One of my greatest pleasures this semester has been a course I am taking on the philosophy of Duns Scotus, a medieval Franciscan thinker often over-shadowed by Aquinas due to some unfortunate turns of events in the last 700 years. Selfishly, I enjoy studying his philosophy because of the great emphasis he places on Will. Moving beyond the stupid pun, I do believe Scotus has a conception of the will with the potential to adequately address some issues that arise when speaking about free will and evil. In my experience, the issue of freedom and good/evil is one that can send the mind in circles. If freedom has to do with having options, shouldn't all free beings be able to choose evil? If a being cannot choose evil, how can it be free? Also, when speaking about the will, there is a tendency to subordinate it to the intellect so that the fine-tuned will is one that is perfectly submissive to "reason" (whatever that means). In other words, the mark of a perfectly rational being is one whose will is conditioned to do whatever right reason tells it to do. Obviously, I'm painting in broad strokes here, but this is a blog, after all, and I'm a busy guy.
I think Scotus turns the tables on some of these common notions of rationality. Instead of emphasizing the intellect as the primary rational capacity, he sees the will as prior. His reasons are numerous for this. First, he states that the will is the only power of man that is not necessitated towards its ends. The will can choose to act or not to act; it is not impelled either way. He backs up this notion by appealing to experience: next time you do something reflect on the fact that you could have done otherwise. Secondly, there is the mere fact that you must choose to use reason, reason does not choose itself. Linked to this understanding is Scotus' notion of the two affections of the will: the affectio commodi and the affectio justitiae. The first of these is man's natural inclination to do what is best for himself, the second is his inclination to will the good for itself. Scotus does not pick a side here and claim one to be good and the other evil, but says that both affections of the will are good and necessary for man to flourish. After all, if we had no desire to do what was best for ourselves, why would we will the good for itself, if it is the best thing for us?
So, what does all of this lead to? Scotus, by holding to the two affections of the will, sees that the will is the power most constitutive of a rational being, not the intellect. To Scotus, to be free is to will the good for itself, not to will the good because you have to will the good. He does not denigrate the importance of the intellect in determining man's pursuits, but he also does not think that the will is merely an unruly force to be harnessed by reason. Also, for Scotus, to be free does not necessarily include the capacity for evil. Freedom is the capacity to will the good for itself, which, in man, is finite due to his own finitude, but also includes the admixture of being able to commit evil, as the will is not necessitated towards the good. On the other hand, a being such as God, for Scotus, who has the perfection of being in Himself, always wills what is good in itself because of His own primordial goodness and desire for all to exist in Him. God is not limited by a Platonic form of "goodness" because He is goodness (A topic for another time and place: Scotus holds that the natural moral law, viewed as necessary by many Catholic thinkers, is contingent apart from the command to love God above all things).
Who knew how important I was?
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
A Free-Flowing Discussion- Pt. 1: Intentionality & Method
What is a subject without an object? This is a question that has recurred throughout the history of philosophy, but one that really hit home for Edmund Husserl and the early phenomenological movement. One of the key recognitions of this movement was that consciousness is always consciousness of something. This is one of the key implications of the concept of intentionality. There is no free-floating consciousness that has no object. Phenomenology, as a form of philosophy, is a return to lived consciousness, to experience, as the starting point of philosophy. Necessarily, it is not possible for one to know or encounter a thing that cannot be given in experience, broadly construed. One must not make the mistake of equating experience with sensation, however, as a phenomenological understanding of experience is much wider than the realm of the five senses. Mental experience (thoughts, imaginations, etc.) and intuition of essences (the necessary form of beings considered apart from existence) would be included. The point of phenomenology, then, seems to be that philosophy is not something done outside of life in some hyper-intellectualized flight from the lived-world. The lived-world is the basis for philosophy, and all are enabled to philosophize by their thrown-ness in experience and their ability to be true to their own self-givenness.
I will expand more on this topic in the days to come...with a critique of strict subject-object intentionality (with a touch of things-in-themselves) being next.
I will expand more on this topic in the days to come...with a critique of strict subject-object intentionality (with a touch of things-in-themselves) being next.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
TMTKI Forum I- Berkeley on God/Matter
Greetings, everyone. I would like to try something different with this latest post. Rather than expounding my own views on various issues (for now, at least), I would like to make this blog properly philosophical by opening up a forum for some dialogue. Of course, I get to choose the topic, so I get to funnel the philosophical energy (tyranny!), but I hope that those of you with any thoughts on the topic (don't be shy) will feel welcome to generously share them in this cyber space. Any thoughts will do, really...anything from a visceral reaction to a cogent refutation/appraisal. So, without further ado, I give you the discussion-piece for this forum: George Berkeley's Proof for the Existence of God.
