News, Views and Careers for All of Higher Education
June 7, 2006
The hurried patron spying Why Truth Matters (Continuum) on the new arrivals shelf of a library may assume that it is yet another denunciation of the Republicans. New books defending the “reality-based community” are already thick on the ground – and the publishers’ fall catalogs swarm with fresh contributions to the cause. Last month, at BookExpo America (the annual trade show for the publishing industry), I saw an especially economical new contribution to the genre: a volume attributed to G.W. Bush under the title Whoops, I Was Wrong. The pages were completely blank.
Such books change nobody’s mind, of course. The market for them is purely a function of how much enthusiasm the choir feels for the sermon being addressed to it. As it turns out, Why Truth Matters has nothing to do with the G.O.P., and everything to do with what is sometimes called the postmodern academic left -– home to cross dressing Nietzschean dupes to the Sokal hoax.
Or so one gathers from the muttering of various shell-shocked Culture Warriors. Like screeds against the neocons, the diatribes contra pomo now tend to be light on data, and heavy on the indignation. (The choir does love indignation.)
Fortunately, Why Truth Matters by Ophelia Benson and Jeremy Stangroom, is something different. As polemics go, it is short and adequately pugnacious. Yet the authors do not paint their target with too broad a brush. At heart, they are old-fashioned logical empiricists -– or, perhaps, followers of Samuel Johnson, who, upon hearing of Bishop Berkeley’s contention that the objective world does not exist, refuted the argument by kicking a rock. Still, Benson and Stangroom do recognize that there are numerous varieties of contemporary suspicion regarding the concept of truth.
They bend over backwards in search of every plausible good intention behind postmodern epistemic skepticism. And then they kick the rock.
The authors run a Web site of news and commentary, Butterflies and Wheels. And both are editors of The Philosophers’ Magazine,a quarterly journal. In the spirit of full disclosure, it bears mentioning that I write a column for the latter publication.
A fact in no way disposing me, however, to overlook a striking gap in the book’s otherwise excellent index: The lack of any entry for “truth, definition of.” Contacting Ophelia Benson recently for an e-mail interview, that seemed like the place to start.
Q: What is truth? Is there more than one kind? If not, why not?
A: I’ll just refer you to jesting Pilate, and let it go at that!
Q: Well, the gripe about jesting Pilate is that “he would not stay for the answer.” Whereas I am actually going to stick around and press the point. Your book pays tribute to the human capacity for finding truth, and warns against cultural forces tending to undermine or destroy it. So what’s the bottom-line criterion you have in mind for defining truth?
A: It all depends, as pedants always say, on what you mean by “truth.” Sure, in a sense, there is more than one kind. There is emotional truth, for instance, which is ungainsayable and rather pointless to dispute. It is also possible and not necessarily silly to talk about somewhat fuzzy-bordered kinds such as literary truth, aesthetic truth, the truth of experience, and the like.
The kind of truth we are concerned with in the book is the fairly workaday, empirical variety that is (or should be) the goal of academic disciplines such as history and the sciences. We are concerned with pretty routine sorts of factual claim that can be either supported or rejected on the basis of evidence, and with arguments that cast doubt on that very way of proceeding.
Q: Is anybody really making a serious dent in this notion of truth? You hear all the time that the universities are full of postmodernists who think that scientific knowledge is just a Eurocentric fad, and therefore people could flap their wings and fly to the moon if they wanted. And yet you never actually see anyone doing that. At least I haven’t, and I go to MLA every year.
A: Of course, there is no shortage of wild claims about what people get up to in universities. Such things make good column fodder, good talk show fodder, good gossip fodder, not to mention another round of the ever-popular game of “Who’s Most Anti-Intellectual?” But there are people making some serious dents in this notion of truth and of scientific knowledge, yes. That’s essentially the subject matter of Why Truth Matters: the specifics of what claims are being made, in what disciplines, using what arguments.
There are people who argue seriously that, as Sandra Harding puts it, the idea that scientific “knowers” are in principle interchangeable means that “white, Western, economically privileged, heterosexual men can produce knowledge at least as good as anyone else can” and that this appears to be an antidemocratic consequence. Harding’s books are still, despite much criticism, widely assigned. There are social constructionists in sociology and philosophy of science who view social context as fully explanatory of the formation of scientific belief and knowledge, while excluding the role of evidence.
There are Afrocentric historians who make factual claims that contradict existing historical evidence, such as the claim that Aristotle stole his philosophy from the library at Alexandria when, as Mary Lefkowitz points out, that library was not built until after Aristotle’s death. Lefkowitz was shocked to get no support from her colleagues when she pointed out factual errors of this kind, and even more shocked when the dean of her college (Wellesley) told her that “each of us had a different but equally valid view of history.” And so on (there’s a lot of the “so on” in the book).
That sort of thing of course filters out into the rest of the world, not surprisingly: People go to university and emerge having picked up the kind of thought Lefkowitz’s dean had picked up; such thoughts get into newspaper columns and magazine articles; and the rest of us munch them down with our cornflakes.
We don’t quite think we could fly to the moon if we tried hard enough, but we may well think there’s something a bit sinister and elitist about scientific knowledge, we may well think that oppressed and marginalized groups should be allowed their own “equally valid” view of history by way of compensation, we may well think “there’s no such thing as truth, really.”
Q: Your book describes and responds to a considerable range of forms of thought: old fashioned Pyrronic skepticism, “standpoint” epistemology, sociology of knowledge, neopragmatism, pomo, etc. Presumably not all questions about the possibility of a bedrock notion of truth are created equal. What kinds have a strong claim to serious consideration?
A: Actually, much of the range of thought we look at doesn’t necessarily ask meta-questions about truth. A lot of it is more like second level or borrowed skepticism or relativism about truth, not argued so much as referenced, or simply assumed; waved at rather than defended. The truth relativism is not itself the point, it’s rather a tool for the purpose of making truth-claims that are not supported by evidence or that contradict the evidence. Skepticism and relativism about truth in this context function as a kind of veil or smokescreen to obscure the way ideology shapes the truth-claims that are being made.
As a result much of the activity on the subject takes place on this more humdrum quotidian level, in between metaquestions and bedrock notions of truth, where one can ask if this map is accurate or not, if this bus schedule tells us where and when the bus really does go, if this history text contains falsifications or not, if the charges against this scholar or that tobacco company are based on sound evidence or not.
