Is Socrates free? The Theaetetus as case study

Most scholars agree that Plato’s concept of freedom, to the extent he has one, is ‘intellectualist’: true freedom is submission to the rule of reason through philosophical knowledge of rational order. Surprisingly, though, there are few explicit linkages of philosophy and freedom in Plato. Socrates is called many things in the dialogues, but not ‘free’. I aim to understand why by studying the Theaetetus, heretofore ignored in discussions of Platonic freedom. By examining the Digression (172c-177c) and Socrates’ ‘dream’ about wholes and parts (201c-206c), I show that describing freedom as ‘rule of reason’ simplifies what, for Plato, is a more tangled skein. In the Digression, philosophers are free in occupying a comprehensive standpoint transcending all limited and partial perspectives. Socrates’ dream, however, shows that logos cannot completely account for the knowledge of complex wholes or for itself as such a whole. Philosophical freedom cannot mean comprehensive discursive knowledge, then, since reason lacks a comprehensive grasp of itself. Socrates dreams of the rational whole, but is aware of why it remains only a dream, rather than wakeful knowledge. This awareness constitutes a freedom attained, not in total liberation from the confines of the partial human perspective, but within those confines.     

Plotinus on the Inner Sense

Recently, there has been a growing interest in ancient views on consciousness and particularly in their influence on medieval and early modern philosophers. Here I suggest a new interpretation of Plotinus’s account of consciousness which, if correct, may help us to reconsider his role in the history of the notion of the inner sense. I argue that, while explaining how our divided soul can be a unitary subject of the states and activities of its parts, Plotinus develops an original account of consciousness that appeals to an inner sense. In contrast to ‘the outer senses’, which perceive sensible things out there in the world, this sense, for him, perceives the activities of the parts of our soul, thus enabling us to be conscious of them as a single subject. I suggest that Plotinus devises his account of this psychic power in the light of Alexander of Aphrodisias’s interpretation of the Aristotelian ‘common sense’. Since in Alexander the ‘common sense’ enables us to be conscious as a single subject of sensations from different modalities, Plotinus uses it as a model to explain how we can be the conscious subject of all the states and activities of our soul.     

Returning to experience – Dewey’s second mission to China

ABSTRACT

In this essay, as a philosophical exercise in exploring some of the underlying assumptions that serve as an interpretive context for classical Chinese philosophy, I will first follow Dewey’s philosophical turn from a ‘knowledge paradigm’ to an ‘experience paradigm’ in which he seeks to overcome the dualism between subject and object. Secondly, I will interpret Dewey’s Darwinian challenge to the notions of Aristotelian ‘species’ (eidos) and ‘teleology’ (telos) and their ‘universality.’ In so doing, Dewey sought to restore time, change, relationality, and particularity to our philosophical agenda, ideas that are all recommended by the cosmology of the first among the Chinese philosophical canons, the Book of Changes (Yijing易经). And finally, I will try to offer an interpretation of traditional Chinese philosophy as a science in a Deweyan sense.     

Plotinus: towards an ontology of likeness (On the One and Nous)

Plotinus’ thesis of the relationship between the One and Nous (Intellect) is central to his thought. In dealing with this relationship, he concentrates far more on what makes the One and Nous alike than on what makes them different. This is because by preference he envisages the One as the ‘causal principle () of everything’, in what might be termed a ‘top‐down’ model of metaphysics in which first cause (the One) leads downwards to second cause (Nous). Plotinus is obliged to present the distinction between the One and Nous as relative, not as absolute, precisely because he wants to show that Nous is firmly grounded in the One. The One differs from Nous to no more than the degree, and in no more than the manner, that are necessary for there to be created a Nous which is as like as possible to the One Itself.     