Premise #1- "Sensible things cannot exist otherwise than in a mind or spirit."
Berkeley held that the objects of sense perception were mind-dependent because (he thought) without a mind they would not exist. The famous (in philosophy) phrase "esse est percipi (aut percipere)"--"to be is to be perceived (or to perceive)"--comes from Berkeley.
Premise #2- "They (objects of sensation) do not depend on my thought, and have an existence distinct from being perceived by me."
Basically, he is saying that we do not come up with our sense perceptions, they just happen. They are not just perceived by us, either.
Conclusion- "There must be some other Mind wherein they exist."
Added bonus- "And from the variety, order, and manner of these, I conclude the Author of them to be wise, powerful, and good, beyond comprehension.”
Because we do not come up with our perceptions, but because they can only exist in minds, there must be some other mind that causes sense perception. He concludes that this all-perceiving mind is good, powerful, and wise because of the laws that perception follow. Just an FYI, if you want to agree with Berkeley, be prepared to concede that matter has no independent existence from the mind. Dialogue...begin!
Premise #1- "Sensible things cannot exist otherwise than in a mind or spirit."
Berkeley held that the objects of sense perception were mind-dependent because (he thought) without a mind they would not exist. The famous (in philosophy) phrase "esse est percipi (aut percipere)"--"to be is to be perceived (or to perceive)"--comes from Berkeley.
Premise #2- "They (objects of sensation) do not depend on my thought, and have an existence distinct from being perceived by me."
Basically, he is saying that we do not come up with our sense perceptions, they just happen. They are not just perceived by us, either.
Conclusion- "There must be some other Mind wherein they exist."
Added bonus- "And from the variety, order, and manner of these, I conclude the Author of them to be wise, powerful, and good, beyond comprehension.”
Because we do not come up with our perceptions, but because they can only exist in minds, there must be some other mind that causes sense perception. He concludes that this all-perceiving mind is good, powerful, and wise because of the laws that perception follow. Just an FYI, if you want to agree with Berkeley, be prepared to concede that matter has no independent existence from the mind. Dialogue...begin!
Saturday, September 3, 2011
TMTKI V- Where is the Love?
Hopefully it's easier to find than a new post from TMTKI, because they've been pretty sparse of late (whoops). I come to you today at the beginning of a new semester here in beautiful (and unseasonably hot) Steubenville, Ohio, and the philosophical juices are really starting to flow after nearly running dry during the dog days of summer that seemingly scorched both the earth and my mind (neither of these actually happened, but that does sound poetic or something). One of my classes this semester is called "Person and Love," and we seem to have really hit the ground running (or philosophizing?) while discussing one of Plato's timeless dialogues- Symposium. I have found very thought-provoking philosophical fodder in this work, and I would like to share with you some of the highlights of both the class discussion and my own ponderings.
In Symposium, Plato, speaking through Socrates, gives an account of love that may be startling and offensive to some at first glance, as he begins by deriding the idea of love and claiming that because it is based on desire for the beauty of another thing, there is a lack of beauty or goodness necessarily implied in the lover. He goes onto to soften his position a bit, saying that love is merely an in-between, almost purgatorial state of being characterized by the striving towards goodness, truth, and beauty, but also an incompletion and brokenness that goes along with being an imperfect creature. It is noted that love/desire can lead man both to a seeking of the highest goods (wisdom/truth) and a wallowing in base pleasures (sensuality, hedonism) to fill the void of his existence, and that it is in need of cultivation. Plato does admit that beauty can be concretized in the world of the senses and should be recognized there when possible, but there is an overriding air of skepticism towards the flesh, the "prison-house of the soul." As some of you may know, Plato was really into the ideal forms, and found them to be much more worthy of love and contemplation than things given to the senses. I would suggest reading the dialogue if you have any interest in this topic, as I have given it merely the sketchiest of outlines and focused only on the parts of the dialogue that touch on areas that I wish to discuss.