Meta-questions about truth of course do have a strong claim to serious consideration. Maybe we are brains in vats; maybe we all are, without realizing it, Keanu Reeves; there is no way to establish with certainty that we’re not; thus questions on the subject do have a claim to consideration, however unresolvable they are. (At the same time, however unresolvable they are, it is noticeable that on the mundane level of this particular possible world, no one really does take them seriously; no one really does seriously doubt that fire burns or that axes chop.)
Intermediate level questions can also be serious, searching, and worth exploring. Standpoint epistemology is reasonable enough in fields where standpoints are part of the subject matter: histories of experience, of subjective views and mentalities, of oppression, for example, surely need at least to consider the subjective stance of the inquirer. Sociology of knowledge is an essential tool of inquiry into the way interests and institutions can shape research programs and findings, provided it doesn’t, as a matter of principle, exclude the causative role of evidence. In short there are, to borrow a distinction of Susan Haack’s, sober and inebriated versions of questions about the possibility of truth.
Q: Arguably even the most extremist forms of skepticism can have some beneficial effects — if only indirectly, by raising the bar for what counts as a true or valid statement. (That’s one thumbnail version of intellectual history, anyway: no Sextus Empiricus would mean no Descartes.) Is there any sense in which “epistemic relativism” might have some positive effect, after all?
A: Oh, sure. In fact I think it would be extremely hard to argue the opposite. And the ways in which it could have positive effects seem obvious enough. There’s Mill’s point about the need for contrary arguments in order to know the grounds of one’s own views, for one. Our most warranted beliefs, as he says, have no safeguard to rest on other than a standing invitation to everyone to refute them.
If we know only our own side of the case, we don’t know much. Matt Ridley made a related point in a comment on the Kitzmiller Intelligent Design trial for Butterflies and Wheels: “My concern ... is about scientific consensus. In this case I find it absolutely right that the overwhelming nature of the consensus should count against creationism. But there have been plenty of other times when I have been on the other side of the argument and seen what Madison called the despotism of the majority as a bad argument.... I agree with the scientific consensus sometimes but not always, but I do not do so because it is is a consensus. Science does not work that way or Newton, Harvey, Darwin and Wegener would all have been voted into oblivion.”
Another way epistemic relativism may be of value is that it is one source (one of many) of insight into what it is that some people dislike and distrust about science and reason. In a way it’s a silly argument to say that science is elitist or undemocratic, since it is of course the paradigmatic case of the career open to talent. But in another way it isn’t silly at all, because as Michael Young pointed out in the ’50s, meritocracy has some harsh side-effects, such as erosion of the sense of self-worth of the putative less talented. Epistemic relativism may function partly as a reminder of that.
The arguments of epistemic relativism may be unconvincing, but some of the unhappiness that prompts the arguments may be more worth taking seriously. However one then has to weigh those effects against the effects of pervasive suspicion of science and reason, and one grows pale with fear. At a time when there are so many theocrats and refugees from the reality-based community on the loose, epistemic relativism doesn’t seem to need more encouragement than it already has.
Want it on paper? Print this page.
Know someone who’d be interested? Forward this story.
Want to stay informed? Sign up for free daily news e-mail.
Advertisement
These kinds of discussions sound so hard headed when they start, but Ophelia never did really answer that first question of yours, Scott.
And if there are “sober and inebriated versions of questions about the possibility of truth” that just sounds like a new metaphor for an old distinction. Who decides if I’m drunk or not? I’d like to see Ophelia’s BAC meter.
tje, at 9:50 am EDT on June 7, 2006
“...maybe we all are, without realizing it, Keanu Reeves...”
Woah.
Charles Hackney, Psychology Professor at Redeemer University College, at 9:50 am EDT on June 7, 2006
Isn’t Ms. Benson merely, in her comments here anyway, “waving” at the answer to an absolutely vital question. What is, what counts as, evidence? Saying that truth is what is supported by evidence and assuming that what evidence is will be somehow obvious is not my idea of an argument likely to lead to a better understanding of what truth is in the various disciplines. If your philosophy is rooted in empiricism, shouldn’t the bulk of your argument be devoted to the nature of evidence?
And, the straw wo/men she sets up and extreme examples she uses may play well to a certain choir, but are not likley to persuade anyone.
DJV, at 11:05 am EDT on June 7, 2006
Given I haven’t read the book I can only infer so much from this interview, but, having worked first as an analyst at large, federally funded research and development centers, and now as a cultural historian of science, Benson’s perspective seems reasonably heavy on the logic, but fatally light on the empiricism.
It seems especially worthwhile in this discussion to keep the distinction between the ideals of how science (perhaps) *should* operate, and what the evidence shows about the *actual* practices of working scientists. My experience is that too often those taking a critical stance on the latter get lumped in (even by logical empiricists!) with those arguing the former.
Lane DeNicola, doctoral candidate at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, at 12:15 pm EDT on June 7, 2006
I’m glad to see that she at least concedes the existence of more fuzzy kinds of truth at the beginning and restricts the empirical kind to science and history — too often, arguments “defending” the existence of scientific empirical truth head down the slippery slope of asserting that such truth is the only real or worthwhile kind and that anything else is mere charlatanism.
There are ways of making interesting and even (validly) persuasive claims about the world that do not mimic the scientific method. It would be great if everyone could agree on that principle.
Adam Kotsko, Graduate Student at Chicago Theological Seminary, at 1:25 pm EDT on June 7, 2006
Possibly Ophelia Benson and Jeremy Stangroom have had sufficient run-ins* with modern-day, formalist Sophists, to avoid inviting further obfuscation?
(*let us not elevate the title of those hackney, picayune encounters to the level of culture wars)
In these times, when out-of-fashion, infinitely intricate, overly complex theorists attempt to paint themselves as post-modern, sophism shows its true value. (irony intended of course, because what use is sophism except to obfuscate “the truth"?)
When sophistic argumentation fails to sufficiently bluster scientists and other logical positivistic/empiricist thinkers, the sophists have often shown they can sharpen their tongues against those who question or doubt the latest silly social theory. Modernist sophists have generally shown they know how to use* the popular media to damage their enemies.
(*while thick and indirect in explaining the latest social criticism or way of knowing, they can be razor shart at dissecting any doubters)
Benson and Stangroom could just be giving benefit of any doubts regarding the motivation of formal modernists, but they could also be trying to avoid sharp retribution by any modern sophists with any spark of energy remaining (to slash back at naive truth-seekers).
