Dismissal and Domestication: Typical Responses to Wittgenstein and Austin

In the last two posts, I have been discussing some of my philosophical influences, focusing predominantly on their role within and distinction from the majority of philosophers working within the mainstream of contemporary analytic philosophy.

In the first of these posts, I outlined a (non-exhaustive) group of philosophers who were or are engaging in philosophy of a type that rejects many of the assumptions common to most of contemporary Anglo-American philosophy. In the second, I tried to explain what I meant by saying that the views espoused by these philosophers have not been integrated into contemporary philosophy of mind, language, epistemology, and metaphysics, by focusing in particular on one philosopher: Ludwig Wittgenstein.

In order to finish off this series of related posts, I want to try to explain how it is that many of the philosophers in the original list I mentioned are fighting against this rejection and (more or less) self-consciously aiming to bring a kind of neo-Wittgensteinian ordinary language philosophy back into the fold of mainstream analytic philosophy. Or, more precisely, I want to explain how the more contemporary of the philosophers I mentioned—Charles Travis, James Conant, Avner Baz, John McDowell, and Stanley Cavell—are all working to bring to bear on contemporary philosophy lessons learnt from Wittgenstein or Austin (or, in some cases, both).

However, in order to appreciate precisely how these contemporary philosophers are overcoming the barriers to integration that have plagued Austin and Wittgenstein, it is obviously necessary to understand what these barriers are. As such, this post will be devoted to sketching a few of the ways in which these philosophers are excluded from contemporary debates in the four areas mentioned above.

The Assumption of Outdatedness

Undoubtedly the most common way that Wittgenstein or Austin are excluded from contemporary debates is simply by ignoring them altogether. It is usually assumed that they are examples of an outdated and outmoded style of philosophy and hence that their views are at best of historical significance. In When Words Are Called For, Avner Baz explains this assumption as follows:

Within the mainstream of analytic philosophy, it is now widely held that [ordinary language philosophy] has somehow been refuted or otherwise seriously discredited, and that it may therefore philosophically legitimately and safely be ignored.

Hence, the assumption that Wittgenstein and Austin are proponents of an obsolete style of philosophising is not simply arbitrary or malicious, but is taken, either explicitly or implicitly, to be philosophically well-grounded.

The philosophical reasons behind this assumption are multifaceted, and I wouldn’t even presume to be able to give a full and adequate account of them. However, I think there are a few key points that have emerged through the way that the philosophers I mentioned have tried to challenge this assumption of the philosophical irrelevance of Wittgenstein and Austin, but I’ll have to come back to this point in the next post.

If you don’t understand the connection between these two objects, ordinary language philosophy is probably not for you.

Segregation

Often, work on the philosophers in question is acknowledged, but their influence is restricted to areas of philosophy that don’t interact in any particularly significant way with mainstream philosophy of mind, language, epistemology, or metaphysics. In this way, work continues on these philosophers in proportion to their stature and renown without this work having any notable impact on the philosophical sub-disciplines that it most naturally relates to.

In the case of Wittgenstein, the difficulty of seeing how his views fit into mainstream philosophy, coupled with his historical prominence in the history of 20th century analytic philosophy, has led to a kind of cottage industry devoted to the interpretation and development of his work. “Working on Wittgenstein” is, in a crucial sense, typically not taken to be the same as working on the philosophy of mind, language, epistemology, or metaphysics, even if as a matter of fact those topics are exactly what is being discussed.

Austin with an *i*, not Austen with an *e*.

The case of Austin is more complicated, in part due to the fact that it’s much easier to separate the ‘results’ of Austin’s work on language from the philosophical aspirations he had for his work and the meta-philosophical assumptions that underpinned his writing. However, a similar effect can be observed concerning the assumption that what’s worthwhile in Austin’s work has been extracted and applied in the realm of ‘pragmatics’ (or perhaps linguistics more widely) and needn’t particularly concern philosophers working in the disciplines I mentioned above.

This reaction is distinct from the first not only for the degree of acknowledgement that it gives to these philosophers, but also for the emphasis on the content of the work rather than the style. The assumption of irrelevance here rests more on the belief that what these philosophers are studying has no bearing on contemporary debates in the areas mentioned, rather than the assumption Baz articulated in the previous section that the way these philosophers try to answer to questions has been discredited.

Domestication

The final reaction to these philosophers does recognise their direct relevance to contemporary philosophy, but in the attempt to integrate them and make them relevant to contemporary discussions domesticates the conclusions and methods of these philosophers in the process.

This sort of domestication is at the same time the best and worst way to treat these philosophers. On the one hand, it is usually a sincere and honest attempt to fit them into contemporary debates, arising out of a genuine desire to engage with this challenging alternate style of philosophising. On the other hand, the attempt itself typically succeeds in fitting these views into the debates in question only by, and in proportion to the degree to which, the views are tamed and their challenge neutered.

A prime example of an expression of this sort of worry comes from McDowell, who criticises Brandom for his apparent misunderstanding of the quietist aspects of Wittgenstein’s philosophy:

In Brandom’s reading, “quietism” is a pretext for not doing constructive work that Wittgenstein reveals as obligatory for others not constrained by his scruples. Though Brandom calls it “principled”, “quietism” so understood looks like an excuse for laziness. I think this is a paradigm of how not to read Wittgenstein.

McDowell’s qualm here is that Brandom’s attempt to integrate Wittgenstein into a long tradition of theorising about normativity—stemming back from Brandom, through Sellars and Frege, all the way to Hegel and Kant—results in the neutering of Wittgenstein’s anti-theoretical quietism, which McDowell takes to be a central and principled aspect of Wittgenstein’s philosophy. Thus the accusation is that Brandom manages to integrate Wittgenstein into this tradition of thought only by domesticating the latter’s meta-philosophical assumptions, turning them into mere ‘scruples’.

Quietism has had a long and dignified history in film as well as philosophy.

Furthermore, it  is commonly assumed that this sort of domestication is not merely an unfortunate byproduct of modernising Wittgenstein, but positively required if his philosophy is to be presented in a way amenable to a contemporary philosophical audience (for example, Kripke’s interpretative comments in the introduction to Wittgenstein on Rules and Private Language seem to suggest that he shares this view).

Anyone who has read Wittgenstein cannot fail to be sympathetic to this sort of approach, given the obscurity with which Wittgenstein typically presents his points and the resistance one naturally faces trying to integrate his philosophy into contemporary debates (not least of all from defenders of Wittgenstein). However, what separates the philosophers I mentioned earlier is that they often (though by no means always) manage to show the relevance of Wittgenstein and Austin to contemporary philosophy without doing violence to the core meta-philosophical assumptions that underlie the two philosophers’ writings, either unintentionally or deliberately.