Two things (for now) strike me as problematic in Plato's theory of love as given in Symposium. Firstly, a theory of love based on the desire to unite oneself with or possess beautiful things (or beauty itself) because of an inherent lack in oneself leaves me somewhat cold. I believe a theory of love based on lack is radically insufficient to explain many types of love. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that this type of love ought to apply to very few things, especially not to the love of wisdom (philosophy) that Plato holds in such high esteem. It seems that the only types of love that are truly based on a lack, or a poverty, are those that stem from extreme physical needs such as hunger/thirst, sickness, etc. I do not wish to say that food/drink and health are only desired for survival purposes, but I think everyone can agree that a person who is starving will desire food more than a person who just finished a hot dog eating contest. This being said, I think one could argue that the person who loves food the most is the one who recognizes its full value (aesthetic, flavor, healthiness, etc.) and not just the fact that it will satiate hunger. This is why I believe a theory of love based on lack is woefully insufficient. To me, love is based on the goodness and value of an object primarily, not a lack in the lover. This is not to say that lack has nothing to do with love, as I think that a very lovable thing will be sought more intensely if one has not experienced it before or enough. However, the idea that lack is at the heart of love is, in my view, misguided primarily because it takes a circumstance that can intensify love and sets it up as the a priori grounding of it.
A second, perhaps more modern (philosophically speaking) concern is the effect that a lack-theory of love has on the potential for self-love. It seems ridiculous to say that one loves oneself due to a lack or even a desire for oneself. The fact of the matter is that one is one's own self, and that there is never a lack of oneself in one's own life. Perhaps this was not a concern of Plato, but unless he wants to deny the existence of self-love, I do not see how it could fit into his lack-based conception of love.
Peace be with you,
William
CUFC- "Noni's Field" by Anathallo is always a tune I find myself going back to for inspiration and enjoyment.
In Symposium, Plato, speaking through Socrates, gives an account of love that may be startling and offensive to some at first glance, as he begins by deriding the idea of love and claiming that because it is based on desire for the beauty of another thing, there is a lack of beauty or goodness necessarily implied in the lover. He goes onto to soften his position a bit, saying that love is merely an in-between, almost purgatorial state of being characterized by the striving towards goodness, truth, and beauty, but also an incompletion and brokenness that goes along with being an imperfect creature. It is noted that love/desire can lead man both to a seeking of the highest goods (wisdom/truth) and a wallowing in base pleasures (sensuality, hedonism) to fill the void of his existence, and that it is in need of cultivation. Plato does admit that beauty can be concretized in the world of the senses and should be recognized there when possible, but there is an overriding air of skepticism towards the flesh, the "prison-house of the soul." As some of you may know, Plato was really into the ideal forms, and found them to be much more worthy of love and contemplation than things given to the senses. I would suggest reading the dialogue if you have any interest in this topic, as I have given it merely the sketchiest of outlines and focused only on the parts of the dialogue that touch on areas that I wish to discuss.
Two things (for now) strike me as problematic in Plato's theory of love as given in Symposium. Firstly, a theory of love based on the desire to unite oneself with or possess beautiful things (or beauty itself) because of an inherent lack in oneself leaves me somewhat cold. I believe a theory of love based on lack is radically insufficient to explain many types of love. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that this type of love ought to apply to very few things, especially not to the love of wisdom (philosophy) that Plato holds in such high esteem. It seems that the only types of love that are truly based on a lack, or a poverty, are those that stem from extreme physical needs such as hunger/thirst, sickness, etc. I do not wish to say that food/drink and health are only desired for survival purposes, but I think everyone can agree that a person who is starving will desire food more than a person who just finished a hot dog eating contest. This being said, I think one could argue that the person who loves food the most is the one who recognizes its full value (aesthetic, flavor, healthiness, etc.) and not just the fact that it will satiate hunger. This is why I believe a theory of love based on lack is woefully insufficient. To me, love is based on the goodness and value of an object primarily, not a lack in the lover. This is not to say that lack has nothing to do with love, as I think that a very lovable thing will be sought more intensely if one has not experienced it before or enough. However, the idea that lack is at the heart of love is, in my view, misguided primarily because it takes a circumstance that can intensify love and sets it up as the a priori grounding of it.
A second, perhaps more modern (philosophically speaking) concern is the effect that a lack-theory of love has on the potential for self-love. It seems ridiculous to say that one loves oneself due to a lack or even a desire for oneself. The fact of the matter is that one is one's own self, and that there is never a lack of oneself in one's own life. Perhaps this was not a concern of Plato, but unless he wants to deny the existence of self-love, I do not see how it could fit into his lack-based conception of love.
Peace be with you,
William
CUFC- "Noni's Field" by Anathallo is always a tune I find myself going back to for inspiration and enjoyment.
Friday, July 15, 2011
TMTKI IV- "Well, What IS Truth, Anyway?"
It has been two and a half long weeks since TMTKI has graced the internet with some of the pithiest philosophical analysis anyone could ever hope to come across, but I assure you that it was not forgotten during my Oregonian/GRE-related endeavors, as I must have thought about this blog for at least fifteen entire minutes in that time. So do not fear--there are surely abundant fruits to be reaped from that intense quarter hour of reflection...so sit back, grab a beverage and enjoy reading for the next few minutes or so!