ACKNOWLEDGING A HIDDEN GOD: A THEOLOGICAL CRITIQUE OF STANLEY CAVELL ON SCEPTICISM

In his early work, the philosopher Stanley Cavell offers a sustained engagement with the threat of epistemological scepticism, shaped by the intuition that although (as the late Wittgenstein shows) ordinary language use is the practice within which alone meaning is possible (and which can thus not be further analysed or rationalised), it is also a basic human inclination to wish to escape the limitations of the ‘ordinary’. This, for Cavell, is the root of scepticism. Scepticism, on this view, thus appears not primarily as an epistemological but as an (injurious) moral stance, which cannot be refuted but must be continually confronted and overcome. Vis‐à‐vis scepticism, ‘acknowledgement’ is the practice‐based recognition of the world and other people in their continuing elusiveness, which ineluctably involves risk, but just so is the only way of knowing that is appropriate to and honours the (finite) human condition. One problematic aspect of this (very fertile) approach is that Cavell's secular viewpoint makes it difficult for him to say both why the desire for a ‘beyond’ arises in the first place, and why its expression as denial is morally wrong (rather than merely misguided). His approach thus invites a theological ‘supplementation’ which grounds the human condition in an original and real relation to God that is meant to draw the believer, through Christ, into the divine life itself. Such a reinterpretation both elucidates the concepts of scepticism and acknowledgement, and makes these concepts available for a theological outlook that is able to accommodate Cavell's profound insights into ‘the human’.     

Cartesian Method and the Aristotelian-Scholastic Method

In book one of the Consolation of Philosophy, Boethius is portrayed as a man who suffers because he forgot philosophy. Scholars have underestimated the significance of this portrayal and considered it a literary device the goal of which is simply to introduce the discussion that follows. In this paper, I show that this view is mistaken since it overlooks that this portrayal of Boethius is the key for the understanding of the whole text. The philosophical therapy that constitutes the core of the ‘Consolation’ can in fact be properly evaluated only if we recognize the condition it is designed to cure. Through the portrayal of Boethius's forgetfulness, the ‘Consolation’ illustrates that it is the very nature of philosophical knowledge that makes it susceptible to being forgotten. Philosophical knowledge can (i) turn into misology, when it appears unable to solve certain problems, and (ii) be overrun by strong emotions. The therapy offered in the ‘Consolation’ is designed to make Boethius aware of the ‘fragility’ of philosophical knowledge and show him how to ‘strengthen’ it. He is taught how to more fully embody philosophy's precepts and that philosophy's inability to solve certain problems reveals not its failures but its limits.     

Patrides,Plotinus and the Cambridge Platonists

ABSTRACT

Discussion of the Cambridge Platonists, by Constantinos Patrides and others, is often vitiated by the mistaken contrasts drawn between those philosophers and late antique Platonists such as Plotinus. I draw attention especially to Patrides’s errors, and argue in particular that Plotinus and his immediate followers were as concerned about this world and our immediate duties to our neighbours as the Cambridge Platonists. Even the doctrine of deification is one shared by all Platonists, though it is also here that genuine differences between pre-Christian and Christian exegesis can be found. All, it can be said, hope and expect to join ‘the dance of immortal love’, but Christian Platonists had a deeper sense of God’s ‘humility’ in His Word’s material and temporal manifestation. Not Olympian Zeus but the Crucified Christ was their preferred image of divine involvement, and their better guide to heaven.     

The philosopher and the Fly Bottle

Wittgenstein said that what he does in philosophy is ‘to show the fly out of the fly bottle’ (Philosophical Investigations¶309). He is, himself, both the fly, his alter-ego, and the philosopher who turns the fly around. This is a transformation in his vision of and perspective on those matters which tempted him, through the questions it posed for him, into the bottle, there to be trapped – trapped into a form of scepticism, realism, or one of its many reductionist satellites, for instance. The transformation which releases him into the open takes philosophical work which unearths unspoken assumptions and subjects them to criticism. As for the movement into and out of the bottle, this is the philosophical journey in the course of which the philosopher comes to a new understanding of the matters he questioned in a way that led him into the bottle. To come to such a better understanding, therefore, the philosopher has to have the courage of his temptations and not be afraid to give up what he holds on to. What he learns in coming out of the bottle belongs to the work that frees him from the compelling pictures that held him captive within the space of opposed theories held together by common assumptions. It cannot be acquired or conveyed independently of such work. It is in this sense that philosophy is a struggle with difficulties which each philosopher has to face and work through himself. The difficulties are not in him, but they are his– they are difficulties for him. He has to work on them. That is why, while he can learn from others, he cannot borrow from them, build on or go on from what they have established. In the first section of the paper I put on some flesh on this. But what I provide is still a thumb-nail sketch. The question ‘what is philosophy?’ is itself a philosophical question, like any other, and can only be ‘answered’ like them. It is only that with which we are familiar – in our mastery of the language we speak or in our experience of life –that can raise philosophical questions for us. Thus contrast ‘what is knowledge?’, ‘what is thinking?’ with ‘what is cancer?’, ‘what is osmosis?’. The question ‘what is philosophy?’ similarly can only be asked by a philosopher, someone who has asked and struggled with its questions. Otherwise it is a request for information to which the full answer is: you have to study philosophy if you really want to find out. It follows that what I say about the way philosophical questions are to be answered applies equally to the question about the nature of philosophy. Hence I can do no other than provide a thumb-nail sketch for those who have themselves struggled with philosophical questions. As for what I provide in the following three sections, they are no more than illustrations of a way of working on those sample questions – questions on which hopefully the reader will have thought himself. I am able to offer such illustrations only because I have myself been caught up by these questions and have worked on them and discussed them more fully elsewhere (see Bibliography).     