Summary

It is worth noting that all of the common reasons for the dismissal of Austin and Wittgenstein given above are philosophically grounded in one way or another. It is easy to slip into a sort of paranoiac mindset when defending a minority position and to interpret your opponents uncharitably as a result. I hope that by indicating the role that genuine philosophical disagreements play in underpinning these responses I have avoided this sort of attitude, even if I haven’t had the space to articulate the disagreements themselves.

Thus, part of the challenge that contemporary neo-Wittgensteinian and/or ‘ordinary language’ philosophers face, one that I hope to illustrate that they have met, is to successfully articulate and challenge the philosophical assumptions that underlie the chilly reception felt by Wittgenstein and Austin. This is simply to recognise that the lack of integration is not usually a result of ignorance or neglect, but is rather an expression of genuine disagreement.

Specifically, based on the divisions above, there are at least three distinct (though, in practice, no doubt, interdependent) challenges that philosophers hoping to integrate Wittgenstein and Austin face:

  1. Unearthing and challenging the reasons for the belief that the style of philosophising exemplified by Wittgenstein and Austin has been discredited or refuted in some way.
  2. Showing the relevance of the issues dealt with by these philosophers to contemporary debates in the philosophy of mind, language, epistemology, and/or metaphysics.
  3. Doing (1.) and (2.) in such a way that the meta-philosophical assumptions underpinning the views of these two philosophers are not domesticated in any way.

Whilst it’s obviously not possible to show in a blog post that the philosophers I mentioned have succeeded in doing the above, in the next post I hope to at least indicate how each of them have gone about tackling this daunting task. Until then!

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Wittgenstein’s Impact on Contemporary Philosophy

In my last post I began to talk about some of my philosophical influences, and what I thought they had in common that distinguished them from other philosophers. Given that most posts on this blog about philosophy are going to explain what the views of these philosophers are and why I believe they have something important to contribute to contemporary philosophical debates, I’m going to focus in this post on characterising the distinctive sort of neglect that I think many of these philosophers have received in mainstream philosophy, focusing for now on Wittgenstein alone.

What inspired me to take this route is the following quotation from an article by Ray Monk (author of the engrossing Wittgenstein biography The Duty of Genius) regarding the influence of Wittgenstein on contemporary thought:

Ludwig Wittgenstein is regarded by many, including myself, as the greatest philosopher of this century… And yet in a sense Wittgenstein’s thought has made very little impression on the intellectual life of this century. As he himself realised, his style of thinking is at odds with the style that dominates our present era. His work is opposed, as he once put it, to “the spirit which informs the vast stream of European and American civilisation in which all of us stand.” Nearly 50 years after his death, we can see, more clearly than ever, that the feeling that he was swimming against the tide was justified.

In one way or another, this image of swimming against the tide applies to many philosophers that I mentioned in my last post. As Monk indicates with respect to Wittgenstein, fame has little to nothing to do with the actual impact that these philosophers have (or, more appropriately, haven’t) had on contemporary philosophy.

Ludwig Wittgenstein, whose principal contribution to philosophy was a magnificent tuft of hair.

I think it’s worth considering exactly what it means to say that a philosopher can gain significant renown and have as much influence as someone like Wittgenstein—a household name in 20th century philosophy if ever there was one—without making a significant impression on the discipline within which they work.

John Etchemendy opens his book The Concept of Logical Consequence with a description of Tarski’s impact on contemporary philosophy of logic that I think neatly encapsulates the kind of influence that typically comes hand-in-hand with renown within a discipline:

The highest compliment that can be paid to the author of a piece of conceptual analysis comes not when his suggested definition survives whatever criticism may be leveled against it, or when the analysis is acclaimed unassailable. The highest compliment comes when… the definition is treated as common knowledge. Tarski’s account of the concepts of logical truth and logical consequence has earned him this compliment.

Though Etchemendy here speaks particularly about conceptual analysis, there’s a point that can be made here about lesser degrees of compliment that philosophers often receive more generally. Philosophers that make a lasting impact on a discipline are not necessarily those who are deemed to have succeeded in putting forth a viewpoint deemed incontestable (in fact, I’m not sure there is such a thing in philosophy), but rather those whose contribution becomes an essential and indispensable feature of the debate or region of philosophy itself.

The nature of this contribution can take any number of forms other than conceptual analysis. It can sometimes take the form of contributing a conceptual distinction thereafter deemed essential to a (sub-)discipline, as with Frege’s distinction between sense and reference. It can often take the form of contributing a distinctive stance or viewpoint to a debate that then goes on to have a life of its own outside the writings of that author, as with Bentham’s promotion of utilitarianism. It can at other times take the form of shaping or forming the nature of a debate or region itself, as with Davidson’s program for a Tarskian semantics. It can sometimes instead take the form of an interpretation of the ideas of a key figure that becomes so commonplace that the line between the interpretation and the original position become blurred for all but the specialist in that area, as is arguably the case with Dummett’s Frege. And on rare occasions, it takes the form of seemingly rejuvenating and reconceptualising an entire (sub-)discipline itself, as could not unreasonably be said of Chomsky’s contribution to linguistics.

The point is that the contributions these philosophers have made are, in one way or another, essential to the contemporary state of these sub-disciplines. What makes their contribution essential in this way is usually the fact that their ideas have been integrated or absorbed into the sub-discipline, in one of the above ways, or perhaps some other way, to such an extent that one cannot understand the current state of these areas of though without understanding their contribution to them first.

One way to understand Monk’s statement about Wittgenstein is that whilst he is undoubtedly well-known, he has manifestly not had this sort of influence on contemporary philosophy (at least the later Wittgenstein; for its influence on logical positivism and its introduction of truth tables into the philosophical tool-box alone, the Tracatus probably did have the impact discussed above). Whilst it’s very likely that you will have a chance to take a dedicated course on Wittgenstein at some point during an undergraduate degree in philosophy, it’s far less likely that Wittgenstein would be included on the syllabus for a standard introductory course on the philosophy of mind, the philosophy of language, or epistemology, despite the fact that the later Wittgenstein had a lot to say on these topics.

Furthermore, whilst this is a fairly accurate representation of many UK universities, I get the impression that the likelihood of coming across Wittgenstein in a US course on these topics is even slimmer (comments from readers from across the pond would be appreciated on this point). The fact is that the way these disciplines have progressed, especially in the States, is such that they have not incorporated Wittgenstein’s ideas in the same way that the ideas of other philosophers have been. To put it bluntly, you simply don’t need to understand Wittgenstein to get on in the philosophy of mind, language, epistemology, or metaphysics, whereas you’d have a hard time getting along in these areas without having a good grasp of, say, Kripke, Davidson, Gettier, and Lewis.