One of the most central philosophical questions that is discussed amongst those who are brave enough to involve themselves in such crazy activities is the query, "What is truth?" Certainly, I cannot answer this for you succinctly (or at all), but I would like to enter into a phenomenological analysis of some of the ways that the word seems to be used in everyday speech as a potential springboard into the thought of Maurice Merleau-Ponty.
I would think that the most common usage of the word "truth" is in reference to whether something has or has not occurred. For example, it is frequently the case that, when a person is confronted with shocking or outlandish news, they will ask, "Is this true?" On this account, one possible interpretation of the word "truth," or its adjectival counterpart "true," could be loosely defined as "what is the case." If you were a real dork, you could ask "Is this what is the case?" instead of "Is this true?" and it would mean the same thing. But, if we really think about it, is "that which is the case" an acceptable definition for truth/true? If so, then is there any real distinction between truth and reality? Perhaps you may not see this as a problem, but I would like to entertain further possible meanings of truth before I let this topic die.
Another possible meaning for "truth," I think, in our common language example is "an accurate account of what is the case." This is an important distinction, because this means that truth is not "that which is," but rather "an accurate account of that which is." We seem to have a potential distinction in common language, then, between reality ("that which is") and truth ("an accurate account of that which is"). Therefore, in order to have truth, one must not only have something "out there" which really exists, but also an account or description of this by means of language. At this point, I would like to bring in my good friend, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, who would probably agree with this point at a rudimentary level. In his early work, he sees truth as a linguistic expression of that which is given in perception. He believes truth is never exhaustive of the original phenomenon it expresses, as the original phenomenon ("that which is/was") is also the most meaningful giver of itself, not what can be said about it. For Merleau-Ponty, there is always something more that truth cannot cover because it is a second-tier entity made possible only by the original phenomenon.
Now, I'm sure some may be starting to sweat a bit, as fears of relativism start to creep into their minds. "No truth without language? No statement is ever completely true? Absurd!" Allow me to (hopefully) allay your concerns. Merleau-Ponty was no relativist. Rather, he saw language as the medium through which truth comes into being. For Merleau-Ponty, language as truth-making is akin to art in that it must exquisitely give expression to the primary phenomenon that inspires it. He claims that truth can never fully express phenomena not because he thinks that truth is relative, but because there is always something left out of language that the original phenomenon possesses. Back to our common language example, when someone asks whether something is true or not, they can be answered because truth is measured by expression of and adherence to the phenomenon. Additionally, when someone asks you to "tell the truth," you can do this with varying degrees of success. A terse, reticent, true answer can be given while a descriptive, trenchant, true answer can also be given. I am inclined to say that the second is more true, because it more authentically expresses reality than the former, although neither would be false. To give another common language example, I believe Merleau-Ponty would be a fan of the saying "there is some truth to that," as he does not see truth and falsity as being black and white (a binary), but rather as a variegated spectrum of possibilities. Some things are more or less true (or false) than others, on his account. This is why Merleau-Ponty describes the task of the philosopher as the "laying down of being." Being must be pinned down and explored through the medium of language, of truth-making, as without this there would be no philosophy. Language and truth, being expressive of being, add new dimensions to it that previously did not exist.
Certainly Merleau-Ponty's account of truth does not tell the whole story (this would contradict his whole claim), but I think it is an interesting step in the right direction as far as gaining an understanding of what truth is. There is much more to be said about Merleau-Ponty, and my brief overview of his theory does not do it justice. He certainly views language as something much more robust than simply speech, and I do not wish to suggest that truth is found only in spoken/written communication. To conclude, I would simply like to point out that it is not surprising to me that in the Christian tradition, Jesus Christ is referred to both as the Truth and the Word. I cannot embark on an exegesis at this time, but I think there is much good fruit to be found from a reflection on this topic, and I hope this post has expanded your horizons a bit.
Peace be with you,
William
CUFC- If you ever get a chance, visit the state of Oregon, as it is one of the most beautiful regions of the country.
One of the most central philosophical questions that is discussed amongst those who are brave enough to involve themselves in such crazy activities is the query, "What is truth?" Certainly, I cannot answer this for you succinctly (or at all), but I would like to enter into a phenomenological analysis of some of the ways that the word seems to be used in everyday speech as a potential springboard into the thought of Maurice Merleau-Ponty.
