We have looked, briefly, both at what, specifically, is the historical and theoretic method of the natural empirical sciences. as mapped out by Francis Bacon as early as the 16th century, as well as their proper object for knowledge. We will recall that Bacon made a very fundamental and sharp distinction between the knowledge that the scientific method must limit itself to - namely efficient causes (or the observation of natural events and the laws of the material universe). This realm of investigation, Bacon insisted, by its very nature, must remain separate and distinct from what he identified as metaphysical enquiries - those that look at questions of different kinds of causes - particularly final causes, or put more succinctly, questions that ask "why?"
Natural science can only answer questions of "how?" To look to answer questions of "why?, we must, by necessity, look to other methodologies and approaches. Science just won’t work in any sort of quest for anything like what we would call meaning. As a matter of fact, the questions and answers of empirical science not only do not have a claim to provide us with answers of meaning, value, or purpose, but it can be argued that they have virtually no relevance to those very questions that as human beings, we might define as ultimately more fundamental to our actual existence. On these questions, science is basically silent.
We have also looked at the detailed arguments of the writer Aldous Huxley to the effect that science - least we forget - must be viewed as an "artificial" and specialized kind of knowledge within which the larger picture of "reality itself" must be viewed. I, for one, not only find his arguments very persuasive, but reflective, once again, of that basic division of knowledge that Bacon mapped out nearly 400 years earlier. As a matter of fact, it should be pointed out that the premises under which the empirical sciences operate are themselves ultimately based on assumptions, the validity of which cannot be verified using those empirical methods themselves!
In other words, and in short, science is not only different from philosophy in both subject matter and method, it is itself dependent on philosophical principles for its theoretical justification.
But, we have also noted that the history of speculative philosophy, unlike the empirical sciences, has not developed in any impressively or persuasive manner to demonstrate that it is up to the challenge of what we demand from it. Rather than a gradual accumulation and modification of what we might term "general philosophical theory," with observable and measurable progress, instead we find a long history of general theories put forth that are constantly being torn down by succeeding generations of philosophers.
This lack of progress, when compared with the undeniable success of the physical sciences, we have noted, has led to certain philosophers such as Auguste Comte, to argue that philosophy itself is a fruitless and invalid enterprise. And in the early 20th century, the philosophical school of "logical positivism" went so far as to declare the vast majority of philosophical questions and statements to be literally "meaningless."
I don’t think we would find much of a consensus for these radical conclusions in the academic world of philosophy today. But there is absolutely a very strong sense - despite the particular philosophical school that one adheres to - that there is something very fundamentally different between what we might call scientific knowledge and philosophical knowledge. The question is, how do we view that distinction?
Is philosophical knowledge actually something attainable, at least in any sort of absolute sense? Or is philosophy something, somehow, different from knowledge - at least in the sense that we generally understand that term?
I believe that there exist a number of very helpful possible ways to look at this subject from a larger and broader perspective. And I believe that there are certain disciplines that we can use that come from places other than the traditional philosophic traditions that we have inherited - though I would not suggest for a moment that these traditions be completely (or even partially) dispensed with. I am suggesting, rather, that we should perhaps use some tools from other areas of study and other subject matter that could quite possibly provide us with some fresh perspectives on the way we look at philosophy itself!
One way in which we can look at philosophical questions is through the aesthetic realm. Is philosophy, in some way, more akin to the productions of the creative arts than it is of the physical sciences? To a large degree, this may truly be the case. I do not mean here to suggest that the fact that some great philosophers, such as Plato for example, have been great artists, that we should conflate the two realms, for there really is a distinction. Yet purely artistic works are often said to contain some sort of "truth value," and if we really mean this to be the case, it must be said that this form of "truth" is quite different from what we would expect to receive in the natural sciences.
But what exactly, what specifically is the type of "truth" that we expect to receive from fine literature, art and music? It is, indeed, something terribly difficult to articulate. What precisely do we mean when we speak of the "truth" of a book or a painting? What are we talking about when we refer to a brilliant artist’s "insight" into the meaning being expressed by his or her creation? The answer, obviously, is a long way from being clear in our minds, even after nearly 2500 years of reflecting about the nature of the relationship between the nature of "art" and its relation to "truth."
One good starting point might be to go back to Aristotle’s keen observation that poetry is of a "higher order of truth" than history, simply because that while history was limited to "what happened," poetry could include "everything that could possibly happen." History spoke of the specific, of the who said and did what when and how. Poetry, however, speaks of the general. In the historical realm, we speak about this or that "man." In poetry, however, we speak of "mankind" itself.