The fame that Wittgenstein has achieved is more comparable to that of a pre-Frege historical figure than it is to those philosophers considered an indispensable part of the canon of 20th-century analytic philosophy. Whilst it would be extremely odd to attain tenure in one of these fields without at least having a working knowledge of most members in a typical philosophical canon (think pub-conversation-level knowledge of Russell’s History of Western Philosophy), it wouldn’t be odd to attain tenure without ever having mentioned them in your publications and your contributions to contemporary research, and I think the same is true of Wittgenstein. (I think this is also reflected in the fact that graduate courses that split their modules into ‘historical’ and ‘topical’—or ‘historical’, ‘theoretical’, and ‘practical’—typically place Wittgenstein in the ‘historical’ category.)

I think that the same holds, to varying extents, of all the philosophers that I mentioned last time, though it rings especially true of Austin, given his historical importance (speech act theory itself notwithstanding, which has achieved integration into linguistics and the philosophy of language). The fact is that the views these philosophers hold on topics in the philosophy of mind, the philosophy of language, epistemology, and metaphysics are still for the most part quite marginal, even when at first glance their stature would seem to indicate otherwise.

For someone sympathetic to the views expressed by these philosophers, this lack of integration into the mainstream of these sub-disciplines is disappointing. The reason seems to be that whilst these philosophers have something interesting to say, the meta-philosophical views that they hold stand at odds with those shared by the majority of mainstream analytic philosophers, which makes engagement with their position difficult.

Whilst the main source of the cold reception that these philosophers have had in more orthodox circles is undoubtedly philosophical, I think that there are interesting quasi-sociological reasons, too, and since these are relevant to my view of my own eventual position in the wonderful world of academic philosophy, in the next post (and, I think, the last on this topic) I’ll try to explain how it is that a philosopher with the stature of Wittgenstein or Austin (at least in his heyday) can end up having a relatively marginal contemporary role within the sub-disciplines they worked within.

Neo-Wittgensteinian Ordinary Language Philosophy

After a couple of months of grad school application hell, I’ve been wanting to get back to regular blogging, and under the influence of a couple of friends who are more productive than I am, I’ve decided to ease myself back into the blagosphere with a quasi-personal post or two about what I hope to achieve in philosophy and the place that I see for myself in the discipline that I love. In particular, I want to get to that point by first discussing a few philosophers that have influenced me greatly, and what I see as the reasons behind the somewhat chilly reception they’ve received in contemporary mainstream analytic philosophy.

Given that one of the reasons I’ve not posted for a while is that I have a tendency to write excessively long posts, I’m going to try to limit myself to shorter posts in order to encourage posting more frequently. As such, I want to begin today simply by explaining who it is that I’ve been most influenced by, and what I see as the commonalities and significance of their ideas.

Let’s begin with a few names, in no particular order: Ludwig Wittgenstein, Charles Travis, James Conant, J.L. Austin, Avner Baz, John McDowell, Stanley Cavell.

Whilst these philosophers write on a number of disparate, seemingly unrelated topics—semantics, Kierkegaard, epistemology,  literature, aesthetics, psychology, Kant, and ancient philosophy, just to name a few—they all share one common characteristic: they all deviate, in one way or another, from the dominant methodological paradigm operative in much contemporary analytic philosophy.

Some caveats are already required before even this simple and vague statement can be said to be true. In particular, I don’t think there is an agreed-upon, universally-accepted ‘paradigm’ that governs mainstream philosophical practice. That being said, to borrow a Wittgensteinian term of art, there is enough of a family resemblance between most philosophers working within the mainstream for the contrast with these other philosophers to be meaningful.

Given that I don’t want to define this mainstream quasi-paradigm using any positive characteristics, and to indicate the wide range of approaches that fall within this broad category, it seems best to simply list, in a similar fashion, those philosophers I take to fall within this framework in some sense or another, and hope that some sense of their difference from the philosophers above will be evident to those familiar with contemporary philosophy: Saul Kripke, Tim Williamson, Tyler Burge, Donald Davidson, John Searle, David Lewis, Ned Block, Jerry Fodor, Ernest Sosa, Jaegwon Kim.

Whilst I don’t think there are any hard-and-fast rules to follow to distinguish the two groups, nor any points on which the members of each group would all agree, I do think there are at least points on which every member of the two groups would disagree with each other (I’m not sure if natural language quantification is up to the challenge of expressing what I just tried to say, but I trust you get the point!), specifically regarding their understanding of the nature of philosophical problems, and the means by which they go about to solve them.

In particular, all of the philosophers in the first list fall under a rubric we could, without too much violence (and with the notable exception of McDowell, who I’ll deal with elsewhere), call “ordinary language philosophy”. To be less vague, all the philosophers named share, in one sense or another, the conviction that any investigation of phenomena interesting to philosophers—art, perception, reality, meaning—must proceed first and foremost through a careful investigation of the meanings of the terms in question, paying particular attention to the use that we put these words to.

This outline requires much more detail than I’ve currently given it, but in the spirit of keeping these posts short, sharp, and to the point, I’m going to finish up here and leave this exposition to future posts. However, I’d like to close with a few quotations from some of the philosophers above that, for me, encapsulate what it is that distinguishes them from mainstream contemporary analytic philosophy, and indicates the reason why I think it’s crucial to
pay attention to these voices. Enjoy!

If I am right about the character of the philosophical anxieties I aim to deal with, there is no room for doubt that engaging  in “constructive philosophy”… is not the way to approach them. As I have put it, we need to exorcize the questions rather than set about answering them. Of course that takes hard work: if you like, constructive philosophy in another sense.

—John McDowell, Mind and World

“Ordinary language philosophy”… seeks to alleviate philosophical entanglements and obscurities by means of consideration of the ordinary and normal uses of philosophers’ words, and the worldly conditions that make those uses  possible and give them their specific significance.

—Avner Baz, When Worlds Are Called For

When philosophers use a word—”knowledge”, “being”, “object”, “I”, “proposition”, “name”—and try to grasp the essence of the thing, one must always ask oneself: is the word ever actually used in this way in the language which is its original home?— What we do is to bring words back from their metaphysical to their everyday use.

—Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations §116

Our most profound confusions of soul show themselves in—and can be revealed to us through an attention to—our confusions concerning what we mean (and, in particular, what we fail to mean) by our words.

