Ok, I know that I have to be wrong about this, but for the life of me I can't seem to sort through my own mess. Maybe someone can help me!
We touched on this topic in class a bit. I am having trouble figuring out the logical necessity for the "I", or what seems to be something of a transcendental ego, coming before the transcendental aesthetic. My confusion is this:
1. The transcendental aesthetic is the condition for the possibility of experience.
2. The transcendental ego is the condition for the possibility of experiencing the transcendental aesthetic.
3. We have an intuition of the transcendental ego as a focal point for all experience. (this an intuition through time and space)
4. isnt the intuition of our transcendental ego the condition for having a focal point?
5. if so, isnt the transcendental aesthetic the condition for the possibility of the intuition of the transcendental ego?
So if we are only aware of our centrality (focal point) through time and space, doesn't that give logical priority to the aesthetic as before the ego? musn't there be a transcendental aesthetic in order for our focal point to exist? and also musn't there also be an ego for our intuition of space and time to exist?
Ok, now i am repeating myself. The logical priority of one of these coming before the other is unclear to me. It seems like they both must necissarily exist prior to the existance, or at least the experience of the other; or perhaps the aesthetic must exist for the ego to exist, but the ego must only exist for us to have access to the aesthetic. By that I'm simply trying to avoid "experience the aescthetic" because I don't want to imply they are things in themselves...even though the aesthetic must exist in order for the ego to exist...
Monday, May 10, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Why Modern Philosophy?
The focus of this blog is consider possible reasons why modern philosophy came about and where philosophers are to go from this point.
Starting with Bacon, the modern project began to develop. Post-renaissance natural science and philosophy (or natural philosophy, if you're Bacon) shifted to obtaining knowledge in a new way, i.e. with Descartes' skeptical idealism over Aristotle's objective realism (to speak broadly). Descartes' skepticism began a philosophical route that was never shaken, for even though Kant successfully overcame the Humean problem, he recognized that Descartes' fundamental doubt holds when experience is considered as a direct channel to reality. Soon, philosophy resulted in Nietzsche, and eventually resulted in Rorty. I am not one to claim that these two examples are necessary or inevitable--I am merely pointing out they did come along, and in all likelihood would not have if they lived during Aristotle's time. They were timely.
Was modern philosophy, then, just so timely? Did it come about merely because of historical influences? Or were the modern philosophers on to some aspect of Truth on which the ancients did not pick up? It seems as if we are left with few choices: (1) Admit of the necessity of a Kantian-based philosophy, (2) Reject the modern project and revert to ancient ideals, or (3) Become skeptics or nihilists or Rortians.
After now studying both modern and contemporary philosophy (albeit in meagre amounts compared to the whole), I continue to hold an ancient philosophical perspective. But I also maintain that it is ineluctably apropos for the philosophy student to not ignore the history of philosophy and admit of the advances that have been made in the history as a whole. If anything (and this a stretch in the conservative direction), modern philosophy sufficiently shows the shaky ground on which mere subjective experience leaves us, and calls either itself or the possibility of the knowledge of Truth into question altogether. It seems to be, at bottom, a necessary tenet of living the philosophical life in the modern world to be familiar with a broad range of (if not all) systems of thought and philosophical ideas, for not until we know how we got here will we honestly know where we stand.
Modern Philosophy and Science-envy
Looking back upon all we have read this semester, the theme of science is prevalent. Many of the moderns seem to have a sort of science-envy, and this may be for good reason. After the Renaissance, the natural sciences started making leaps and bounds in terms of inventions and discoveries. Looking around, philosophers noticed that the philosophy of the ancient and middle ages didn't do as much as they wanted it to do. On top of this, much of it seemed to be founded on something shaky. I will offer a short summary of the ways in which the moderns tried to emulate the natural scientists of the day. I will then briefly look at how this changed philosophy.
Starting with Bacon, many of the old ideas were out. The most important of these included knowledge for its own sake. Bacon wanted fruits. He wanted theories only insofar as they could produce tangible results which benefited man in a material way.