Dr. F. Gump, at 1:25 pm EDT on June 7, 2006
After receiving an undergraduate degree in business, I decided to study sociological theory in graduate school with the primary goal of developing a “well-rounded” understanding of the world. I imagined this approach would give me a valuable academic and intellectual edge in life. Wrong. All I found in grad school was postmodern theory. It is unfortunate that postmodernism is dso difficult to avoid, since it is now clear to me that the semesters I spent (in vain) trying to come to terms with this theory were nothing more than an exercise in intellectual masturbation and a waste of valuable time and money (empirical “evidence” enough?).
Of course, I have only myself, or perhaps my personality, to blame for this setback. I am just grateful I managed to escape from my university to live in the developing world for the years it took to screw my head back on correctly. Whereas I used to be convinced that I know nothing, at least now I can say with 100% confidence that I know a thing or two about language and culture- more than can be said for the postmodernists among us.
Today I survive as an academic advisor. My responsibilities include a fair amount of career counseling, but never once have I said or heard a student claim that studying or attempting to apply postmodern theory to social reality is a sensible means to the end of landing (or creating) a job after graduation. This experience only confirms my conclusion that professors who promote a postmodern agenda to their students are doing not only them a disservice, but a disservice to society as a whole for their many magnificent contributions to the burgeoning mass of society’s intellectually useless.
After reading this article, my suspicion is confirmed that professors who promote a postmodern intellectual orientation to students are among the most careless, hypocritical and selfish people inside higher ed. Why else would I be left with the impression that professors like these would consider a morning routine, complete with carefree intellectual jabs and time for musings about truth and evidence over breakfast cereal, to be the type of simple pleasure that would cause any of them to gloat? Until, that is, the day their sizable paychecks stop coming. Then they shall see how far their intellectual masturbation gets them beyond the comforts of their ivory towers...
rk, Advisor, at 4:40 pm EDT on June 7, 2006
Two comments:
(1) We have one word for love, while the Greeks had three: eros (passionate love),philia (dispassionate virtuous love: love of mankind), and storge (affection: parents’ feelings for their childred). [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_words_for_love] Perhaps this made life less confusing for them.
We have one word for truth. It covers poetic truth, political truth, empirical truth, logical truth and probably much more. We might be less confused if we did not confound these. If we did have distinct words for distinct types of truth, perhaps postmoderm ideas from literary theory would have never been applied to the scientific arena. (I suppose you could say I am making an argument that language effects truth!) (2) Ophelia Benson is quoted as saying:
* There are social constructionists in sociology and philosophy of science who view social context as fully explanatory of the formation of scientific belief and knowledge, while excluding the role of evidence.*
I think of it this way, both the social world and the natural world are part of our environment and both effect all areas of human endeavor. Does a certain style of painting have emotional resonance with the times? The answer will of course depend on the social context; indeed even the existence of the question will depend on the social context. However, if we lived in a universe where light did not exist, this question could not be asked. I read a dissertation someone did on Goethe’s critique of Newton’s theory of color; at bottom they were asking different questions.
Aristotelian physics asks why a rock falls to ground. Galileo wanted to know when it will hit the ground. Galileo’s impetus was figuring out how to aim canons. Aristotle could not have cared when a rock would hit the ground. The answer Aristotle gave likely depended on what would be appealing to the people of his time. Galileo’s answer depended rather heavily of properties of the natural world. The number of significant digits his formals needed to give to be of any use depended of the technological limits of time measurements, which is both social and natural. In fact his canon predictions were not very useful in the field! Yet, something about the ideas current in his time still allowed many of his contemporaries to value his work on motion.
(I wrote something on the Sokal Affair about ten years ago. [http://galileo.math.siu.edu/~msulliva/Preprints/socialtext.html] Would I have the same response today?
Mike
PS: Don’t send your children to Wesley; the environment does not seem to be conducive to finding truth.
Mike, Math Prof, at 4:40 pm EDT on June 7, 2006
Dear RK,
I’m sorry to hear that postmodern thinking wasn’t for you. I suppose it’s up for debate whether or not we should abandon the teaching of postmodernism, a cultural movement which dominated the latter half of the twentieth century, solely based on your negative experiences.
I respect the work you do as an advisor. If I seem flippant over cornflakes, I don’t mean to. Certainly I didn’t mean to gloat. And I do care about my students and their ability to build thoughtful, happy, and sustainable lives. However, I resist calculating the value of every educational experience in terms of resume building or careerism. I think that can dangerously limit what we can and should expect of a “college education.”
It would be helpful to know what you mean exactly when you refer to the “postmodern intellectual agenda.” And conversely, what would you take to be a non-postmodern intellectual agenda? As a humanities professor, I can’t imagine trying to avoid or “skip” postmodernism, but I’m not sure that makes me a professor with a “postmodern intellectual agenda.”
Respectfully yours,
Violet, Associate Professor at Midwestern U, at 6:05 pm EDT on June 7, 2006
Violet,
RK’s grievance is that a whole course of study was bent around postmodernism. If what he claims is true, the sociology department in question has done a disservice to its students. I can see a course on the philosophy or history of the field having a unit on postmordernism; a sociology program would be remiss not to include this. However, any useful sociology program should be centered around empirical methods, but not uncritically — the role of the observer is nontrivial.
You claim that postmodermism “dominated the latter half of the twentieth century.” I cannot agree. It was important in some fields in the last quarter of the 1900’s. It had no impact on science, engineering or business curricula. It had little impact on the arts or popular culture although it was an attempt to understand or at least classify trends in these areas. I doubt many writers (of books, films or TV shows) sat down and said “how can I create a postmodern classic?” — as was the case with Marxism, existentialism and surrealism in their time. However, I will acknowledge that postmodern and feminist’s critiques of anthropology helped to dislodge “masculinic” theories that had scant empirical evidence. That is not much to gloat over.
I agree that not all educational goals should be vocational and I find statements like “professors who promote a postmodern intellectual orientation to students are among the most careless, hypocritical and selfish people inside higher ed” [RK] to be objectively rude.
Mike, Math Prof, at 9:20 pm EDT on June 7, 2006
I think some consideration of how the term “postmodern” is used in contemporary discourse could shed light on RK’s disappointing experience in sociology. To some, “postmodern” (like the misuse of the word “ironic”) simply means weird. For others (I’m guessing RK), “postmodern” refers to a wide swath of social constructionist thought that took ascendance in the 2nd half of the 20th century. Others might draw strong lines between Berger & Luckmann’s phenomenological approach, Foucault, deconstruction, and sociology of science, but many lump these together as “postmodern.” As a sociologist, I can’t think of any graduate programs that would push postmodernism (as I understand it) as hard as RK experienced, but I think most sociology programs would require grad students to know about Foucault, phenomenology, and the linguistic turn. Again, where we draw distinctions among these schools of thought, others see them adequately described with the epithet “postmodern.” I bet some people see any departure from the structuralist class-based analysis of traditional sociology as “postmodern.” So, I can see where sociology might have bummed out RK.