I would think that the most common usage of the word "truth" is in reference to whether something has or has not occurred. For example, it is frequently the case that, when a person is confronted with shocking or outlandish news, they will ask, "Is this true?" On this account, one possible interpretation of the word "truth," or its adjectival counterpart "true," could be loosely defined as "what is the case." If you were a real dork, you could ask "Is this what is the case?" instead of "Is this true?" and it would mean the same thing. But, if we really think about it, is "that which is the case" an acceptable definition for truth/true? If so, then is there any real distinction between truth and reality? Perhaps you may not see this as a problem, but I would like to entertain further possible meanings of truth before I let this topic die.
Another possible meaning for "truth," I think, in our common language example is "an accurate account of what is the case." This is an important distinction, because this means that truth is not "that which is," but rather "an accurate account of that which is." We seem to have a potential distinction in common language, then, between reality ("that which is") and truth ("an accurate account of that which is"). Therefore, in order to have truth, one must not only have something "out there" which really exists, but also an account or description of this by means of language. At this point, I would like to bring in my good friend, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, who would probably agree with this point at a rudimentary level. In his early work, he sees truth as a linguistic expression of that which is given in perception. He believes truth is never exhaustive of the original phenomenon it expresses, as the original phenomenon ("that which is/was") is also the most meaningful giver of itself, not what can be said about it. For Merleau-Ponty, there is always something more that truth cannot cover because it is a second-tier entity made possible only by the original phenomenon.
Now, I'm sure some may be starting to sweat a bit, as fears of relativism start to creep into their minds. "No truth without language? No statement is ever completely true? Absurd!" Allow me to (hopefully) allay your concerns. Merleau-Ponty was no relativist. Rather, he saw language as the medium through which truth comes into being. For Merleau-Ponty, language as truth-making is akin to art in that it must exquisitely give expression to the primary phenomenon that inspires it. He claims that truth can never fully express phenomena not because he thinks that truth is relative, but because there is always something left out of language that the original phenomenon possesses. Back to our common language example, when someone asks whether something is true or not, they can be answered because truth is measured by expression of and adherence to the phenomenon. Additionally, when someone asks you to "tell the truth," you can do this with varying degrees of success. A terse, reticent, true answer can be given while a descriptive, trenchant, true answer can also be given. I am inclined to say that the second is more true, because it more authentically expresses reality than the former, although neither would be false. To give another common language example, I believe Merleau-Ponty would be a fan of the saying "there is some truth to that," as he does not see truth and falsity as being black and white (a binary), but rather as a variegated spectrum of possibilities. Some things are more or less true (or false) than others, on his account. This is why Merleau-Ponty describes the task of the philosopher as the "laying down of being." Being must be pinned down and explored through the medium of language, of truth-making, as without this there would be no philosophy. Language and truth, being expressive of being, add new dimensions to it that previously did not exist.
Certainly Merleau-Ponty's account of truth does not tell the whole story (this would contradict his whole claim), but I think it is an interesting step in the right direction as far as gaining an understanding of what truth is. There is much more to be said about Merleau-Ponty, and my brief overview of his theory does not do it justice. He certainly views language as something much more robust than simply speech, and I do not wish to suggest that truth is found only in spoken/written communication. To conclude, I would simply like to point out that it is not surprising to me that in the Christian tradition, Jesus Christ is referred to both as the Truth and the Word. I cannot embark on an exegesis at this time, but I think there is much good fruit to be found from a reflection on this topic, and I hope this post has expanded your horizons a bit.
Peace be with you,
William
CUFC- If you ever get a chance, visit the state of Oregon, as it is one of the most beautiful regions of the country.
Monday, June 27, 2011
TMTKI III- Virtue is No Meanie
Pardon the heinously awful pun, but I saw it as a perfect (bit of an overstatement) segue to this latest post about the theory of virtue, namely Aristotle's famous theory of the Golden Mean, but also about whether virtue could be considered a means to some end (double-meaning!).
Throughout the history of philosophy, there have been countless definitions of what it means to be moral. Cataloging these could be the project of a life time, and I do not want to embark on such a quest today (or ever), but I do want to discuss some things that I believe must be essential to any relevant discussion of virtue theory. To start, I would like to share some thoughts on the Golden Mean theory postulated by Aristotle over 2,300 years ago. For starters, there is debate in academia these days about whether Aristotle even had any notion of "moral" virtue, that is, virtues that ought to be practiced simply because it is "right" to do so. Aristotle does have the notion of eudaimonia, or human flourishing/happiness, as the outgrowth of the practice of virtue, but it is unclear whether this is meant in a moral sense. It seems he may simply have been referring to the best way to live a contented life, and he does not make explicit mention that his Golden Mean theory was anything that bore moral weight. I am far from an expert on Aristotle, and I would like to table the discussion of whether or not his theory of virtue was intended morally or not and move to a critical analysis of how his theory stands up if it is to be taken as a definitive definition of virtue. Could the Golden Mean theory be a proper theory of what virtue is, or is it rather just a description of what virtue happens to look like in practice?