Plotinus on Divine Simplicity

Gavrilyuk attends to divine simplicity according to the third‐century AD pagan philosopher Plotinus. He shows that Plotinus draws his doctrine of divine simplicity from the earlier Greco‐Roman philosophical tradition, in which the nature of the “first principle” was highly contested. Aristotle offers a history of the early debate, with Anaxagoras being the first to glimpse the first principle’s simplicity. The Platonist philosophers conceived of the first principle as incorporeal, and on these grounds linked the first principle to simplicity. For his part, Aristotle associated simplicity with the absoluteness of pure actuality. The Stoics, with their essentially material understanding of the divine, ignored or denied divine simplicity. Plotinus draws upon the reception of Aristotle that is found in Alexander of Aphrodisias, Numenius, and Ammonius. According to Gavrilyuk, the signal contribution of Plotinus consists in setting forth the strongest possible doctrine of divine simplicity. Indeed, for Plotinus God’s utter simplicity means that God cannot even be thought, because thinking requires the duality of subject‐object. Plotinus conceives of the divine One as above divine Mind (nous), since the latter contains a unified plurality but not the perfect simplicity that marks the unknowable One. Gavilyuk ends his essay with an account of the qualifications made to divine simplicity by philosophers and theologians who are less radical in their doctrine than is Plotinus. He emphasizes that the Enneads’s key metaphysical insight, utterly ruling out any kind of composition from the One, has the benefit of being supremely intellectually coherent and elegant.     

‘No statues’

One thing nearly all epistemologists agree upon is that Gettier cases are decisive counterexamples to the tripartite analysis of knowledge; whatever else is true of knowledge, it is not merely belief that is both justified and true. They now agree that knowledge is not justified true belief because this is consistent with there being too much luck present in the cases, and that knowledge excludes such luck. This is to endorse what has become known as the ‘anti-luck platitude’.

But what if generations of philosophers have been mistaken about this, blinded at least partially by a deeply entrenched professional bias? There has been another, albeit minority, response to Gettier: to deny that the cases are counterexamples at all.

Stephen Hetherington, a principal and vocal proponent of this view, advances what he calls the ‘Knowing Luckily Proposal’. If Hetherington is correct, this would call for a major re-evaluation and re-orientation of post-Gettier analytic epistemology, since much of it assumes the anti-luck platitude both in elucidating the concept of knowledge, and in the application of such accounts to central philosophical problems. It is therefore imperative that the Knowing Luckily Proposal be considered and evaluated in detail.

In this paper I critically assess the Knowing Luckily Proposal. I argue that while it draws our attention to certain important features of knowledge, ultimately it fails, and the anti-luck platitude emerges unscathed. Whatever else is true of knowledge, therefore, it is non-lucky true belief. For a proposition to count as knowledge, we cannot arrive at its truth accidentally or for the wrong reason.     

Demythologizing intuition

Max Deutsch’s new book argues against the commonly held ‘myth’ that philosophical methodology characteristically employs intuitions as evidence. While I am sympathetic to the general claim that philosophical methodology has been grossly oversimplified in the intuition literature, the particular claim that it is a myth that philosophers rely on intuitions as evidence is open to several very different interpretations. The plausibility and consequences of a rejection of the ‘myth’ will depend on the notion of evidence one employs, the notion of intuition one holds, and how one understands the idea of ‘relying on’ or ‘employing’ something as evidence. I describe what I take to be the version of The Myth which is most plausibly undermined by Deutsch’s arguments; however, I also argue that the falsity of this myth has only minimal consequences for the viability of the experimental philosophy research project.     