On the other hand, RK should feel right at home in sociology. Just pick up the latest issue of out top journal The American Sociological Review. Sociology is far from the hotbed of postmodernism RK perceives it to be. We still love statistics! One’s success most sociology graduate programs will be determined by how well they understand hierarchical linear modeling, not on whether they can explain the difference between lange and parole. Even among the more theoretically catholic (myself included), we still like to talk about independent and dependent variables, and we still unapologetically reduce the complexity of social life into charts and graphs.
My impression is that younger sociologists (like myself – 30s) no longer think that those charts or graphs represent some big Truth or some unvarnished window into Reality. We’re no longer nervous about or suspicious of those colleagues who want to study the “narratives,” “subjectivity,” “ideology,” “culture,” and “experience” behind those numbers through ethnography or document analysis. There are many more colleagues of retirement age who view all as of this as “epistemic relativism” This might be the “dominance” to which Violet is referring; postmodernism/poststructuralism has left a stamp on the social sciences and humanities, even in pockets that aren’t actively working with those ideas, at least attitudinally.
thoughtful posts – good reading!
Brian, Assistant Professor at Big Midwest U, at 11:50 am EDT on June 8, 2006
Thanks to Brian for on-target clarifications.
“The New Criticism” for literature started up in the late 1920’s or early 1930’s.
Many theories have been used in various Humanities and Social Sciences up to the present.
All these various discipline-specific interpretations of various fad theories have generally been criticized by empiricists for ignoring “context” and common proofs.
Postmodernism is generally noted as starting after formal theories of a discipline’s reality or approach to studying reality.
Femmunists have been the worst, but other modernists or theorists (any which require a thick, uninterpretable make-believe code or paradigm) have attempted to paint themselves as post-modern throughout the 1990s.
Most true postmoderns, those who believe that “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar” have retreated as of late.
Sophists were politicians in Greek and Roman times. Wealthy families paid sophists to teach their kids to be politicians. The alternate (theory) reality of early politicians dictated that Socrates would have to die for exploring truth.
Some postmodernists in-hiding have reported sightings of Socrates and Elvis.
Dr. F. Gump, at 1:25 pm EDT on June 8, 2006
Adam Kotsko: “There are ways of making interesting and even (validly) persuasive claims about the world that do not mimic the scientific method.”
Can you give a precise example of a validly persuasive claim about the world that doesn’t follow something very much like the (a?) scientific method?
Perhaps Violet could speak to this also ...
we’re all scientists now ..., ass’t prof at small research university, at 3:40 pm EDT on June 8, 2006
As I said, I have only myself to blame for forsaking volumes of solid, practical knowledge and getting mired down in the pomo trap- not my department, my university or sociology as a discipline. While on the surface, many find pomo theory more compelling than most; taken to its conclusion it is also nihilistic, disfunctional and therefore more dangerous than any other (if one values integrating into today’s society, that is. For those who don’t, I am happy to recommend PM as the ideal basis from which to make appropriate life choices).
This is why I am suspect of professors who, if not directly in class, then indirectly through their published work, encourage students to take a pomo approach to learning and research when they already must know full well that PM is an anti-theory, which, in the end, can neither be fairly negotiated or applied in reality. To be fair, I recognize the obvious possibility that these professors too are mired down in the PM abyss and thus cannot see the forest for the trees when it comes to keeping it real. Additionally, they are under the complex burden of having to publish more and related research while trying to maintain some semblance of continuity in their work. Attempts to escape the abyss by taking only convenient parts of PM theory is to simultaneously undermine and betray it; yet the impossible challenge to “apply” PM theory fully will eventually cause a mental breakdown in any serious student and even in thinkers with the deepest of mental capacities.
I apologize and stand corrected for being rude. I do, however, continue find it remarkable how much mind power and resources are wasted on a subject that has absolutely no basis in reality beyond the isolation, financial security and comfort of the ivory tower. I find the disconnect astounding, and all the more so at public universities where salaries are paid using taxpayer dollars. While I don’t think universities should resemble vocational schools either, it’s clear to me that the most successful and socially productive graduates are most likely be those with strong backgrounds in areas like math, science and business (the same areas, per Mike’s comment, where the PM distraction is much less likely to be encountered). Finally, as for the attempt to get me to better define a “postmodern theoretical agenda,” that’s funny:)
rk, advisor, at 6:25 pm EDT on June 8, 2006
“There is more to life than material gain.”
This says something about the human condition and it means more than its literal rendering gives.
If you read a few serious novels you’ll find many such statements and they’ll be expressed much better this one.
Mike, at 6:25 pm EDT on June 8, 2006
“An example of a persuasive unscientific claim: there is more to life than material gain. This says something about the human condition and it means more than its literal rendering gives.”
It certainly hints at (controversial) claims about the human condition, but I’m not pursuaded.
How would we persuade the Wall Street hedonist driving a kickass car that there’s more to life than money and positional goods?
Well, we might appeal to evidence: many people, even very rich and powerful people, find that there is more to life than material gain. Ergo ...
But that anecdotal claim alone cannot be persuasive, because I’m willing to bet that a carefully designed and sufficiently representative survey of a great many people will find at least a few reasonable folks who, after due consideration, think that material gain really is all they need to live a satisfying life. Are these people simply wrong? Are they morally deficient?
We might then ask penetrating questions about whether there are systematic variations with respect to what sorts of respondents claim to be satisfied with merely material gain. Perhaps younger people raised in certain sorts of households are more likely to be content with material gain than people raised by hippies in near poverty under the shadow of Mount Shasta? Or perhaps these are exactly the people who will eventually emphasize material gain?
No doubt, once we had a better idea of the correlates of variation in claims about life satisfaction in our sample, we’d be tempted to make a moral argument about character and virtue, to the effect that some sorts of life really are better than others, and these more worthy ways of life feature more than simply material gain. We might then be tempted to use this moral framework to explain the variations in our survey data.
But notice that, if we followed this path in turning your pithy aphorism into a persuasive claim, we’d end up making precise philosophical arguments and sociological hypotheses in light of careful empirical research.
That sounds a lot like a scientific approach to me ...