This distinction, of the relation of the specific to the general, is interesting, but does it really illuminate an actual distinction? For example, in the physical sciences, we are not seeking merely explanations of specific phenomena - we are indeed, ultimately looking for the higher, general laws or "truths" by which we can understand all of the specific phenomena we can ever encounter of this type. So we cannot truly say that science deals with the particular, while art deals with the general. This is much too broad a generalization.
I think perhaps what Aristotle’s distinction does perhaps point to is what we might refer to a difference in "mode" when considering the different methodologies of science and art. For there is not only a difference between their respective subject matters, but also in their fundamental approaches and assumptions, are there not? And if we can in some measure identify what those differences are, might we not be able to say whether the subject matter and methodology of philosophy should be seen as closer to the realm of one of these activities over the other one?
Returning to the ancient Greeks - Plato, this time - when we speak about art we are talking about mimesis - that is, the careful reproduction or representation of something that we find in the actual world. Regardless of how disdainful Plato was of this mimesis - he regarded it as merely a copy of a copy - there have been many great minds that have embraced this concept of mimesis as a vast and limitless gateway to a deeper and fuller understanding of existence, as expressed in its widest sense. And in a sense, it seems that philosophy seeks to do that as well.
Let’s take one quick example of comparison. Science, at its highest level, seeks to understand and explain the universe. Philosophy, on the other hand, at its upper reach, seeks nothing less than to understand and explain being itself. Now, even if one is of the opinion that the physical universe is the sum total of all being that there is (and I don’t see possibly how such an assertion could ever be verified), one must admit that at least on the conceptual level, philosophy is concerned with a much broader realm of subject matter than science. Whatever "the physical universe" is ultimately like, one must finally concede that its essence - on a conceptual level - requires it to be. That is the universe is one smaller component or subset of that all-inclusive term we recognize as being. In short, the universe is a part of being. On the other hand, it does not stand to reason that the meaning of being should, or even may, be exhausted by the term universe. And that is precisely because we can imagine some realm of being that exists beyond the physical universe.
Now, here is the peculiar thing. Even though we can assert all of the above to be undeniably true, logically speaking, can we demonstrate, even in theory, that as a statement or a proposition it is true as fact?
Well, no, we can’t. And I suspect that the very fundamental reason for that is that when we use the word fact, we have automatically (even if surreptitiously) reduced the nature of what we were discussing into a physical category, and therefore one that can (and should) be dealt with by the methods of physical science. But does that not also indiscriminately rob them, to a very large degree, of what we meant by those terms in the first place?
I think absolutely it does!
Let me just point out at this point that I am, myself, not a professional, trained philosopher. I’m an amateur, and I’m sure there are many highly advanced theories in academia that I probably couldn’t even follow! However, after many years of studying and reading about philosophy and philosophical questions, I have (perhaps displaying a great deal of arrogant assumption), come to a few tentative conclusions about their nature, and I’d like to suggest a few "different" ways of looking at them.
First of all, it’s obvious that the statements and questions about philosophy are different, both in subject and mode from statements and questions about both physical science and what we might call "ordinary, everyday knowledge." Now, of course, as indicated before, this has been recognized for quite a long time - at least going back to Bacon. And the great German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) made the distinction even more explicit.
Without getting too far into Kant’s theories for the time being, let me take the risk of oversimplifying his thought terribly, just in order to get some basic ideas across here. Kant pointed out that we only know things about the external world through the information derived from our senses - and then that sense-information was "delivered" to our minds. But, Kant emphasized, the mind is not a blank slate - indeed it is organized in such a way that we process the information we receive in a certain pre-determined way. Kant called these pre-determined patterns, "a priori categories" of thought.
"A priori" simply means that they exist before we learn anything from the outside world. And "categories" signifies the specific ways that we process the information we receive from our senses. Two big examples of these "categories" are time and space. Now, according to Kant, we do not actually observe time and space as such. On the contrary, our minds are already constructed in such a manner that we perceive everything that we encounter in terms of time and space which are already there in our minds. We don’t get information from the "outside world" that isn’t already shaped as appearing in time and space.
So do time and space really exist, outside of our minds? According to Kant, such a thing is literally impossible to know. And why is that? Well, quite obviously, because we can’t step outside of our minds to find out!
So we’re basically stuck.
Kant went on and divided "reality" into two spheres, or realms of being. The first, what he called "the phenomenal world" is what we perceive with our senses. That world we can only know about through the activity of our minds, and we just kind of have to trust that what we’re getting is accurate. And it is in this "phenomenal world" that all of the questions that we have about the so-called "physical world" - that is the realm of physical science - operate. We can ask questions about what happens, and we can use our senses to verify or falsify these questions. And it works!