The Fear of Death

Taking a somewhat indirect route that includes some autobiographical reflection, I address three questions. One is what it might mean to say, with Socrates, that philosophy is "studying for death". The second is why Christians should fear death at all, if the good of Heaven is really what they believe is beyond it. The third is the question what difference it makes to your philosophical view of death if you are a believer.     

Blending Arendtian Exemplarity with Weberian Ideal-Typic Analysis: Arendt’s ‘Socrates’ as a Vehicle for Social Critique

Arendt uses the exemplary validity of Socrates to think and value the possibilities of joint philosophical and political orientations in our present juncture. In this way Arendt’s ‘Socrates’ is not a mythic, historic, or dramatic individual, but offers an example of the best of the human condition. Unfortunately, because Arendt held the social conditioning and constraining of Socrates’ possibilities at arm’s length, his status as an exemplar is problematic and he ends up referring to a historical rather than contemporary possibilities. While Arendt had resources in her notion of the ‘world’ to better ground her simultaneously analytic and normative construction of ‘Socrates’, the lack of a social grounding makes ‘Socrates’ a significantly unmoored and shifting signifier. After showing the vacillations of ‘Socrates’ in Arendt, I supplement her normatively laden account with a Weberian grounding. With this firmer social grounding, ‘Socrates’ can refer to the possibilities of joint philosophical and political orientations in ancient Athens and thereby highlight how our world makes a contemporary version unlikely or impossible. Yet, this Weberian grounding comes at a cost. The normative dimension essential in Arendt’s ‘Socrates’ is lost due to Weberian value-neutrality. ‘Socrates’ can name a contemporary unlikelihood or impossibility, but if the enveloping social order does not value what it renders impossible, Weberian ideal-types on their own are incapable of offering normative resources for critique. I conclude by blending a Weberian social mooring with Arendt’s value-laden framework for social analysis and thereby recuperate the missing normative dimension. In short, by accepting the relational, necessarily plural, and dynamic root of human action we can, much like Arendt’s intended use of ‘Socrates’, value orientations that best express these norms, and criticize contemporary conditions that constrain their realization.     

Aristotle on Pleasure and the Worst Form of Akrasia

The focus of this paper is Aristotle's solution to the problem inherited from Socrates: How could a man fail to restrain himself when he believes that what he desires is wrong? In NE 7 Aristotle attempts to reconcile the Socratic denial of akrasia with the commonly held opinion that people act in ways they know to be bad, even when it is in their power to act otherwise. This project turns out to be largely successful, for what Aristotle shows us is that if we distinguish between two ways of having knowledge (‘potentially’ and ‘actually’), the Socratic thesis can effectively account for a wide range of cases (collectively referred to here as ‘drunk-akrasia’) in which an agent acts contrary to his general knowledge of the Good, yet can still be said to ‘know’ in the qualified sense that his actions are wrong. However, Book 7 also shows that the Socratic account of akrasia cannot take us any farther than drunk-akrasia, for unlike drunk-akrasia, genuine akrasia cannot be reduced to a failure of knowledge. This agent knows in the unqualified sense that his actions are wrong. The starting-point of my argument is that Aristotle's explanation of genuine akrasia requires a different solution than the one found in NE 7 which relies on the distinction between qualified and unqualified ‘knowing’: genuinely akratic behaviour is due to the absence of an internal conflict that a desire for the ‘proper’ pleasures of temperance would create if he could experience them.     

Ramseyan Humility, scepticism and grasp

In ‘Ramseyan Humility’ David Lewis argues that a particular view about fundamental properties, quidditism, leads to the position that we are irredeemably ignorant of the identities of fundamental properties. We are ignorant of the identities of fundamental properties since we can never know which properties play which causal roles, and we have no other way of identifying fundamental properties other than by the causal roles they play. It has been suggested in the philosophical literature that Lewis’ argument for Humility is merely an instance of traditional scepticism, to which traditional responses to scepticism are applicable. I agree that in ‘Ramseyan Humility’ Lewis does present an argument to which it is appropriate to consider the applicability of responses to traditional scepticism—he argues that we irredeemably lack the evidence to rule out possibilities in which different properties occupy the causal roles described by our best physical theory. And prima facie this is just the kind of argument responses to traditional scepticism are designed to tackle. However, I will argue that Lewis bolsters this argument with a second. This second argument serves to deepen Lewis’ case and cannot be met with a response to traditional scepticism. For Lewis argues that not only do we lack evidence for which properties play which roles, we lack the ability to grasp any such proposition about role-occupancy. And if we cannot grasp any such proposition we cannot know it.     