When interpreting Aristotle's Golden Mean theory of virtue, some attribute the phrase "everything in moderation" to him. It is clear that this is not Aristotle's position, as he makes reference to the fact that one does not ingest poison in moderation in his works. The Golden Mean does not entail that one must have every single thing in moderation, but rather that virtue is often the balancing of two opposing forces within oneself. For example, one instantiation of temperance requires that one both not eat/drink too much or too little, lest one be intemperate. Now, this is a perfectly sound empirical observation made by Aristotle, but is a Golden Mean really what virtue is? One might question what exactly it means to be above or below the mean when it comes to a given virtue. One thing is clear, Aristotle cannot (or, at least, should not) hold that the mean is a balance between either too much or too little of a certain virtue. It is ridiculous to say that someone either has too much or too little bravery. One is either brave in some respect, or one is not; the spectrum of the Golden Mean is measured by gradations of having a specific virtue. Surely, someone could be braver than another, but it can never be a negative thing to have bravery. When presented with a dangerous situation, one is either cowardly, brave, or foolhardy. Additionally, Aristotle himself admits that some virtues do not admit of deficiencies or surpluses. This seems to stick a fork in any ontological interpretation of the Golden Mean theory, as it cannot be of the essential structure of virtue to be the mean between two extremes.
When we pick up the pieces of what is left of the Golden Mean theory, it seems as if all that remains is a moderately astute observation made by Aristotle about what virtue entails. Surely, within man there are drives to be weak, self-indulgent, and impractical, however, I do not believe that these drives have a positive relation to virtue as much as they demonstrate the lack thereof. The Golden Mean theory is not worthless, as there are grains of truth in it, but it is not a proper definition of virtue. Virtue can only be the excellence of man at being man. By positing a theory of virtue, one must necessarily have in mind some sort of human nature or essence, as without some common nature there could not be something that is the perfection of all people. This leaves open nearly limitless possibilities for what true virtue could be, but it must entail some common nature. Furthermore, if one is to pursue some type of virtue theory in ethics, it must preclude any view of virtue as a means to an end. Virtue, being the perfection of man, is always the end of his life, and is never the means to any goal, such as happiness, pleasure, etc.; it is good in itself. I realize that I have not filled in much of the void left by my rejection of the Golden Mean theory as a true theory of virtue, but that would take many more words and is a task for a different day. For now, I think it suffices to say that virtue is neither a Golden Mean or a means to an end, and it certainly is not a meanie (yikes)!
Peace be with you,
William
P.S.- I think, as a part of my whole project (oh, how pretentious of me!) to make philosophy about real life, I am going to start posting artistic suggestions at the end of each new blog post from here on out. Let's call them "Concretizations of the Universal Form of Coolness"
CUFC- "Sabertooth Tiger" and "Toboggan" by Breathe Owl Breathe (songs), Downton Abbey (BBC show)
Throughout the history of philosophy, there have been countless definitions of what it means to be moral. Cataloging these could be the project of a life time, and I do not want to embark on such a quest today (or ever), but I do want to discuss some things that I believe must be essential to any relevant discussion of virtue theory. To start, I would like to share some thoughts on the Golden Mean theory postulated by Aristotle over 2,300 years ago. For starters, there is debate in academia these days about whether Aristotle even had any notion of "moral" virtue, that is, virtues that ought to be practiced simply because it is "right" to do so. Aristotle does have the notion of eudaimonia, or human flourishing/happiness, as the outgrowth of the practice of virtue, but it is unclear whether this is meant in a moral sense. It seems he may simply have been referring to the best way to live a contented life, and he does not make explicit mention that his Golden Mean theory was anything that bore moral weight. I am far from an expert on Aristotle, and I would like to table the discussion of whether or not his theory of virtue was intended morally or not and move to a critical analysis of how his theory stands up if it is to be taken as a definitive definition of virtue. Could the Golden Mean theory be a proper theory of what virtue is, or is it rather just a description of what virtue happens to look like in practice?