The other side of reality is what Kant called "the noumenal world." What was that? Well, "the noumenal world" was everything that went on outside of our minds and senses. And we don’t have access to that world. Why? Because we can’t get outside of our mind and senses to see what is there. We would have to be omniscient, God-like creatures to be able to do that.
So "real reality" - what Kant called the thing in itself - is forever shut off from us. We can only know things as they appear to our mind and senses in the "phenomenal world." We can’t get outside to see things as they really are.
Well, this is all we need for regular human day-to-day life, isn’t it? And likewise, it’s all that we need for the world of physical science.
But what about metaphysics? What about all those big, ultimate questions that we really want to know - the ones philosophers had been trying to figure out since the ancient Greeks?
Well, we just couldn’t know that stuff. Why? Because all of those questions belong to . . . "the noumenal world!"
"Is there a God?" Well, that’s something we’d all like to know, isn’t it? But unfortunately, that’s one of the things we can’t find out. Why? Because "God" is not something that appears in "the phenomenal world." By its very definition, "God" is something that is outside of physical reality (at least in the normal, orthodox sense of the word). God is transcendent. God - if He exists - is outside the realm of our senses, and therefore cannot be determined by our minds whether it is "real" or not. It’s not something we can verify like a rock, a flower, an animal, or a planet. We can’t see God. We can only think about God. God is purely conceptual. And just because we can think about something doesn’t prove it’s "real." That’s something that is, by its very nature, belonging to "the noumenal world." And we can’t get there. Period. End of story.
But this problem doesn’t just apply to "God" and other things that we think of as "supernatural." We run into the same problems any time we deal with any purely conceptual reality. And that’s bad news for metaphysics.
Let’s go back to the distinction we made earlier between "the universe" and "being." Now, when we talk about "the universe," we mean the "physical universe" - that is, everything that we can see (or know about by extension of our senses through technology). That’s all we can "know" is there. But "being itself," as we pointed out, is a larger concept than "the universe." Why is that? Because "being itself" could be much more than the "physical universe." Right?
But we can observe the "physical universe." We can’t observe "being itself." We can only think about it. It is an abstract concept. And since it is conceptual instead of physical, it does not exist in "the phenomenal world." We can’t look at "being itself" to see if it’s really there or not. If "being itself" exists, it exists in "the noumenal world." And we don’t have access to that, do we?
So what can we say about "being itself?" Well, according to Kant . . . nothing, really.
Now, some philosophers have been critical of Kant. They say something to the effect that, "You can’t talk about ‘being itself’ being ‘real’ or not. It’s not a thing at all - it’s just a concept!"
Well, Kant (or someone else) might answer: You may be right. But it would be kind of a strange thing if there was really no such thing as "being," wouldn’t it? What would that even mean?
According to Kant, "being itself" may be one of those a priori categories of thought of his. As far as "real being itself," there’s no way we can know anything about it. It’s in "the noumenal world," and we’re locked out of there, buddy.
So what happens to philosophy, then? I mean, if philosophical questions and statements are all, by definition, belonging to "the noumenal world," then can we really know anything about philosophy at all?
Well, not every philosopher has agreed with Kant. Take Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, for instance. Hegel (1770-1831) took a look at Kant and said, basically, "Sure you can know what’s in the noumenal world." How? Well, Hegel figured, if "ideas" are the same thing as "reality," then you can figure out the entire existence of everything - no matter how abstract - right in your mind itself. (This really starts getting complicated and confusing here.)
Now, a lot of people went along with Hegel for awhile, but then there was a big backlash. And no wonder. It’s all so confusing. It’s no wonder that thinkers like Auguste Comte and the logical positivists just wanted to get rid of traditional philosophy altogether. It all seems like a bunch of insane nonsense, and you can’t prove any of it.
Well, personally, I think that’s going a bit too far. Just because Hegel went overboard doesn’t mean he sunk the whole ship.
I’d like to propose a project. I’ll admit, it’s a little ambitious, but what the hell. What I would like to do is to undergo a general review of the history of Western philosophy and to examine its multifarious questions, proposals and theses with a reappraising and critical eye to see whether any, and how much, has actually been bequeathed to us that we can still use or find profitable, using new and different types of criteria for interpretation.
Now I realize this is not a project that’s going to thrill that many people, much less one that stands to make a great deal of a headway in pointing toward future paths of study in the subject. And it may seem a rather large, unwieldily and daunting task. Well, as for its size, I don’t necessarily have to be completely comprehensive, but even on a truncated level, I do recognize it will be rather large. But consider this: if one were to study the history of philosophy for a Bachelor’s Degree, that would take, on average, four years. I certainly don’t mind investing four years’ time in such a project, especially given my fascination with the subject.
