Aside: A Brief Comment on Philosophical Blogging

Reading a friend’s blog recently, the following aside made me think about the purpose of philosophical blogging (and, of course, of this blog in particular):

I’ve been obsessing over a paper and all my free time has gone into writing that. What is that paper? Well, maybe one day I’ll talk about it on here, but I am keen to make it clear that what I write on here is distinct from my actual academic work, so you’ll only hear about it if I ever publish it. Sorry!

I get the impression that many academic philosophers use their blog as an online soapbox to get comments on ideas they’ve had, before shaping them for publication. In this sense, blogging functions as an extra route for feedback, in addition to (say) posting draft papers on faculty pages, or the more traditional methods of delivering talks or speaking at conferences.

As far as this blog goes, I stand on the side of the Last Positivist in distinguishing my use from such activities. For now, I’d rather stick to the more traditional methods, and make a clear distinction between my genuine academic writing and my online writing, at least until I’m a bit further in my career!

This, of course, raises the question, however, of exactly what the purpose of a philosophical blog is if not to disseminate and seek feedback on new ideas. Well, for me at least, one of the primary reasons that I write on this blog is for self-clarification. In keeping with the old adage that you understand an idea best when you’ve had to explain it to someone else, I find that writing this blog crystallises the sometimes nebulous understanding that I have of certain philosophers, ideas, and arguments.

In tandem, I hope that this blog can be of help to other people that have struggled with the same issues, perhaps providing a shortcut to understanding that wouldn’t be available if the original text was all that the reader had to rely on. I think this is especially true of some of the philosophers that I have posted about (or plan on writing a post on) whose writing style sometimes makes their ideas slightly opaque on first reading (e.g. Wittgenstein), or those for whom there is relatively little by way of secondary resources to help (e.g. Austin), or both (e.g. Travis).

This last point brings me to two other purposes of the blog. As I have made clear in the last few posts, there are many philosophers whose ideas I think are valuable but neglected. Their neglect online is also typically more noticeable than their neglect in publications (as a search for, e.g., Occasion Sensitivity will testify), and I hope that in some small way this blog might help to disseminate these ideas to more people than they might otherwise reach, simply by giving them voice in a place where (theoretically) anybody can listen. Even though I have no doubt that there are many others that could make the points more clearly, more accurately, or more succinctly than I, unless those people decide to start blogging, I’ll keep writing and do the best I can. In the mean time, I hope that at the very least some of these posts might inspire people to pick up a book or read an article that they otherwise would not, and get the ideas straight from the horse’s mouth (or should that be the cow’s mouth?).

The second point is that I get the impression that there are also a number of misunderstandings or false impressions surrounding many of the philosophers that I find interesting or worthwhile. Often these false impressions are too indeterminate to be the upshot of a genuine philosophical argument or the expression of genuine disagreement. For example, I think the claim that ordinary language philosophy has been discredited comes under this heading, since many philosophers that would assent to this claim either have a vague idea of what ordinary language philosophy is (typically something about ‘appeals to our ordinary uses of words’), or even vaguer ideas about why it’s discredited (typically something about ‘confusing meaning and use’, ‘conflating semantics and pragmatics’, or ‘committing the speech-act fallacy’).

Whilst there are philosophers attempting to make these sorts of false impressions philosophically precise in order to challenge them through philosophical publications, a blog seems like the perfect arena within which to challenge these ideas at the less-than-purely-philosophical level at which they are typically voiced, unearthing the quasi-sociological reasons for their ubiquitousness (see, e.g. “The Strange Death of Ordinary Language Philosophy” for an example)—something which might be out of place in a strictly philosophical publication.

Finally, of course, blogs are havens for navel-gazing, and this one is no exception. Whilst I don’t intend this blog to turn into a public journal any time soon, many of the posts will be quasi-autobiographical in nature—if only forming a sort of philosophical autobiography tracking my interests and beliefs as I try to climb the ladder of professional academic philosophy.

For whatever reason you are reading this blog, whether or not you know me, and whether or not you decide to return, I hope that you find some use for the ideas expressed here. In the wise words of the sage Wittgenstein:

For more than one reason what I write here will have points of contact with what other people are writing to-day.—If my remarks do not bear a stamp which marks them as mine,—I do not wish to lay any further claim to them as my property. I make them public with doubtful feelings.

Perhaps this [blog] will be understood only by someone who has himself already had the thoughts that are expressed in it—or at least similar thoughts… Its purpose would be achieved if it gave pleasure to one person who read and understood it.

 

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!

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.