When interpreting Aristotle's Golden Mean theory of virtue, some attribute the phrase "everything in moderation" to him. It is clear that this is not Aristotle's position, as he makes reference to the fact that one does not ingest poison in moderation in his works. The Golden Mean does not entail that one must have every single thing in moderation, but rather that virtue is often the balancing of two opposing forces within oneself. For example, one instantiation of temperance requires that one both not eat/drink too much or too little, lest one be intemperate. Now, this is a perfectly sound empirical observation made by Aristotle, but is a Golden Mean really what virtue is? One might question what exactly it means to be above or below the mean when it comes to a given virtue. One thing is clear, Aristotle cannot (or, at least, should not) hold that the mean is a balance between either too much or too little of a certain virtue. It is ridiculous to say that someone either has too much or too little bravery. One is either brave in some respect, or one is not; the spectrum of the Golden Mean is measured by gradations of having a specific virtue. Surely, someone could be braver than another, but it can never be a negative thing to have bravery. When presented with a dangerous situation, one is either cowardly, brave, or foolhardy. Additionally, Aristotle himself admits that some virtues do not admit of deficiencies or surpluses. This seems to stick a fork in any ontological interpretation of the Golden Mean theory, as it cannot be of the essential structure of virtue to be the mean between two extremes.
When we pick up the pieces of what is left of the Golden Mean theory, it seems as if all that remains is a moderately astute observation made by Aristotle about what virtue entails. Surely, within man there are drives to be weak, self-indulgent, and impractical, however, I do not believe that these drives have a positive relation to virtue as much as they demonstrate the lack thereof. The Golden Mean theory is not worthless, as there are grains of truth in it, but it is not a proper definition of virtue. Virtue can only be the excellence of man at being man. By positing a theory of virtue, one must necessarily have in mind some sort of human nature or essence, as without some common nature there could not be something that is the perfection of all people. This leaves open nearly limitless possibilities for what true virtue could be, but it must entail some common nature. Furthermore, if one is to pursue some type of virtue theory in ethics, it must preclude any view of virtue as a means to an end. Virtue, being the perfection of man, is always the end of his life, and is never the means to any goal, such as happiness, pleasure, etc.; it is good in itself. I realize that I have not filled in much of the void left by my rejection of the Golden Mean theory as a true theory of virtue, but that would take many more words and is a task for a different day. For now, I think it suffices to say that virtue is neither a Golden Mean or a means to an end, and it certainly is not a meanie (yikes)!
Peace be with you,
William
P.S.- I think, as a part of my whole project (oh, how pretentious of me!) to make philosophy about real life, I am going to start posting artistic suggestions at the end of each new blog post from here on out. Let's call them "Concretizations of the Universal Form of Coolness"
CUFC- "Sabertooth Tiger" and "Toboggan" by Breathe Owl Breathe (songs), Downton Abbey (BBC show)
Saturday, June 25, 2011
TMTKI II- Capitalism and Value
One topic that I have had an increasing interest in over the past couple of years is the effect that our capitalist economy/government/society has on the American mind and its ability to make value judgments. It cannot be denied that the values people hold near-and-dear are shaped in part by the society they are in; even those who reject the values of their society are shaped by them because of their very standing against them. To come to a better understanding of the American mindset, of which I and most, if not all, of the people who will ever read this, are a part, I think it is crucial to elucidate the force that has potentially the strongest pull on its workings, capitalism. Before I delve too deeply (or, most likely, superficially) into this subject, I first want to add the disclaimer that I am not a socialist or a Marxist of any sort. I simply want to enter in to an honest critique of the workings of the capitalist framework of our society from a (hopefully) thoughtful and observant perspective. While I do believe Marx had some insightful points when it comes to the downfalls of capitalism, I also believe that some people do best to avoid system-building and stick to system-criticizing. With that said, I hope it is safe to move on to a critique of American capitalism.