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 5:30 am EDT on June 9, 2006
“Truth is what will make me richest fastest.”
I find pomo thinking at the root of modern capitalism.
Tobacco doesn’t cause cancer, because tobacco makes a lot of money for those who insist it doesn’t cause cancer.
Global warming is, of course, insignificant and unproven, because believing this allows fossil fuel companies to make huge profits, profits that would be reduced if it were necessary to seriously address greenhouse gas production.
One apparently can make a lot more money from food supplements than from addressing AIDS in South Africa, so HIV doesn’t cause AIDS.
...and so on.
I find “free play in language” and “binaries tend to collapse” to be useful tools in explaining some things, but I find “Truth is a good thing to believe at the time” utterly irreponsible. In the end, the binary of utterly-opposed-to-post-modernism vs. wholly-supportive-of-pomo seems a false dichotomy (pre-postmodern terminology); some of it is useful in explaining some things sometimes.
Thane Doss, at 5:30 am EDT on June 9, 2006
‘we’re all scientists now’ writes: “How would we persuade the Wall Street hedonist driving a kickass car that there’s more to life than money and positional goods?”
How to convince him/her about the dangers of global warning? How to convince all Americans that creationism, ESP and astrology are have been thoroughly debunked? In no domain does “persuasive” mean that you have to convince every single person. Indeed your view of scientific truth is so narrow that is gives leeway to the more extreme postmodernists.
‘we’re all scientists now’ writes: “Well, we might appeal to evidence: many people, even very rich and powerful people, find that there is more to life than material gain. Ergo ...”
You are reading the claim too literally.
Here is a more intriguing truth (form Allen Bloom’s – no postmodernist! – essay on “Gulliver’s Travels” in the collection “Giants and Dwarfs”): “Modern science cannot understand poetry, and hence can never be a science of man. […] Science, in freeing men, destroys the natural conditions which make them human.”
These two lines are a bit too strong for my taste (never say never), but they contain truths that are of great value. To appreciate them you’d need to read Swift and I’d recommend Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot”.
Is my telling you that you need to read long hard works of literature to find certain truths any different from telling a creationist that if he really wants to understand the evidence for the theory that natural selection is a sound model for evolutionary change and the diversity of life, that he must take some courses in biology, geology and should even learn some physics (radioactive dating)?
To answer your first question: we could make your tycoon read Plato’s Republic or just wait until he/she has a serious car crash. Nobody said truth was easy.
Mike, Mathematician and amateur reader, at 10:40 am EDT on June 9, 2006
Thane Doss’s comment pretty much gets at what Why Truth Matters is about — the way epistemic relativism or “postmodernism” (we actually don’t talk about postmodernism all that much) is used to enable whatever one wants to enable. I’m suspicious of metanarratives, therefore I can believe whatever I want to, therefore — fill in the blank. The Holocaust didn’t happen, creation myths are just as true as evolution via natural selection, homeopathy works; whatever.
It seems to me the discussion of persuasive claims is mixing up terms.
‘Here is a more intriguing truth...“Modern science cannot understand poetry, and hence can never be a science of man."‘
But if that is a ‘truth’ at all, it is one only in a very loose (not to say woolly) sense. It seems to me to be partly meaningless, partly merely tendentious, partly wrong, and partly, perhaps, crudely expressive of something. It does not seem to me to be unambiguously a “truth.”
Often what gets dubbed (in arguments like this) liteary “truth” is more aptly called something like understanding, explanation, exploration, description, discussion, or all those. Which is a long-winded way of saying that, as Mike pointed out, the word has more than one meaning in English; a situation fraught with confusion.
Ophelia Benson, Editor at Butterflies and Wheels, at 1:35 pm EDT on June 9, 2006
Mike: “In no domain does “persuasive” mean that you have to convince every single person.”
Who said that? Not me. But there’s an obvious difference between uttering a clever aphorism and making a validly persuasive claim, which is the standard Adam invoked.
Mike: “Indeed your view of scientific truth is so narrow that is gives leeway to the more extreme postmodernists.”
Not at all. In fact, that’s just a silly claim. To be clear: I’m not disputing that there are a variety of valid sorts of experience, and I’d even call these valid forms of knowledge. But persuading others of the truth or utility of your claim requires argument and, often, evidence. At least, I’d claim that morally and epistemically valid forms of persuasion must be grounded in publicly accessible evidence and argument. And that sounds a lot like a scientific outlook.
I mean, of course it’s possible to persuade people with pithy aphorisms that hint at supposedly deep “truths” about the human spirit or what have you. And of course we can persuade others with clever and misleading rhetoric, or selective and emotional appeals to partial evidence (which is what a lot of great literature really amounts to, and is no less beautiful and moving for that fact).
But do you, or anyone else, really want to call these valid forms of persuasion?
Mike: “You are reading the claim too literally.”
And you are deliberately ignoring the rest of my post and the force of my argument.
If you think merely quoting Alan Bloom at me is going to persuade me, then I’m sorry but you really aren’t seeing my point here. I’ll simply note that argument by mere appeal to (dubious) authority is not a valid form of persuasion in my, or any other thinking person’s books.
I mean, I’ll buy that there are deep and distinctive aesthetic values associated with (good) poetry. I’ll even go so far as to call those values “truths about poetry.” But why do we imagine, with Bloom and countless others (including, apparently, you, Mike), that those sorts of truths count, on their own, as valid forms of persuasion?
Do you really think that, once revealed in a great sonnet, the truths stand alone, persuading others of their status simply by virtue of having been expressed?
If so, then what’s the point of literary analysis and criticism? What’s the point of teaching poetry? or talking about it at all? You simply read it, and either you get the profound truth or you don’t ... is that a satisfying story about why poetry has such enduring appeal?
Of course it isn’t.
And if you tried to persuade anyone outside of the circle of poetic initiates of the deep truths that you have imbibed, then you’ll end up appealing to — you guessed it — publicly accessible arguments and evidence, which is, really, the heart of the scientific enterprise.
And anyone who fights through Dostoevsky will find plenty of beautiflly crafted emotive appeals masquerading as, for example, generalizable critiques of utilitarianism and half-baked Nietzschean ideas about great men standing beyond good and evil. But this is a novelist’s passionate illustration of a deep unease with some popular moral views. Why treat that illustration as itself a validly persuasive claim? That’s either intellectual laziness, muddleheadedness, or — quite possibly — both.