Descartes took from science a method. He insisted that we break things into their smallest parts. He also insisted that we not accept anything as true of which we are not evidently certain. With these in mind, Descartes is thinking of geometrical deduction.
Hobbes wanted to turn politics into a legitimate science. He started by taking the first few chapters of his book and doing nothing but defining terms. Once he had defined everything necessary, he merely had to deduce the outcomes.
To be honest, I am not sure how Locke or Rousseau fit into this schema...
Hume, realizing that this scientific method based on experience could not support itself, proved that if we have nothing but experience to work with, the certain, universal, and scientific knowledge that everyone wanted was impossible.
In response to this, Kant found a way to save the sciences. He saved metaphysics by the only means possible--turning it too into a science.
As I said earlier, the reason that the moderns went in this direction was because of the unprecedented success of science. It seems to me that the character of philosophy is different post-Kant than it was pre-Bacon. The Ancients, although extremely worried about truth, had more on their minds. Plato and Aristotle were looking for the beautiful and noble life and not just certainties. As someone like Dr. Anderson might say, they were looking for wisdom and not just true propositions. My question is (and it is a serious question): Are certainties as valuable as the moderns make them seem? What can we do with absolutely certain truths, and have we found any? If we accept Bacon's general hypothesis that we should seek after fruits, what has philosophy actually produced? Other than jobs I can't think of much.
Compared to Science, philosophy is an abysmal failure at producing fruits. Looking at contemporary analytic philosophy, one sees a lot of philosopher who do little more than stand over the shoulders of scientists and check their logic. Maybe this is good, but it is philosophy of a different type. But what does this mean? The first thing this indicates is that the goal of philosophy has not been unanimously decided upon. This is most clear today when one can go to Borders and can find books by Foucault, Ayer, and Joseph Owens all headed under philosophy. Although science and philosophy both look for "truth," what this means is different in each case. The moderns have directly pointed to the question "what is philosophy?" Modern philosophy is different than ancient and contemporary philosophy, because they all have different answers to this question. This semester has helped me think about this question in new ways. Although I don't yet have an answer, those of us studying philosophy in a post-modern and pluralistic world must answer this question in a way different than a man from ancient Greece or a man from 18th century Germany did.
P.S. It seems at once evident that even if one can answer this question, it is not as clear as that. What the moderns teach us about epistemology is important whether you accept it all or not. One cannot simply choose a philosophy and ignore the rest. A follow up question to "what is philosophy?" might be "What the hell is everyone else doing and in what way is it useful?" Because, even if others are wrong, they may still be on to something. Or as someone like Hegel might say, no one is completely wrong.
Starting with Bacon, many of the old ideas were out. The most important of these included knowledge for its own sake. Bacon wanted fruits. He wanted theories only insofar as they could produce tangible results which benefited man in a material way.
Descartes took from science a method. He insisted that we break things into their smallest parts. He also insisted that we not accept anything as true of which we are not evidently certain. With these in mind, Descartes is thinking of geometrical deduction.
Hobbes wanted to turn politics into a legitimate science. He started by taking the first few chapters of his book and doing nothing but defining terms. Once he had defined everything necessary, he merely had to deduce the outcomes.
To be honest, I am not sure how Locke or Rousseau fit into this schema...
Hume, realizing that this scientific method based on experience could not support itself, proved that if we have nothing but experience to work with, the certain, universal, and scientific knowledge that everyone wanted was impossible.
In response to this, Kant found a way to save the sciences. He saved metaphysics by the only means possible--turning it too into a science.
As I said earlier, the reason that the moderns went in this direction was because of the unprecedented success of science. It seems to me that the character of philosophy is different post-Kant than it was pre-Bacon. The Ancients, although extremely worried about truth, had more on their minds. Plato and Aristotle were looking for the beautiful and noble life and not just certainties. As someone like Dr. Anderson might say, they were looking for wisdom and not just true propositions. My question is (and it is a serious question): Are certainties as valuable as the moderns make them seem? What can we do with absolutely certain truths, and have we found any? If we accept Bacon's general hypothesis that we should seek after fruits, what has philosophy actually produced? Other than jobs I can't think of much.