—James Conant, “Elucidation and Nonsense in Frege and Early Wittgenstein”

Attention to the details of cases as they arise may not provide a quick path to an all-embracing system; but at least it promises genuine instead of spurious clarity.

—Stanley Cavell, “Must We Mean What We Say?”

[NB: For those wondering, I gave this post an incredibly pretentious title because: a) I like pretentious titles, b) it gives me an excuse to
encourage you to go read a brilliant piece of epistemology which also has the virtue of having a wonderfully pretentious title: Duncan Pritchard’s article “McDowellian Neo-Mooreanism“, c) I’m shamelessly trying to snag some Google search results for ordinary language philosophy and Wittgenstein.]

[[EDIT: for some reason, the formatting of this post went totally haywire, and I’ve only just realised this and managed to address it. Apologies if you read it whilst the formatting made it nearly unreadable!]]

“Free” Trade and the Erosion of Democratic Accountability, Part 3: Free for Whom?

In my last two posts I covered some of the crucial and most troubling measures that are likely to be in the Trans-Pacific Trade (TPP) agreement, a secretive ‘free’ trade agreement currently in the last rounds of negotiation.Whilst a lot of what has been said already touches on the detrimental effect that the TPP could have on democracy, this final post will focus more generally on how trade agreements and the liberalisation of trade erode democracy.

Democracy?

Given that there can be confusion over exactly what is meant by democracy or democratic accountability, I’m going to take a moment to give a quick explanation of what I mean. I take it that the point of democratic forms of government—whether representative or direct—is to give the citizens of a state the ability to take control over the political and economic forces that dominate their lives. If the people of a country, for example, are to be subject to a law, then they should be able to have a say, however indirectly, in whether this law gets implemented and if so, how.

It is common to conflate democracy itself with democratic forms of government, but it’s crucial for my purposes that we don’t make this mistake. I take it to be obvious that a ‘democratic’ government is neither necessary nor sufficient for democracy in the sense above.

It is not necessary because even if there was no government, as in some left libertarian or anarchist forms of political organisation, there could still be democratic control over the economic and political forces and institutions that are present. Such a form of political organisation would enshrine the principles of democracy in the above sense, without having a single ‘democratic’ governmental body accountable to the people. In fact, even within societies with a ‘democratic’ government, this sort of democratic control is exerted by the people on a smaller scale. For example, if you are fortunate enough to work in a sector that still has some shadow of a functioning trade union system left then this is but another means for you to exert some control over a major economic force in your life (your employer).

More importantly for present purposes, a ‘democratic’ government is not sufficient for democracy in this sense either. If a society has governmental body that is in principle responsive to the will of its people, but the government has no way to implement measures that embody this will, due to a lack of political or economic power, the overall system of political organisation is manifestly not democratic in any sense but name. I want to suggest that this is precisely the situation that we are slipping in to as a result of globalisation, ‘free’ trade measures and the liberalisation of trade.

The Basic Problem

Given that I want to comment on the effect that the liberalisation of trade and the implementation of ‘free’ trade agreements (which, as we have seen, often go far beyond merely liberalising trade) has on democratic accountability, it is important to differentiate the basic problem itself from the compounding effects of liberalisation on this problem.

Democracy is supposed to give people a means to exert control over the economic and political forces that contribute so drastically to their welfare and living standards. The job you have, the pay you receive, your working conditions and so on are the most crucial factors in understanding how well your life will go for you, your life expectancy, education and so on. The basic problem is that the average person’s ability to exert control over these factors, and hence to determine how well their life goes, will decrease in proportion to the degree to which economic power has concentrated into a small number of institutions like corporations.

There are two ways that this basic problem manifests itself, one focused on internal control and another focused on external control. The first is simply that corporations are effectively “private tyrannies“, in the following sense: from within a corporation, there is little to no way, if you are outside the concentration of power at the top of the institution, to influence its general practices and operations, or to change your working conditions. If you have a desk job in a major multinational corporation and you have some qualms about the way the company is being run by those in positions of power, your only real option is to quit. This is not to say that corporations couldn’t in principle listen to their workforce, only that they generally don’t unless they are forced to.

Secondly, the extent to which external control over corporations is possible will also be inversely proportional to the extent to which economic power has been concentrated. To cite a familiar example, say that the people of some state want to implement large-scale regulation of corporations. Such suggestions are inevitably dismissed, often not because we shouldn’t regulate corporations or tax them too heavily or close corporate tax loopholes, but that we can’t. If we did, it is argued, the economy would collapse because, as everyone knows, such measures would scare off corporate investment, incite mass capital flight, increase levels of straight-up tax evasion and ultimately the über-capitalists would all run off and start their own utopia, leaving the rest of us to wallow in our socialist hell-hole.

These sorts of arguments illustrate neatly the basic problem as it manifests itself in the form of external control over concentrations of economic power like corporations. There are certain laws that cannot be passed, whether the people want it or not, because, in essence, the rich would punish any government that chooses to pass such a law by de-funding its economy. The greater the share of the economy these corporations are responsible for, the greater this punishment will be and the more power they will have to economically veto laws that conflict with their interests, limiting drastically their democratic accountability.

In a society in which economic power has massively concentrated into the hands of a small number of corporations, there will be two main ways that it will be possible for the majority of people not in a position of power within these institutions to exert an influence on their operation, and ‘free’ trade measures undermine both.

Holding Workers to Ransom

The first way is for the workers themselves to engage in collective bargaining through unionisation in order to achieve some level of control from within these organisations. After all, corporations are only as large as they are thanks to the size of their workforce. Whilst individual ability to exert internal influence will decrease in proportion to the size of the corporation, the potential collective bargaining power should, in theory, increase. Unions offer a way for a large number of workers to effectively stack up the small amounts of power that they have individually and use this to bargain with those individuals near the centre of the concentration of power.

Unfortunately, NAFTA provides a case in point regarding how trade agreements undermine the ability of unions to exert internal control over corporations, removing one major avenue for making corporations democratically accountable. This is because in order for unionisation to be an effective tool for exerting a democratic influence from within, they actually have to have some sort of bargaining power.

The problem is that trade agreements like NAFTA and TPP not only make it easier for domestic countries to export to other countries, but they also make it easier for companies with enough capital to move parts of their business—or the whole business itself—to countries with cheaper labour and production costs, or with less unionisation, and simply export the final product to the market back home. The more mobile the industry, the easier this will be—whilst it will be almost impossible to move, say, mining operations abroad, financial institutions can transfer capital at the click of a mouse.