Mike: “Is my telling you that you need to read long hard works of literature to find certain truths any different from telling a creationist that if he really wants to understand the evidence for the theory that natural selection is a sound model for evolutionary change and the diversity of life, that he must take some courses in biology, geology and should even learn some physics (radioactive dating)?”
Yes, it is very different (and believe me when I tell you, amateur reader and professional mathematician, that I am a professional reader and amateur mathematician, so please don’t lecture me on my assumed lack of exposure to great and not-so-great works of literature).
Look, the idea that we take some literary canon as the font of persuasive truths is just silly.
We can, I think, reasonably treat a canon as a valid source of important intuitions and concerns, but valid persuasion is not a matter of simply sifting through data (qualitative or quantitative) and somehow imbibing deep truths simply by exposure. We need to think carefully, and analyse and argue about the data, and so far no one has shown me that there is a valid way of making persuasive interpretations and arguments about the world of our experience that doesn’t ultimately look a lot like a scientific approach.
Mike: “To answer your first question: we could make your tycoon read Plato’s Republic ...”
Your glib tone aside, I’d respectfully suggest that you read the Republic more carefully. It makes numerous philosophical arguments that respect the spirit of a scientific outlook.
I suspect, however (based on your giddy acceptance of Bloom’s conceits) that you hold something like a Straussian view of that great text — which is, of course, entirely defensible, but to persuade me of it’s veracity or utility you’ll need to make cogent arguments that appeal to the (texual) evidence ...
... we’re all scientists now (at least, if we’re not muddleheaded romantics or closet cynics).
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 1:45 pm EDT on June 9, 2006
What an interesting train of comments—I’m just catching up and feel a bit overwhelmed. (I appreciated Brian’s comments very much, by the way.)
Ophelia, where you see postmodern thinking as a blueprint for moral relativism I see it as an invitation to take moral responsibility for the realities we create as a community. If postmodern thinking reveals to us the discursive nature of “truths,” we don’t have to conclude that all truths are therefore equal. Indeed, I take it as an imperative to choose my truths very carefully, knowing they are choices and not inherently “true.” In other words, postmodern thinking can lead us to the conclusion that all truths require a believing subject, and therefore emphasize the moral weight of our decision to choose one truth over another. So for me, and for many others I know, postmodern thinking can lead us to a moral subject, but one with a tremendous responsibility to maneuver carefully in the discursive universe we share.
Like you, I fear metanarratives: the idea of adhering blindly to some ideology or “truth” fills me with dread. Such a dynamic seems to me the root of totatlitarianism and certainly part of the machinations that resulted in the Holocaust. This does not make me a moral relativist. I don’t believe in creationism and I am suspicious of organized religion, yet t I don’t define all the “truths” in my world using the scientific paradigm. There’s a great Spanish author and philosopher, Miguel de Unamuno, and he talked of his version of religious faith, which was based on a doubting believer, one who chose to believe even though s/he had doubts about the “truth.” Paradoxical, yes, but a good analogy for a postmodern version of morality, I think.
Thanks for the discussion,
Violet, Associate Professor at Midwestern U, at 8:45 pm EDT on June 9, 2006
I’ll be brief as classes are starting Monday.
The word persuasive is an adjective that means “tending to persuade.”
http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary?va=persuasive
No field of knowledge is “persuasive” in your absolutist sense.
Humanists do use textual evidence. But that is not the scientific method.If I wanted to convince students that the inverse squared law is a good model for gravity, I would not quote Newton; I’d show them how observations of the planets and experiments here on Earth are consistent with the model. Humanists do not do this, nor should they.
Plato made many good arguments. But, Plato’s world view was that our perceptions are at best gross distortions of the true really of the world of Forms. That is not modern science. Logical argument predates modern science by many centuries. BTW: In the 1600’s the goal of science (in Europe) was to demonstrate the glory of God by studying His creation.
The goal of modern science is to find good models for observed phenomena. To be “a good model” in this sense means that it is testable, has not failed any major tests and that it accounts for a major portion of the data observed. Scientists use reason and evidence. But that is not what distinguishes science from other fields.
I did not claim that my quoting someone proves the quote is true. My initial goal was just to give a simple example. I cannot present the case to win over an extreme hedonist here any more then I could win over an ardent creationist in a few paragraphs. However, I think you agree with my first claim. As to the Bloom reference, the point is not that science is bad. Bloom is not anti-science and neither am I. The point is that in adopting modern science we made a tradeoff. The rise of modern science was associated with a deep spiritual crisis that is still being worked out. Recognizing this tradeoff – which you likely do — is not equivalent to wanting to roll back the clock (which you did not accuse me of, but I just wanted to be clearer here). Although, Bloom may have been more concerned with the higher level of funding given to the sciences.
WAASN, you do not present any evidence. Statements like, “Who said that? Not me,” “that’s just a silly claim,” and my favorite “Yes, it is very different (and believe me when I tell you …that I am a professional reader…so please don’t lecture me…)” are not acceptable means of establishing the veracity of one’s claims in any corner of academia. What field are you in?
Take care; I will be tuning out for awhile,
Mike, Math Prof, at 10:05 am EDT on June 10, 2006
Violet,
Welcome back.
Your statement “postmodern thinking can lead us to the conclusion that all truths require a believing subject, and therefore emphasize the moral weight of our decision to choose one truth over another,” raises a big red flag on my side of the campus. I try to remember that you are not using truth in the way I normally do, but I have a hard time thinking of examples were one chooses one “truth” over another “truth”. Choosing to accept a religion despite having some doubts doesn’t fit. It seems that de Unamuno just thinks this religion closer to the truth than other “theories.” (Of course you have read him and I have not.) I choose to believe that we are embedded in a unified physical universe. I know I cannot prove it exists, but I accept it as a working hypothesis. I can respect someone who disagrees, but one of us is wrong. (I do not mean “wrong” in black or white sense: both theories could be partly right, or they could be merely parts of some bigger truer theory, but we cannot both be completely right.)
Can you post some additional examples and try to clarify the sense in which you are using the word truth for those of us who live far a field?
Mike, Math Prof, at 10:05 am EDT on June 10, 2006
Violet — Sorry, I wasn’t clear; I should have used quotation marks on that sentence that started “I’m suspicious of metanarratives” — but I thought it would be clear from the absurdity of the conclusion that the whole sentence was a (somewhat mocking) attribution (to a generalized hypothetical “postmodernist,") not a literal statement.
I didn’t say anything about postmodernism as “a blueprint for moral relativism,” I described it as an enabler of epistemic relativism, which is a different thing.
