1 Taken from Knowl from Knowledge edge and and Value: Value: Introduc Introductory tory Reading Readingss in Philoso Philosophy phy edited by Elmer Sprague and Paul W. Taylor
PHILOSOPHY
The selections in this anthology introduce the reader to certain problems (the nature of knowledge, knowledge, the nature of reality, the nature of science, science, the nature of the self, the evidence of God, the possibility of miracles, the significance of evil, the nature of human freedom, the nature of morality, the nature of beauty) which are treated by philosophers, but which are not their exclusive property. property. For the problems of philosophy may be of interest interest to anyone; they may cut across other disciplines, such as the natural and social sciences, mathematics, and history, and involve other enterprises, enterprises, such as religion, politics, politics, and art. But if these problems are not exclusive exclusive property of philosophers, philosophers, what what is it that makes them them philosophical philosophical?? Is their association association only accidental accidental?? Or are they philosophical because they share some common characteristic or because they are amenable to some common method of investigation? In short, “What is philosophy?” In considering answers to “What is philosophy?” the reader may be helped if he notices the similarity of this question to other questions he may already have considered, such as, “What is poetry?,” poetry?,” “What is art?,” “ What What is music?” music?” The answers answers to such such questions questions may be given given in at least least two ways. In the case of poetry, for example, the answer may be a description of who the poets are and what they have done, or it may be a statement of what poets ought to do. The first answer might list, for example, both Robert Frost and Edith Sitwell as poets; whereas the second answer might exclude the writings of one or the other. It would seem that the best definition of poetry might mingle these descriptive and prescriptive elements; however, anyone who seeks such a definition must ascertain if, and how, these elements are to be combined. Defining philosophy is perhaps even more difficult than defining poetry. The philosophers recognize these difficulties apparent in the answer which is sometimes given to the question “What is philosophy?”: philosophy?”: The definition of philosophy is one of the problems of philosophy. In answering answering this question we have tried to avoid some of the difficulties by offering a descriptive answer. Yet we are apologetic about what we shall say, for our answers must characterize an enterprise which in the Wester Western n worl world d has been been carr carrie ied d on by many many thous thousand andss of men men in many many diff differe erent nt circumstances for some twenty five hundred years. A short description of philosophy can only be an approximation of the truth, offered with respectful nods to both the long history of the subject and the wide range of philosophical schools in existence today. As a first approximation, approximation, we shall say that philosophy philosophy is the study of those subjects which which may be understood only by considering the ways in which they are talked about. In this anthology, the consideration of such subjects as knowledge, reality, the self, God, human freedom, morality and beauty illustrates this definition of philosophy. When we say that one understands these subjects by considering the ways in which they are talked about, we are not saying that philosophy is about nothing but words, but rather that philosophical subjects have their life in our language (in our speaking and writing to one another), another), and that finding out how these subjects subjects are talked about (or are to be talked about) is the way to discover their natures. Writings that we count as philosophical philosophical will usually usually turn out to be either (1) the investigation investigation of the meaning of some old term, or the proposal of some new term, in order to advance some area of philosophical enquiry,
2 (2) the criticism of the use of some term, or (3) some combination of these activities. Philosophical understanding, then, turns not on making some discovery in the world, but on deciding how to talk. Other subjects besides those noticed by philosophers share the characteristic of being understandable only through noticing how they are talked about. Here are two simple non philosophical illustrations. Take our use of the word “meal” as a collective name for the food which is eaten at a given time. Suppose we say to someone who has eaten servings of roast beef, potatoes, oven-browned carrots, sliced tomatoes, and an apple pie, “You have eaten a good meal,” and he replies, “Well, I ate roast beef and potatoes (and so on through the list), but I didn’t eat a meal.” Clearly we cannot show such a person some thing to set him straight about what a meal is. What we must do is teach him how to use the word “meal”: eating a meal is eating food in just the way that he has been eating it. Meal is a subject which is to be understood only by learning how to talk about it. The second example is drawn from our notions of “penny” and “cent”. Suppose that someone asks you to explain what a penny is in the coinage of the United States of America. The easiest thing to do would be to show him one of the coins we call a penny, or failing that, to show him a picture. Suppose next that he asks you to explain what a cent is. You might say that a cent is a penny. Then is “cent” another name for a penny? Yes; but then, no. A penny is one cent, but “cent” means more than “penny.” Using United States coins, you can certainly give someone one cent by giving him a penny; but you can also give him a cent by giving him a nickel and receiving four pennies in change. To understand “cent,” then, one must understand the uses of pieces of United States money; but cent is not itself a piece of money. As a unit of money value, it has its life in our use of money; and we explain the meaning of “cent” to someone by explaining to him how to talk about the relative values of pieces of United States money, as he uses them. “Meal” and “cent,” then, are both examples of subjects which have this characteristic in common with philosophical subjects: we find out about them by learning how to talk about them. They also share another characteristic with philosophical subjects. They are useful in organizing our experience of the world. At the simplest level, consider our example of a meal. A man might consume vast quantities of beef and potatoes and never know the word “meal,” and neither his appetite nor his capacity need suffer. But once he has the notion of a meal, he may refer to what he has eaten without having to recite a menu. Or consider the notion of a cent. A person may have a pocketful of coins, but unless he knows their relative values based on the notion of cent, he is an innocent in the marketplace. Once he has grasped the uses of “cent,” though, his thought about the coins is organized, and the possibilities of buying and selling open before him. Now something must be said of the way philosophical subjects differ from subjects like “meal” and “cent.” There are two large differences. The first is the fundamental importance of philosophical subjects to a reflective person: the matters about which he believes that it is possible to have knowledge, the things which he counts as real, and the acts which he regards as good are among the crucial and pervasive considerations that shape his life. The second large difference between “meal” and “cent” and philosophical subjects is to be found in the general agreement about what a meal and a cent are and the lack of any such general agreement about how a given philosophical subject is to be defined. Knowledge, reality, and