In other words, ‘free’ trade measures geographically liberate corporations from the country within which their market lies, giving them the opportunity to produce in those countries with the cheapest labour and then export, with little to no financial penalty, to those countries with the biggest markets. One unfortunate result of this freedom is that it makes it easier for corporations to simply threaten unions with plant closure in order to counteract strike threats and other bargaining measures used by unions, undermining the control that the workforce has over these institutions.

Not only is this effect of liberalising trade obvious to anyone willing to reflect on the balance of power within corporations, but in addition corporations themselves have predictably lived up to expectations. Robert E. Scott of the Economic Policy Institute helpfully summarises the research as follows:

Wall Street Journal survey in 1992 reported that one-fourth of almost 500 American corporate executives polled admitted that they were “very likely” or “somewhat likely” to use NAFTA as a bargaining chip to hold down wages (Tonelson 2000, 47). In a unique study of union organizing drives in 1993 though 1995, it was found that more than 50% of all employers made threats to close all or part of their plants during organizing drives (Bronfenbrenner 1997b). This study also found that plant closing threats in National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) union certification elections nearly doubled following the implementation of NAFTA, and that threat rates were substantially higher in mobile industries, where employers can credibly threaten to shut down or move their operations in response to union activity. Bronfenbrenner updated her earlier study with a new survey of threat effects in 1998 and 1999, five years after NAFTA took effect (Bronfenbrenner 2000). In her updated study, Bronfenbrenner found that most employers continue to threaten to close all or part of their operations during organizing drives, despite the fact that, in the last five years, unions have shifted their organizing activity away from industries most impacted by trade deficits and capital flight.

‘Free’ trade agreements like NAFTA thus undermine one of the only means of effecting change from within corporations by decreasing the restrictions and regulations that would otherwise prevent corporations from moving their base of operations. This gives corporations more bargaining chips with which to overpower unions and erodes internal democratic accountability as a result. The result of this erosion of democratic accountability is that wages are driven down, both at home and abroad, and there are huge levels of job displacement.

Holding Governments to Ransom

The second way for people to exert influence on corporations is for the government to exert control on their behalf. Given that governments are also usually large sources of economic and political power, they can often enact laws that regulate the activities of corporations or force them to conform to certain standards. An obvious case would be the implementation of anti-discrimination laws that require corporations (in principle) to enact equal hiring policies.

In the last post, I already covered some of the effects that so-called free trade agreements like NAFTA and TPP have on the ability of citizens to pass laws that benefit them when the interests of the populace clash with the interests of the corporation. Specifically, when corporations are given the power, through international tribunals, to effectively fine the population for infringing on their right to endlessly accumulate capital, the government becomes unable to pass legislation that comes into conflict with these interests.

This is precisely a situation in which the state, even if it is directly accountable to the people, cannot function democratically; that is, in which trade agreements undermine the external democratic accountability of corporations. However, the ability of corporations and other concentrations of economic power to hold the state and its people to ransom does not require investor-state arbitration measures of the sort present in NAFTA and other trade agreements. Even traditional, pre-NAFTA-era ‘free’ trade agreements and efforts to ‘liberalise’ trade erode democratic accountability.

For one, we have already seen that the basic problem is that when a small number of corporations are responsible for a large proportion of a country’s economy, they effectively obtain veto-power over laws that conflict with their interests by threatening to withdraw their investments in that country. However, measures that aim to liberalise trade and capital flow will simply increase the extent to which this tactic can be employed by institutions with a great deal of economic power, for reasons similar to those given in the last section.

Just as individual corporations can use the threat of plant closure to undermine the control that their workers have over working conditions, so too can the corporate sector of the economy as a whole use the threat of capital flight and outsourcing to surpress laws that conflict with their interests. Liberalising trade only makes these threats more credible and the costs to corporations that choose to do so smaller.

Finally, aside from their veto-power over laws that conflict with corporate interests, the ‘free’ trade measures themselves are ways to limit the exercise of democratic control over concentrations of economic power. They effectively forbid the population from exerting any kind of control over the operations of corporations and concentrations of economic power by preventing the state from passing laws that would regulate or control the operations of business, even when these operations are damaging to the people of the country within which they are operating.

‘Free’ trade measures simply add to the already substantial bargaining powers that corporations have and give them extra ways to erode democratic accountability both from within and without, whilst those without substantial economic power (i.e. the majority of the population) have no means to exert an influence over those forces that shape their lives and influence their wellbeing.

In other words, ‘free’ trade agreements are only free for those that already have vast amounts of economic power, for everyone else they are at once an economic fetter and a noose.

“Free” Trade and the Erosion of Democratic Accountability, Part 2: NAFTA 2.0

In my last post, I began to talk about a trade agreement that is currently being discussed by eleven Pacific nations, including the U.S., in secretive, closed-door negotiations, focusing particularly on those parts of the agreement that have nothing to do with trade at all.

This time, I want to focus on aspects of the agreement that are at least ostensibly trade-related, in that they deal with investor rights. In particular, I want to deal with an aspect of the agreement that the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) shares with a free trade agreement whose effects we’ve had nearly twenty years to observe: The North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA).

As I mentioned in the last post, knowing what conditions the TPP actually imposes on signatories is impossible for the general public, since we have no access to the draft agreement, or the negotiating positions of the countries involved. However, from the leaked chapters we have seen, we know that it is very likely that the TPP will include an extension of one of the most controversial chapters of NAFTA.

Investor-State Arbitration

Probably the most notable and ominous articles in the leaked TPP chapter on trade are those that deal with the “expropriation” of “investments” by signatory states. The TPP seems likely to ramp up and extend measures from NAFTA that deal with the arbitration of trade disputes between signatory states and ‘investors’ (read: multinational and/or foreign corporations).

What sounds undoubtedly like another rather dull and academic topic once again has absolutely massive implications for domestic policy and has almost nothing to do with actual trade.

The driving thought behind investor-state arbitration of trade disputes is that corporations should stand on the same level as sovereign states when it comes to arbitrating disputes between the two parties. For example, if, say, a state was to unjustly intervene in the internal political affairs of another country by “training, arming, equipping, financing and supplying” counter-revolutionary forces, the dispute between the two countries would have to be resolved in an international court, subject to and judged by standards of international law.

Investor-state arbitration provisions within the TPP could, if NAFTA is anything to go on, place corporations on the same footing as states by allowing corporations to ‘resolve trade disputes’ (read: sue governments) using international trade dispute tribunals in much the same way that state-state disputes are resolved through international courts.

Protecting the Rights of Multinationals

Aside from the simple absurdity of treating multinational corporations as legal entities on a par with countries (and giving them a higher status than some), these sorts of measures extend the rights and privileges of multinational corporations far beyond those of domestic businesses and national citizens.