‘Indeed, I take it as an imperative to choose my truths very carefully, knowing they are choices and not inherently “true.”’
There you go: epistemic relativism, big as life and twice as — alarming.
O Benson, Editor at Butterflies and Wheels, at 1:15 pm EDT on June 10, 2006
Hi Ophelia,
I don’t why I wrote “Like you” to introduce my statement on metanarratives (it should have said “Unlike you!")—your post was certainly unambiguous. Sorry for the confusion. It was clear that you were discussing the loss of metanarratives as dangerous, not the metanarratives themselves.
Your point that moral relativism and epistemic relativism are not the same sounds reasonable to me, but certainly we can agree that morality is intimately linked with our definition of “truth.” ( Or maybe I should go think about it some more.) It just seems to me that people want to know the “truth” so they know how to be in the world: what their role is, their relation to others, where to find beauty, and how to be “good.” Which is why theories that destroy metanarratives probably seem threatening and scary for us, I suppose. I just wonder if abandoning the metanarratives and the claims to absolute truth might lead us to a morality that does not require us to blindly accept some extratextual and ultimately unprovable “truth.”
Thanks for reading. I think I need to reflect on this a bit more.
Violet, Associate Professor at Midwestern U, at 3:15 pm EDT on June 10, 2006
Hi Mike,
I have been trying to come up with a response to your question. The answer has something to do with your point that only one “truth” can be the right one, and that all will be revealed at some future, unknowable, moment. I feel uncomfortable with such a notion of truth, which is founded on a belief in some extra-textual, absolute “truth” out there that will someday be available to us, making some of us “right” and some of us (most?) “wrong” in the end (whenver THAT is!). So black and white. So absolutist, even. And so theologically structured, really. It just makes me uncomfortable—I’m wary of aligning myself with such paradigms, probably because I’ve studied too much human history (I say that humbly, not authoritatively) to forget what happens when large groups of people think they are “right” about what it “true!” It can create a false sense of moral authority that results in stunningly immoral actions.
We probably are not that far off in our understanding of “truth.” I’m just hyper-vigilant about modifying my “truths” as doubtful, even tenous, because of this.
Best regards,
Violet, Associate Professor of Spanish at Midwestern U, at 3:15 pm EDT on June 10, 2006
Hi Violet
‘but certainly we can agree that morality is intimately linked with our definition of “truth.”’
Well, definition, maybe, but the thing itself, not so much. That’s pretty much what Butterflies and Wheels is all about: decoupling truth claims from moral, political, ideological commitments. The problem is, the truth isn’t moral (for the same kind of reason that life isn’t fair, that shit happens, and all the rest of the bromides). The truth just is what it is, moral or not. Often it’s not in the least moral. It is true (as far as I know, via news reports) that Mount Merapi is making life difficult and dangerous for people who live near or on it; that’s not moral. And another problem with shaping truth-claims according to morality is that anyone can do that, including people with hateful versions of morality. It’s unwise to encourage them, I think.
‘It just seems to me that people want to know the “truth” so they know how to be in the world: what their role is, their relation to others, where to find beauty, and how to be “good.”’
That’s one reason, but people also want to know the truth (the truth, not the “truth") because they want to understand the world, themselves, each other, history; many things. There is a kind of cognitive morality, and from that point of view, making the truth subservient to extraneous goals is itself immoral.
‘I just wonder if abandoning the metanarratives and the claims to absolute truth might lead us to a morality that does not require us to blindly accept some extratextual and ultimately unprovable “truth.”’
It helps to leave off the alarming and superfluous adjectives, I think. Most rational people don’t make claims to absolute truth; scientists certainly don’t. People with a rational view of truth have no truck at all with blindly accepting anything, and they’re well aware that (apart from mathematics) ultimate proof is unavailable. Nevertheless they (we) continue to insist that it is true that, for instance, the Holocaust happened. There is no need for claims of absolute truth or certainty or proof to say that; there is a mountain of evidence, and that’s good enough.
From what you say in your latest comment, I think you might quite like Why Truth Matters. That’s not to urge you to read it! It’s just to say that it’s not a hymn to absolutism or certainty.
Ophelia Benson, at 5:25 pm EDT on June 10, 2006
I agree with Mike that concrete examples could go a long way toward clarifying how we should think about “truth,” and these examples can point to what’s gained by postmodern analysis (broadly conceived). Can we agree, just for the sake of argument, that Foucault is a postmodernist or, at the very least, that he exemplifies a certain body of postmodern or poststructuralist thought? I was fortunate to read The History of Sexuality as an undergraduate and it was definitely one of my postmodern gateway drugs. One of his mind blowing and truly innovative arguments centers on the creation of homosexuality as a social category. Foucault contends that the articulation of homosexuals as a distinct and scientifically identifiable group occurred in the late 19th century; “homosexuals” were “created” in 1870s. This doesn’t challenge the “truth” of same-sex attraction or its pre-1870s history. BUT, it suggests that the scientific way of understanding same-sex eros is history-bound and culture-bound. The sexologists in the late 19th century didn’t suddenly just “get it right” by turning sexuality into an object of scientific inquiry. As I see it, that’s the “post” of the “postmodern” part; after reading Foucault, we don’t have to slavishly buy into a modernist/scientific reading of sexuality – a reading that’s likely to be reductionist, determinist, essentialist, and some other bad word.
So, Foucault blew up the ontology of homosexuality in broad strokes, but the work that’s taken off from his basic argument in History of Sexuality has really sold me on his original premise (while forcing me & everyone else to rethink some of the finer points). Here’s one example: George Chauncey’s Gay New York (1994). Chauncey shows that men who had sex with other men in late 19th & early 20th century NYC didn’t classify themselves along the hetero/homosexual binary. They had their own sexual classification system and the police, courts, and scientists had theirs. Postmodern thinking – coupled with hours of careful archival work – shows us the power dynamics at work in the battle over the “truth” about homosexuality, same-sex desire, gayness, etc. Now, this might seem like a lot of definitional splicing, but if you read the footnotes of the 2003 Lawrence v. Texas decision (overturning state sodomy laws) you’ll find Foucault’s & Chauncey’s claims about the historically contingent condition of “sexuality.” Kennedy’s decision criticized the Bowers v. Hardwick decision because it rested on the assertion that laws against “homosexual sodomy” have “ancient roots.” Justice Kennedy wrote (citing an amicus brief co-authored by Chauncey and other historians of sexuality) that this is a patently bogus historical claim – not because there haven’t been laws since ancient times against anal or oral intercourse – but because the idea of a “homosexual” as defined by a particular set of sex acts is, in the words of Chauncey, “a stunningly recent invention.” Here, I find I beautiful marriage among postmodern or poststructuralist theory, compelling historical evidence (facts! evidence!), and civic society.