Compared to Science, philosophy is an abysmal failure at producing fruits. Looking at contemporary analytic philosophy, one sees a lot of philosopher who do little more than stand over the shoulders of scientists and check their logic. Maybe this is good, but it is philosophy of a different type. But what does this mean? The first thing this indicates is that the goal of philosophy has not been unanimously decided upon. This is most clear today when one can go to Borders and can find books by Foucault, Ayer, and Joseph Owens all headed under philosophy. Although science and philosophy both look for "truth," what this means is different in each case. The moderns have directly pointed to the question "what is philosophy?" Modern philosophy is different than ancient and contemporary philosophy, because they all have different answers to this question. This semester has helped me think about this question in new ways. Although I don't yet have an answer, those of us studying philosophy in a post-modern and pluralistic world must answer this question in a way different than a man from ancient Greece or a man from 18th century Germany did.
P.S. It seems at once evident that even if one can answer this question, it is not as clear as that. What the moderns teach us about epistemology is important whether you accept it all or not. One cannot simply choose a philosophy and ignore the rest. A follow up question to "what is philosophy?" might be "What the hell is everyone else doing and in what way is it useful?" Because, even if others are wrong, they may still be on to something. Or as someone like Hegel might say, no one is completely wrong.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Kant and the Brick Wall of Experience
Kant begins the B Deduction with the observation that sensibility offers us a manifold of representations, but the understanding combines these representations. This combination cannot be given in sensibility, for only intellectual intuition (which we do not have) could directly intuit the combination of objects. Thus we must have a spontaneous faculty, the understanding, which takes the manifold of sensibility and combines it into one coherent whole of experience.
I wonder about this. Is it really the case that, at the deepest level of understanding, intuitions are manifold and diverse? This is Kant’s picture, which I will call the “brick wall” picture of experience. Experience is a diverse manifold of plural experiences, each of which is a tiny brick. For Kant, the understanding is the bricklayer that builds these bricks into a coherent whole. My use of the brick metaphor is not meant to imply that Kant says experiences are capable of being broken into individual, irreducible atoms of experience (sense-data). As far as I can tell, space and time are continuous, not discrete, and thus such a picture would not work. Instead, I mean to bring attention to the fact that experience arises when smaller parts are worked up into a whole.
Is it fair to question the way Kant has set up the problem? What if, instead of a brick wall, we said that experience was a fundamentally whole lump of clay? Rather than building up a whole experience from parts, the understanding, then, is a sculptor that breaks apart the clay into different figures, that divides the given unity into different individuals. As the last sentence shows, I think many of Kant’s basic insights about the understanding would still hold. If the unity were given, the fact we can represent it as manifold would require a spontaneous act of the understanding, but one that posits differences, breaks apart, and individiuates rather than one that joins together. So something would look different, and I wonder what it would be.
I wonder about this. Is it really the case that, at the deepest level of understanding, intuitions are manifold and diverse? This is Kant’s picture, which I will call the “brick wall” picture of experience. Experience is a diverse manifold of plural experiences, each of which is a tiny brick. For Kant, the understanding is the bricklayer that builds these bricks into a coherent whole. My use of the brick metaphor is not meant to imply that Kant says experiences are capable of being broken into individual, irreducible atoms of experience (sense-data). As far as I can tell, space and time are continuous, not discrete, and thus such a picture would not work. Instead, I mean to bring attention to the fact that experience arises when smaller parts are worked up into a whole.
Is it fair to question the way Kant has set up the problem? What if, instead of a brick wall, we said that experience was a fundamentally whole lump of clay? Rather than building up a whole experience from parts, the understanding, then, is a sculptor that breaks apart the clay into different figures, that divides the given unity into different individuals. As the last sentence shows, I think many of Kant’s basic insights about the understanding would still hold. If the unity were given, the fact we can represent it as manifold would require a spontaneous act of the understanding, but one that posits differences, breaks apart, and individiuates rather than one that joins together. So something would look different, and I wonder what it would be.
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