If you were to set up a business in a country, you would (obviously) be subject to the laws and regulations of that country and/or the state (county, district etc…) that you were based in. If you wanted to market a product in a way that contravened national law, or set up a plant with working conditions that violated national- or state-level worker protection measures, you could not, and the government would have the right to prevent you from doing so. This much should be obvious.

Now imagine that you are not a national business, but a large multinational corporation that has ‘investments’ in a TPP-governed country. If the TPP includes investor-state arbitration provisions that allow, as with NAFTA, “regulatory takings” cases (read: cases based on damages to profit rather than actual expropriation of resources or nationalisation of foreign business interests), as leaks indicate it likely will, you would not be subject to these same laws. In fact you could sue that state for damages if you felt that these laws constitute ‘indirect’ expropriation of your ‘investment’.

Investor-state arbitration measures give multinational corporations ways to circumvent national law by appealing to international courts to decide whether the laws of a state constitute a violation of the treaty and an unacceptable restriction on the trading rights of these corporations, rather than deciding the issue on the basis of the appropriate national or local (state/county) law. Domestic firms have no such avenue for circumventing relevant laws, meaning that such measures simply increase the power of these multinationals to endlessly accumulate capital and economic power, at the expense of the domestic businesses in those countries within which they ‘invest’.

Political Power and International Trade Dispute Arbitration

Aside from the comparative advantages that such measures confer on multinational corporations over and above national and local businesses and citizens, an even more pressing concern is the political power that this confers on such corporations.

Let’s say that you’re one of the smaller states signing on to the TPP such as, for example, New Zealand. New Zealand is a country with a very modest GDP, and a big focus on environmental protection, which is a potentially disastrous combination for a TPP signatory.

Let’s say that New Zealand wants to pass a law that would ban products that contain substances harmful to its citizens or to the environment, on the basis of new research on the toxicity or harmfulness of that substance. If a multinational corporation deems that this law would harm its business interests in the country, for example if one of its products contains this substance, the New Zealand government might find itself on the end of a billion-dollar lawsuit.

It may fail, it may succeed. Either way, the New Zealand government, whose annual spending on environmental protection is less than the yearly profit of many multinational corporations, would have to foot the bill for the legal fees to fight the battle. If it lost, it would have to pay even more to the corporation in question to compensate them for their losses. In the case of New Zealand this may be more than the small country can afford.

If the TPP contains these sorts of measures, this will constitute a radical shift of political power into the hands of multinational corporations. Effectively the people and government of a signatory country could be held to ransom by multinationals when deciding on policy. Even if a policy has the support of an overwhelming majority of the electorate it may simply be impossible to enshrine this policy in law if there is a large chance that it infringes, even indirectly, upon the interests (read: profits) of a corporation with ‘investments’ in that country, for the simple fact that the country may not be able to afford to pass the law when legal fees and compensation are added on top of the cost of implementing the policy in the first place.

Whilst the arbitration of such treaties have no force to overturn laws, such powers are not the only way that corporations can attain political control, and if TPP includes hyped-up NAFTA-style measures for investor-state dispute arbitration, political power will be shifted far in favour of democratically unaccountable corporations and away from elected officials and citizens.

Who Arbitrates Trade Disputes?

Aside from the fact that international dispute resolution can effectively function as a method for multinational corporations to violate national laws or even exert political pressure to prevent such laws from passing, there is a further concern about the legitimacy of the arenas within which these disputes will be arbitrated.

Not only do the tribunals operate independently of national law and, hence, remain essentially unaccountable to the people of the countries whose laws are being circumvented, in addition, the institutions used to resolve these disputes under NAFTA—the International Center for the Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID) and the United Nations Commission on International Trade Law (UNCITRAL)—were initially designed for the arbitration of relatively small trade disputes between corporations and, hence, are subject to a substantial amount of secrecy and confidentiality.

Whilst lack of transparency in resolving trade disputes between private corporations might seem acceptable, when issues of national interest are being debated, and potentially huge financial costs could result for states (and hence their citizens) as a result, openness is essential. But if you are a citizen of an affected country, there is effectively no way for you to know the full proceedings of these tribunals, who is arbitrating them, nor their results.

Although we cannot know how the arbitrations would actually proceed under TPP (for familiar reasons), the proceedings under NAFTA raise questions about the impartiality and fairness of any such tribunals. Proceedings so far seem to indicate that rulings will be “capricious and arbitrary“, swaying in favour of corporations rather than governments, given that members of the tribunal are appointed on an ad-hoc basis by parties to the dispute and there is no requirement for transparency or democratic accountability.

Overall, if the TPP agreement extends NAFTA-style investor-state arbitration of trade disputes to much of the rest of the pacific, including to countries with smaller economies and less resources with which to fight such legal battles, the effect will be devastating for local and national businesses, tax-payers, voters, and will undermine democracy in signatory states in favour of increasing the political and economic power of foreign and multinational corporations.

Come back for Part 3 in which I deal more generally with the harmful and undemocratic effects of ‘free’ trade agreements, and use NAFTA and the TPP to draw some lessons.

“Free” Trade and the Erosion of Democratic Accountability, Part 1: The TPP Agreement

This is one of the many times when I’m going to discuss something I’m not really qualified to talk about: politics!

Specifically, my plan is to take on some very general and broadly philosophical issues by focusing on a particular case study to illustrate the point in practice. The discussion will come in three parts, the first two posts being largely informative, with discussion and analysis largely being reserved for a third post on the wider trend of which this case is but one example; namely, the erosion of the democratic accountability of economic bodies as a result of the liberalisation of trade.

One reason for focusing largely on information in this first post is that I think the case in question is hugely significant and yet almost entirely unknown by the public at large. Whilst I have no illusions about the reach of this blog and the size of its audience, the more articles and posts around discussing this issue the better, since discussion has been (almost) entirely absent from mainstream news outlets.

The Trans-Pacific Partnership Agreement

The case I want to discuss is the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) trade agreement. Never heard of it? Well, you should have: it’s been under discussion for around half a decade, next month will see the fifteenth round of negotiations take place in Auckland, NZ, and this summer Canada officially joined the negotiations, bringing the total number of countries involved to eleven.

Furthermore, Japan has expressed interest in joining the TPP recently. Given that America is already a signatory, if Japan was to join in addition, this would mean that two of the three largest economies in the world would be subject to the terms of the treaty. Perhaps most importantly, unlike many other comparable agreements, the TPP is a “docking” agreement, containing provisions for other countries to sign up to to the treaty in the future, so even if you don’t live in a country that’s a signatory of the TPP, you may well do eventually.