Adam Smith, in The Wealth of Nations, describes capitalism as seeking to harness the "invisible hand" that is moving society at that time. By this it is meant the primary urge or desire being manifest by a sufficient number of people (aka "demand"). Now, there is a fine line between harnessing the invisible hand and creating the invisible hand, but ultimately I think capitalism attempts both quite successfully. The ideal capitalist is the one who sees what people want (or "should" want) and gives it to them (for only $19.99!). It is assumed that whatever people want is whatever is best for them and for the society/economy. I think this alone is a dangerous and questionable tenet, but the indictment does not end here. Moving to my point about value-perception, it is clear to me that there is a means by which capitalists measure the value of things within their framework: the almighty dollar. It can be seen here that capitalism is not just an economic system, but a philosophy of life and power that sees the one with the most dollars as the one who is top-dog. Certainly capitalism is not as oppressive as communism or fascism, but there is a degree of enslavement to the dollar that we all seem to be susceptible to. In the capitalist framework, it is easy to value everything in terms of dollar signs. The problem with this is that the amount of money something is worth is totally constructed by those who institute the framework in the first place. Sure, it is a good thing to save money, but who decides whether something should be worth more or less money? Ultimately, the entire system of capitalism has to come back to making money, which is the very reason why I question it. The measurement of value and power in terms of currency fails to grant inherent value to anything except for power. The pure capitalist cannot really say that anything is good except for having money, which is a means to power--power to do whatever you want. This is a point that led Max Scheler to hold that capitalism implies a value-relativism. He saw that the entire purpose of capitalism is to discover what people want and give it to them through the medium of currency. Supply and demand determines what does or does not have value. But, the very thing that determines this supply and demand is the fickle yearnings of the human soul. Therefore, the best capitalist is the one who either sees what people want, or can make people want. The whole point is to gain power through the power of exploitation and the medium of currency so that one can do whatever floats one's proverbial boat. Sounds a lot like Nietzsche to me. Now, you may be quaking in your boots with fury for such an indictment against good old America, but I think this criticism is valid and warrants the attention of those who care about values other than power and control. It is true that there are laws that govern our society, but do they stem purely from a moral perspective, or are they simply "what the people want," another way to satisfy their needs and obtain power? It may be a mixed bag, but one certainly does not have to look far to see potential places where this relativistic, power-thirsty worldview has ingrained itself in the national psyche. The pornography industry is booming in America, and our food is fraught with unnatural, harmful chemicals. The medical industry is truly an industry. Farm animals are treated as if they had no ability to feel pain and no intrinsic worth whatsoever. What is the justification for all of this? "It's what people want (or need)." "We can sure make a lot of money." I believe this is source of many of the problems in our society, and I think that a distancing from the values of pure capitalism is necessary in order to recover (or perhaps gain for the first time) moral integrity for our country.
Peace be with you,
William
Adam Smith, in The Wealth of Nations, describes capitalism as seeking to harness the "invisible hand" that is moving society at that time. By this it is meant the primary urge or desire being manifest by a sufficient number of people (aka "demand"). Now, there is a fine line between harnessing the invisible hand and creating the invisible hand, but ultimately I think capitalism attempts both quite successfully. The ideal capitalist is the one who sees what people want (or "should" want) and gives it to them (for only $19.99!). It is assumed that whatever people want is whatever is best for them and for the society/economy. I think this alone is a dangerous and questionable tenet, but the indictment does not end here. Moving to my point about value-perception, it is clear to me that there is a means by which capitalists measure the value of things within their framework: the almighty dollar. It can be seen here that capitalism is not just an economic system, but a philosophy of life and power that sees the one with the most dollars as the one who is top-dog. Certainly capitalism is not as oppressive as communism or fascism, but there is a degree of enslavement to the dollar that we all seem to be susceptible to. In the capitalist framework, it is easy to value everything in terms of dollar signs. The problem with this is that the amount of money something is worth is totally constructed by those who institute the framework in the first place. Sure, it is a good thing to save money, but who decides whether something should be worth more or less money? Ultimately, the entire system of capitalism has to come back to making money, which is the very reason why I question it. The measurement of value and power in terms of currency fails to grant inherent value to anything except for power. The pure capitalist cannot really say that anything is good except for having money, which is a means to power--power to do whatever you want. This is a point that led Max Scheler to hold that capitalism implies a value-relativism. He saw that the entire purpose of capitalism is to discover what people want and give it to them through the medium of currency. Supply and demand determines what does or does not have value. But, the very thing that determines this supply and demand is the fickle yearnings of the human soul. Therefore, the best capitalist is the one who either sees what people want, or can make people want. The whole point is to gain power through the power of exploitation and the medium of currency so that one can do whatever floats one's proverbial boat. Sounds a lot like Nietzsche to me. Now, you may be quaking in your boots with fury for such an indictment against good old America, but I think this criticism is valid and warrants the attention of those who care about values other than power and control. It is true that there are laws that govern our society, but do they stem purely from a moral perspective, or are they simply "what the people want," another way to satisfy their needs and obtain power? It may be a mixed bag, but one certainly does not have to look far to see potential places where this relativistic, power-thirsty worldview has ingrained itself in the national psyche. The pornography industry is booming in America, and our food is fraught with unnatural, harmful chemicals. The medical industry is truly an industry. Farm animals are treated as if they had no ability to feel pain and no intrinsic worth whatsoever. What is the justification for all of this? "It's what people want (or need)." "We can sure make a lot of money." I believe this is source of many of the problems in our society, and I think that a distancing from the values of pure capitalism is necessary in order to recover (or perhaps gain for the first time) moral integrity for our country.
Peace be with you,
William
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