Relying on Intuitions: Where Cappelen and Deutsch Go Wrong

Abstract

In Philosophy without Intuitions (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), Herman Cappelen challenges the ‘almost universally accepted’ thesis of ‘Centrality’: ‘philosophers rely on intuitions as evidence (or as a source of evidence) for philosophical theories’. Cappelen takes there to be two arguments for Centrality and rejects both. According to the first, Centrality is supported by the way philosophers characterize key premises in their arguments as ‘intuitive’. Central to Cappelen’s rejection of this is his lengthy argument that philosophers’ ‘intuition’-talk is very hard to interpret, indeed often ‘meaningless’. I argue, in contrast, that this talk is easy to interpret. The great mass of philosophers who would endorse Centrality mean by ‘intuition’ just what it ordinarily means: ‘immediate judgment, without reasoning or inference’. Cappelen claims further that philosophers’ ‘intuition’-talk, however it is interpreted, does not support Centrality. I argue that this talk, interpreted in the ordinary way, does indeed support Centrality. According to the second argument, Centrality is supported by the very practice of philosophy. Cappelen rejects this with a thorough examination of several philosophical arguments. Deutsch has attacked Centrality similarly, in effect, with a thorough examination of one famous argument from Kripke. How are we to tell whether philosophical practice relies on intuitions? Cappelen, and Deutsch to some extent, answer by looking to the opinions of intuition-theorists about the nature of intuitions. This approach is quite mistaken. Rather, we should look to our ordinary ability to recognize intuitions. Adopting this approach, and discussing Deutsch’s Kripke example in most detail, I argue that Centrality gets support from all of these examples of philosophical practice.     

The Relevance of Fink’s Notion of Operative Concepts for Derrida’s Deconstruction

In the literature on Derrida’s philosophical formation, the name of Eugen Fink is usually forgotten. When it is recalled, it is most often because of his 1930s articles on phenomenology. In this paper, I claim on the contrary that Fink’s writings exerted a lasting influence on Derrida’s thought, well beyond his early phenomenological works. More specifically, I focus on a 1957 paper presented at a conference on Husserl’s thought where Fink formulates an important distinction between operative and thematic concepts. By adopting both historical and theoretical perspectives, I show how this couple of notions can help to understand Derrida’s singular way of reading philosophical texts. In particular, I present the Derridean concept of supplement as a reworking of Fink’s notion of operative concept. I conclude by suggesting that deconstruction can be understood in part as a radicalization of Fink’s theses.     

Armchair methodology and epistemological naturalism

In traditional armchair methodology, philosophers attempt to challenge a thesis of the form ‘F iff G’ or ‘F only if G’ by describing a scenario that elicits the intuition that what has been described is an F that isn’t G. If they succeed, then the judgment that there is, or could be, an F that is not G counts as good prima facie evidence against the target thesis. Moreover, if these intuitions remain compelling after further (good faith) reflection, then traditional armchair methodology takes the judgment to be serious (though not infallible) evidence against the target thesis—call it secunda facie evidence—that should not be discounted as long as those intuitions retain their force. Some philosophers, however, suggest that this methodology is incompatible with epistemological naturalism, the view that philosophical inquiry should be sensitive to empirical observations, and argue that traditional armchair methodology must deemphasize the role of intuitions in philosophical inquiry. In my view, however, this would be a mistake: as I will argue, the most effective way to promote philosophical progress is to treat intuitions as having the (prima and secunda) evidential status I’ve described. But I will also argue that philosophical inquiry can produce a theory that is sensitive to empirical observations and the growth of empirical knowledge, even if it gives intuitions the prima- and secunda-facie evidential status that traditional armchair methodology demands—and thus that traditional armchair methodology, if properly practiced, need not be abandoned by naturalists, or even (except for a few exceptions) be much revised.