What Agreement?

Given how significant the treaty is, the obvious question to ask is why there is no discussion of its merits and advantages, no tedious and long-winded breakdown of its terms and conditions in business papers, no simplified bite-sized versions on the nightly news.

At least one reason is that all of the discussions are being conducted in secret. Want to know what your elected officials are potentially signing up for? Want to see a draft of the agreement? Want to know how the global economy is being shaped? Well tough shit. Unless you’re a rich über-capitalist fortunate enough to own or run a multi-national corporation, you have no legitimate way to access a draft of the agreement, or even know the position of the negotiators working ostensibly on your behalf.

It should say a lot about the interests that the agreement is looking to protect when U.S. Congress members don’t have access to the draft text of the agreement while lobbyists for major multi-national corporations do.

U.S. Trade Representative Ron Kirk, the man in charge of the U.S.’s involvement in these negotiations, has, however, reassured concerned parties that after the agreement has been finalised it “may” be possible to release a draft to the public. How generous of him.

The purported reason for such secrecy?

to preserve negotiating strength and to encourage our partners to be willing to put issues on the table they may not otherwise

To translate: transparency and accountability to the public would mean that the U.S. would be forced to back down on articles in the agreement that go against public interest. There is no such risk in making the draft available to corporations, precisely because the treaty advances their interests. Kirk helpfully hints at this point in his interview with Reuters, noting that previous trade agreements have been held back after drafts were released to the public early. In other words, negotiating strength would be damaged as a result of public backlash, so to stop the pesky public involving themselves in matters that don’t concern them we just have to keep them in the dark.

However, you might legitimately wonder why anybody should care about something as esoteric and technical as a trade agreement, irrespective of how long the negotiations have been going on, how secret it is, and how many countries have joined or may join. After all, what has a trade agreement got to do with anybody not involved in international trade?

Fortunately there are two chapters that have been leaked that give some insight into how the TPP might affect the general population. A lot of what follows is partly speculation or interpretation, however, for the simple reason that even with the leaks there is little to no actual information available (there are twenty nine chapters in total). In addition, what little information we do have is extremely old and has been up for renegotiation several times since it was leaked, so it’s impossible to determine what the final agreement will look like. With that in mind, what we do know is ominous enough to warrant serious attention.

A “Trade” Agreement?

For one, to even call the TPP a trade agreement is hugely misleading. Unsurprisingly, trade agreements are supposed to deal with trade, and particularly with tariffs and quotas. The idea behind free trade agreements, in theory, is to minimise or eliminate protectionist measures like high tariffs and import quotas that restrict the flow of foreign goods into a country.

Whilst the TPP agreement does contain some trade proposals, to be explored more in the next part, the biggest problem with it is that much of the agreement has nothing to do with trade in the above sense. For example, one leaked chapter of the agreement deals exclusively with intellectual property rights, which has nothing to do with dismantling protectionism, but everything to do with protecting and extending corporate interests.

Intellectual Property Rights

The chapter on intellectual property rights reeks of ACTA- and SOPA-style “copyright protection” measures and the language is dangerously open to exploitation even where it is not explicit.

To pick just one example (see tppinfo.org for more comprehensive information about the chapter), the chapter has the potential to vastly extend the reach of anti-piracy legislation by giving corporations the right to precent and prohibit reproductions of their works (film, music and so on) “in any manner or form, permanent or temporary (including temporary storage in electronic form)“.

The problem with this wording is that you make a “temporary” copy of every file you open on your computer, meaning that even loading a webpage containing copyrighted material a violation of copyright. Furthermore, this would hold irrespective of whether you actually downloaded the file, and irrespective of whether your online encounter with the offending material was deliberate or intentional. It should go without saying that this goes well beyond even the most stringent copyright protection measures currently enshrined in law.

Affordable Medicine

Even more worryingly, the chapter on intellectual property rights has troubling implications for public access to affordable medicine. The chapter contains measures that expand the patent rights of medical corporations at the expense of the citizens that might benefit from these medicines.

For example, Doctors Without Borders released a statement condemning the leaked proposals, claiming that

the U.S. demands for the TPP negotiations threaten to roll back vitally important public health safeguards in developing countries, creating a fundamental contradiction between U.S. trade policy and U.S. commitments and priorities on global health.

The problem is that the TPP agreement (again, in its leaked form at least) contains an article that would make it easier for corporations to extend patents for indefinitely long periods of time. The chapter permits patents on a “new form, use, or method of using” an old drug. This means that if a corporation holds a patent on a drug that is about to expire, they can make a minor change to it—one that makes no difference to its actual efficacy—and file for a new patent.

This sort of corporate protectionism seriously drives up the price of drugs by preventing other companies from producing generic versions of the drug not covered by the original patent. These sorts of generics are absolutely crucial when it comes to access to life-saving medicines for the poor and those in developing countries—including, crucially, AIDS medicines—and the TPP would radically undermine the ability for companies to produce them.

In addition to these measures falling outside of the boundaries of trade, there are at least some measures in TPP that are broadly related to actual trading, and in the next post I will explore some of them and compare them to measures implemented in a similar agreement whose effects we have had time to measure: the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). Stay tuned for Part Two!

Interminable Oscillations #2: The Interminable Oscillation

A while ago I wrote an introductory post for a planned series about McDowell’s philosophy of perception. Being a man of my digital word, I have not forgotten, and today I return to make good on that vague plan to probably write some stuff about experience.

At first I wasn’t sure where to begin. If I’m right in my understanding of him, and in the interpretation I’m going to propose in the posts to follow, then the different facets of McDowell’s account of experience are all intertwined and hence not so easily separated into blog-sized chunks. If I knew the first thing about hermeneutics, I might start talking about circles at this point.

Fortunately, I decided that the best solution would be to start with the namesake for this section of the blog: the ‘interminable oscillation’ that McDowell first introduced in his 1994 lecture series, now published under the title Mind and World. Partly this is just a catchy and convenient way to pick a relatively arbitrary starting point, but there is some reason to suppose that this is a philosophically sound place to begin.

For one, this tension lies at the heart of almost all of McDowell’s philosophy of perception in one form or another, and the kernel of almost every facet of his overall theory* can be found somewhere in Mind and World. As such, it seems a philosophically apt place to start in that it is a specific issue that sheds some light on the whole project itself. As such, I’ll try to indicate points of contact as I go along. Hopefully this first issue will provide a context within which to situate the topics to follow and, in turn, hopefully they will shed more light on this sketchy introduction. There’s that pesky circle again.