Nor do I plan to restrict myself to examining Western philosophy. While I cannot pretend I can go as nearly as deep - that might take a lifetime of study - as I am currently prepared to do in the traditions of the West, I think it only appropriate and necessary to take at least a more-than-cursory look at the major philosophic traditions of India and the Far East, at the very least, in order to see what insights and perspectives they share, and where they do at this point in my life.
Naturally, I will progress further if I actually do manage to attract any attention and - dare I hope, response! - on this voyage of inquiry. I realize that is probably asking for too much, but we’ll see if anybody wants to jump on board at any point with any provocative or challenging insights of their own. (I realize that this is not many people’s "cup of tea," or perhaps I may just be perceived as - more or less correctly - as an "arrogant idiot" for even making the attempt, but I am sincerely interested in where I’ll eventually end up. So I’m pretty much "packed and ready to go." If anyone actually wants to come along - full or part way - I will have to consider that a bonus.)
Before I set out, however, I want to lay out what I have come so far to consider three unique and probable ways of looking at philosophy that I think - at this time - might be the most beneficial ways of looking at them, given all I have said about the problems of philosophy in general. So I start out on this journey, then, not as a fresh and unbiased discoverer of new worlds, but rather a re-visitor to previously trodden lands in the hopes of finding something new and valuable.
And yes, I’m aware that it may be a total waste of time, that I might not actually get anywhere, but, ultimately . . . what the hell? I still like traveling.
All right, before we (meaning probably "I") begin, I’d like to lay out three possible ways to profitably view philosophical questions and statements for the sake of future study and reflection. And so that I don’t keep anybody restive in a great state of suspense, I’ll just go ahead and state them now:
1. Philosophical statements are neither true nor false - they are a way of looking at things.
2. Philosophical statements can neither be said to be ultimately true or false - they can only be said to be more or less probable.
3. Philosophical statements are essentially metaphors for things we cannot ultimately know.
These three proposals are not meant to be carved in stone, nor should they be. For who knows, in the course of my inquiries, where, ultimately I might be led in my thinking. So these are basically my starting points. Notice that each of these three different proposals are different, but at the same time they are also related.
Now, anybody who knows me and is aware of my fascination with the works of the great theorist of comparative mythology will recognize right away the obvious relationship with proposal No. 3. For just as mythologies may reflect, in a culturally conditioned manner, insights and suppositions that cannot help but be expressed in a metaphorical sense - namely because they ultimately represent mysteries, I have contemplated the matter and have concluded that formal statements of philosophy may very well be constructed of very similar metaphorical material, but stated in a more cogent and coherent manner for purposes of more direct and distinct elucidation, as well as to be subjected to the rules of formal logic for scrutinization.
If I am at least to some degree correct in my supposition of my third postulate, this would, I would think, help clear up to a large degree the question why philosophy has not managed to accumulatively advance in the manner of the natural sciences. For if philosophical statements are ultimately metaphors for a more transcendent reality that we cannot quite get ahold of (i.e., know, in any real sense), it would indeed be surprising if any sort of unquestioned historical progress should have ever been made.
And I also think that, when looking at the first two propositions, it can be easily seen why I have come to my third and ultimate position. I am aware that in keeping with any serious scholastic method, I should here provide a detailed analysis of the relationships between these three statements, and I may at some time in the future attempt to provide one. However, if one cannot truly see the formal (or implied) relationships between them, I am not sure that any further explication on my part will do much to remedy the case.
Finally, however, I think that the real and true full meanings (and relationships) of all three of my provisional statements regarding philosophy can best be apprehended in actual examination of historical philosophical material. Besides, I am becoming weary of theorizing about theorizing and would prefer to move forward - finally - to some actual philosophical analysis and begin dealing with some real questions.
This is my third in a series of expository preludes that I felt I had to make before really undertaking this fascinating and compelling voyage into the highest realms of human questioning. It is a long trip, and preparations were required. Whether the preambles that I have laid forth in these pages serve as an adequate preparation or not ultimately remains to be seen. There is no question that I shall be returning, periodically, to assess, evaluate, and perhaps even shift course. But I cannot tarry any longer. I hear my ship calling me, and it is time for me to depart.
My first stop will be most pleasant, however, as it is located at the far eastern edge of the beautiful Mediterranean. If any wish to join me, please feel free to travel with me to the shores of 6th century BCE Anatolia and the comfortable climes of that lovely Ionian outpost known to both literary and philosophical travelers everywhere - to the free city-state of the pre-Persian hothouse of trade known as Miletus. There are some few people there with very big ideas indeed.
See you there!
No comments:
Post a Comment