern technology can be applied just as easily to ancient or medieval technology.  So, I think he had a tendency to romanticize the past, and that this negatively effected his view of technology.  Similarly, he has a tendency to attribute concepts we associate with humans to the objects he idealizes.  The chalice is "indebted" to the silver from which it is made, and the silver is "co-responsible" for the chalice.  This is most poetic, but that is all it is.

There isn't necessarily something bad about this essay, but there doesn't seem to be anything good about it, either. It's certainly not what I would call an analysis of technology.  I don't think it is analytic in any sense.  Heidegger clearly feels there's something wrong, or monstrous, with such things as hydroelectric plants that he doesn't feel is wrong with the back-breaking labor of  peasants sowing fields by hand (perhaps a plow could be used; it's not clear).  But it seems to me that he doesn't explain why he feels this way in any intelligent manner.  He characterizes, but provides no justification for his characterizations.