[*McDowell, or at least Mind and World McDowell, being a good Wittgensteinian, would deny that he had a ‘theory’ of anything at all—see the Introduction to the second edition of Mind and World, or wait out for a future blog post on the topic.]

One of the more understandable Google Image results for “Hermeneutic Circle”.

Anyway, about that oscillation.

McDowell’s oscillation is a peculiarly philosophical one, though purportedly one that we naturally find ourselves drawn into as soon as we begin to reflect on the relationship between thought and reality. In particular, this philosophical oscillation is set in motion as soon as we try to account for the possibility of empirical thought.

For those of you that do not live in the enchanted world of John McDowell, or the universe of analytic philosophy more generally, this idea perhaps needs some explanation. In this spirit, a crude bit of general background information:

McDowell is interested primarily in thoughts that are, loosely speaking, propositional (or, speaking dangerously loosely, linguistic). In common parlance, we usually include under the banner of ‘thought’ the whole harem of fleeting mental images, snippets of songs, memories and so on that form the stream of consciousness that is human mental life. However, McDowell is only interested in thoughts with conceptual content, thoughts that in some sense say something about how things are.

What is important about ‘thought’ in the sense that McDowell is interested in is that these sorts of thoughts are apt for truth or falsity. What I think—the content of my thought—is something that represents things as being a certain way and, hence, opens my thinking up to correctness or incorrectness in a way that literary daydreams about handjobs arguably aren’t. 

Joyce had written a witty rebuttal to my snide comment about Ulysses, but unfortunately it didn’t fit in the caption box.

These sorts of thoughts have fascinated philosophers for a long time; anything from a century to two millennia, depending on how shameless you want to be in foisting contemporary assumptions onto our venerable philosophical forefathers. McDowell sees himself as broadly applying lessons learnt from Kant about the relationship between the world and these sorts of thoughts, albeit within a more modern, linguistic, framework. More about that later.

Furthermore, McDowell is interested mostly in thoughts about the world and things in it—”moderate-sized specimens of dry goods“—thoughts whose content is empirical in the sense that they are about the objective, mind-independent world.

The two terms of the interminable oscillation are effectively two pitfalls that philosophers are apt to fall in to when considering how to account for thoughts with empirical content. Mind and World thus largely consists of McDowell trying to steer his philosophical ship between a philosophical Scylla and Charybdis.

The driving force behind the oscillation is the plausible idea that thoughts come to have empirical content only by being answerable to the world. If the world did not justify some thoughts more than others, make some thoughts true and others false, make some more probable and some less so—in short, if the the world bore no rational relations to thought—then these thoughts would not be empirical.

The first pitfall arises for philosophers that simultaneously hold two beliefs about how to explain how the world constrains thought in this way. The first is that the primary way that the world could come to bear on thought is by means of experience; thought is answerable to the world primarily by being answerable to experiences, understood broadly as impacts that the world makes on consciousness. McDowell calls this idea—the idea that thought is answerable to the world by being answerable to experiences—a ‘minimal empiricism’. The second belief is that experience plays this role even though experiences are nonconceptual impacts on consciousness—mental occurrences that do not bear conceptual content in the way that thoughts in the above sense do.

This latter part of this view McDowell, principally following Sellars, calls the Myth of the Given. Exactly what the Myth is, and whether it is really a myth at all, could (and likely will) take up an entire post, but I’ll at least try to summarise it here first. The Myth is, in essence, the claim that there are rational relations between conceptual things (thoughts in this case) and non-conceptual things (experiences, on this understanding of them). In Sellarsian terms, the Myth is the claim that the space of justifications or reasons extends wider than the space of the conceptual. In neo-Kantian terms, the Myth is simply a variation of the problem concerning how to reconcile spontaneity and nature, freedom and causality.

McDowell argues that the Myth of the Given really is a myth, and cannot be reasonably defended. If, like McDowell, one finds the Myth unconvincing, one may, in attempting to avoid it, fall into the other term of the oscillation: coherentism.

Again, summarising briefly, McDowell believes that coherentists, in trying to avoid the Myth of the Given, overcompensate. They throw the philosophical baby out with the bath water. In common with the philosopher that holds to the Myth, coherentists accept that experiences are nonconceptual impacts on consciousness, but they also accept, like McDowell, that the Myth is a fallacy and should be rejected as such.

Here’s a graph of an oscillation, to prove that philosophy is a Real Science, too!

Given that the coherentist believes both that experiences are nonconceptual and that the nonconceptual cannot stand in rational relations with the conceptual, the coherentist rejects minimal empiricism. Since experiences are nonconceptual, it cannot be via experience that the world comes to bear rationally on thought. Precisely how the coherentist believes that the world does come to bear on thought, if not by experience, is, again, a tale best told another day.

However, that pretty much gets to the heart of the oscillation. This is the state of play:

The challenge is to explain empirical content in terms of the answerability of thought to reality; the rational constraint exerted on the mind by the world.

In the process of explaining this fact about thought, we come across an inconsistent triad of sorts:

  1. Experiences are purely nonconceptual impacts on consciousness, they bear no conceptual content.
  2. The conceptual does not stand in rational relations with (is not answerable to) the nonconceptual.
  3. Thought is answerable to the world primarily by being answerable to experience.

The philosopher of the Myth rejects (2.), embracing the Myth (presumably not as myth). Their challenge is to explain why the Myth of the Given is not obviously false in the way that McDowell takes it to be, to explain how a nonconceptual impact on consciousness could justify or give a reason for thinking anything at all.

The coherentist rejects (3.) and abandons minimal empiricism. Their challenge is to explain how they even meet the terms of the initial challenge in the first place; to explain how thought is rationally responsive to how things are in the world, if not by means of experience.

The interminable oscillation that McDowell speaks of is the constant shift back and forth between coherentism and the Myth, neither of which are acceptable by his lights. His solution should be obvious from the presentation of the problem given above: reject (1.) and argue for the claim that experiences actually are conceptual after all. In so doing, McDowell faces the problem of explaining how it is that experiences are still natural occurrences, interactions with and impacts from a truly mind independent world. His biggest threat, therefore, is idealism.

Hopefully this at least sets the stage for what’s to come, as shallow as the discussion is. As I said, this important issue contains the kernel of almost all aspects of McDowell’s philosophy, even to this present day. We have already seen areas of contact with Kant, Sellars, Wittgenstein and Davidson (coherentism), and the seeds are sown for discussions of epistemological externalism, idealism, Aristotle, Travis, fallibility and disjunctivism.

All of this is still to come, however. For now, we remain trapped in the oscillation with only a hint of how to escape. Stay tuned for more.