3 goodness, for example, can be and have been characterized in many different and sometimes incompatible ways. This elasticity of characterization, far exceeding that of “meal” and “cent”, is a necessary property of philosophical subjects. Of course, ultimately, one characterization of a given philosophical subject might come to prevail—agreement among philosophers is conceivable. But in the history of philosophy it has certainly not been achieved. It follows that in an anthology of this kind, the reader must not expect one answer to such questions as “What is knowledge?,” “What is reality?,” and “Is there a God?” Although a given philosopher may offer only one answer, philosophy, viewed as a collective though not necessarily cooperative enterprise, offers many answers. One man’s having produced, say, an analysis of reality or of moral good, in no way precludes another man from developing his own thoughts on these topics, just as Jane Austen’s novels did not render Dickens’ unnecessary, and Mozart’s symphonies did not foreclose the possibility of Tschaikowsky’s writing his. Of course philosophers may share viewpoints and methods, and when there is agreement, a given philosopher may accept the work of others without feeling a need to redo it, even though he may still feel a need to put his own stamp on it. But we do not mean to say that all philosophy is beyond the reach of rational examination, and it is to this topic that we must now turn. The first task in reading philosophy is to get clear what the author is saying—to follow his directions for talking about a subject which can only be known by learning how to talk of it. The reader’s second task is to evaluate what the philosopher has said. How is this evaluation to be carried out? An old rule states that we should ask of every piece of philosophy: is it consistent with the world? And, is it consistent with itself? The value of these rules can only be learned in practice, and readers who are studying philosophy with a teacher will have the advantage of his example to guide them. The following three incidents from the life of Plato’s contemporary, Diogenes, illustrate how philosophy may be evaluated by questioning its consistency with the world . For example, Diogenes “replied to one who had been asserting that there was no such thing as motion, by getting up and walking away.”1 In another situation, Diogenes criticized Plato: Plato defined man thus: “Man is a two-footed, featherless animal,” and was much praised for the definition; so Diogenes plucked a cock and brought it into his school, and said “This is Plato’s man.” On which account this addition was made to the definition, “With broad flat nails.” 2
The last sentence shows that the charge of inconsistency with the world is not a fatal criticism, since the philosopher is able to amend his directions for talking about something. In this final example, Diogenes charged that Plato talked of things which do not exist. When Plato was discoursing about his “ideas,” and using the nouns “tableness” and “cupness”; “I, O Plato!” interrupted Diogenes, “see a table and a cup, 1
“Diogenes Laertius,” The Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers, trans., C.D. Yonge, George Bell and Sons, London, 1895, p. 231. 2 Ibid.
4 but I see no tableness or cupness.” Plato made answer, “That is natural enough, for you have eyes, by which a cup and a table are contemplated; but you have not intellect, by which tableness and cupness are seen.” 3
The issue between Diogenes and Plato might be put in the following way: Diogenes is saying that the world contains only what he can see, and he can see only cups. Plato is saying that if there are cups there must also be cupness. Diogenes and Plato espouse competing worlds, and Plato’s includes more items than Diogenes.’ The examination of a philosophy by considering its consistency with itself is a process capable of several variations, of which the following are some of the more important. At the very simplest one may consider whether what a philosopher says on one page is consistent with what he says on any other page. A slightly more sophisticated activity is to consider whether he uses any of his terms ambiguously, and if he does, whether the ambiguity permits him to draw conclusions which a straightforward use of the terms would rule out. Do his statements have implications which he does not follow out, but which, when they are brought into the open, contradict his previously stated views? An example of testing a philosophy for consistency with itself is Socrates’ examination of Euthyphro’s definitions of “piety,” which appears as the first selection in this book under the heading “A Philosopher at Work.” While each philosopher, at least at first acquaintance, must be credited with trying to speak sensibly about philosophical subjects and trying to be consistent with both the world and himself, philosophy itself is a chorus of many voices saying many different things. We have tried to show why this is so; and thus we have tried to arm our readers against those first and fatal reactions to philosophy wherein it is regarded as a meaningless game, or an idle pastime, or at worst the manufacture of nonsense. No one who understands the place of organizing concepts in the life of a reflective person can fail to appreciate the importance of philosophy, the enterprise of proposing, analyzing and criticizing those concepts. Philosophical thinking is a lifetime activity. The problems it deals with are so complex and far-reaching that no final, universally acceptable solutions have yet been found. The only thing we can do is to carry on our philosophical thinking as clearly and as carefully as possible, hoping that we may advance a little toward more enlightened points of view. Meanwhile, we must live our practical lives. How can this be done in a rational way if we cannot arrive at final conclusions concerning a true world view and philosophy of life? We can only live according to tentative conclusions, re-examining them as our philosophical thinking develops. Such a life has been called “the life of reason.” To live this kind of life is to live as a thinking being.
3
Ibid., p.236.