I’m not saying that a Reagan-appointed Supreme Court justice is a secret postmodernist or that he was channeling Foucault. Moreover, I seriously doubt Chauncey would consider himself a “postmodernist.” But the ideas were out there (the ubiquity of the postmodern perspective that Violet referred to). So, as these postmodern ideas about sex were blowing my mind in the early 1990s, they were being deployed by a community of scholars would then provide a key intellectual rationale for a genuinely progressive decision from a Court that’s, um, rather right-leaning. Go postmoderns!
I don’t have to face that false choice Ophelia forces me to make between a postmodernism that somehow denies the reality of the Holocaust and Truth capital T. I don’t have to fight the 1980s Theory Wars all over again. I can read the stuff and it can influence me in my own world of charts and graphs.
Anyway, I’ve enjoyed reading everyone’s posts.
Brian, Assistant Professor at Midwest University, at 5:45 am EDT on June 11, 2006
Thanks so much for the post, Brian. What a great example of the behind-the-scenes struggle to create “truths,” which are clearly culture-bound, as you indicate. And then to show how “postmodern thinking” connected in very “real” ways to court decisions and lawmaking—great!
By the way, reading Foucault in the (very) early 90s blew my mind too.
Back to a rainy Sunday,
Violet, Associate Professor at Midwestern U, at 10:10 am EDT on June 11, 2006
Brian: “I agree with Mike that concrete examples could go a long way toward clarifying how we should think about “truth,” and these examples can point to what’s gained by postmodern analysis (broadly conceived).”
I guess I’m sceptical that we should conceive of pomo analysis all that broadly. Why not be more constrained, so that the murky and silly stuff stays in the category, and the useful critical tools are identified as such, and shown not to depend on the more outrageous (or more often, inscrutible) philosophical claims of self-identified postmodernists?
As an aside (and to clarify why it might be best to leave the more radical postmodernists in their own tent), doesn’t yours and Mike’s call for concrete examples merely privilege the fixed, the (apparently) clear, the willnotmovedness of the voiced white male demanding clarity (obedience?) — and a stage to be clear upon — and in so doing further destabilize the voiceless subaltern on the margins of your discourse? “Clarify” you call. “Examples!” But I resist your seduction, your effort to take my supple fleshy forms with your concretizing demand for obedience, submission. You accept the hegemony of a concretizing epistemology that denies the situated powerladenness of all such concretizing ambitions, by privileging that which remains in the (socially constructed and invariably male) visual field, and neglecting that which falls away, resisting your efforts to rein it in, to subdue it, dominate it with your favoured metaphors of clarification that hint at the embrace of reasonable (com)promise ...
... or something like that.
Brian: “Can we agree, just for the sake of argument, that Foucault is a postmodernist or, at the very least, that he exemplifies a certain body of postmodern or poststructuralist thought?”
I’d rather not: I much prefer reading Foucault the historian to Foucault the half-baked Nietzschean “theorist,” and I certainly prefer either of these Foucaults over most any of the so-called Foucauldian postmodern analyses that popped up like weeds after his death.
Brian: “I was fortunate to read The History of Sexuality as an undergraduate and it was definitely one of my postmodern gateway drugs.”
But insofar as it is sound history, I just don’t see what’s usefully characterized as postmodern about, say, “The History of Sexuality” or “Discipline and Punish". I know everyone reads him this way, and he himself encouraged this with his own interpretive glosses (and in his silly French “deep intellectual” posturing in interviews).
When push comes to interpretive shove, however, I just don’t see why we need the “it’s all faces of power!” pomo reading to make perfectly good sense of Foucault as a very interesting and important historian of ideas.
Brian: “The sexologists in the late 19th century didn’t suddenly just “get it right” by turning sexuality into an object of scientific inquiry. As I see it, that’s the “post” of the “postmodern” part; after reading Foucault, we don’t have to slavishly buy into a modernist/scientific reading of sexuality – a reading that’s likely to be reductionist, determinist, essentialist, and some other bad word.”
See, this is the move I don’t get: why would you think that, without a Foucauldian sociology of knowlege and its production, that we’d “have to slavishly buy into” some conceptually problematic framework? Why couldn’t we just be properly sceptical interpreters of these histories? Do you seriously believe that, if we don’t read and accept Foucault, then we cannot be critical and sceptical of authority claims and accepted meanings?
And you seem to be in a bit of a bind here if you buy the “Foucault as postmodernist” reading: isn’t any interpretive framework really simply an artifact of power, thus making your (apparently) revealing Foucauldian archeology nothing more than another round in the shifting discourses of power?
You think you’re enlightened by your grasp of how the category of “homosexuality” has been constructed in modern history, but you’ve really just bought into another power discourse. And the digging never stops: its non-stop archeology, all the way down ...
If, on the other hand, you think we can successfully get off the “discourses of power” bandwagon at Foucault’s uncovering of the various reasons for constructing the now-familiar category of “homosexuality” (or “madness", or “condemned", or ...), and that this represents a reasonably persuasive account of how knowledge claims are socially constructed, then presumably you read Foucault as, well, a social-constructivist historian.
And if that’s the case, then I’m not sure what conceptual work is being done by “postmodern” in your example.
Mike: “So, Foucault blew up the ontology of homosexuality in broad strokes, ...”
See, it’s that sort of loose use of philosophical terminology that gets the pomos into trouble: as you yourself readily concede, in a very plausible sense the “ontology” of homosexuality isn’t what’s at stake in Foucault’s analysis. Rather, it’s about social meanings, and how these meanings shape the biases and interests of medical scientists and professionals.
Again, you seem to suggest that postmodern and poststructuralist approaches to the sociology of knowledge are what give us the (very plausible and useful) claims from Foucault that many of our apparently objective and seemingly uncontentious categories are in fact more subtle and fluid than we think (or wish to think), and that myriad cultural, political, and economic factors shape the social meanings we accept so that day-to-day discourse proceeds without constant fumbling over controversial assumptions and claims.
Foucault is unsettling because he strips us of that routine conceit, showsing us the messy and often-disturbing processes by which apparently uncontentious shared meanings are forged and perpetuated.
But again, I don’t see what’s gained by calling this approach to conceptual history “postmodern,” even if I’d readily concede that it sometimes deploys interpretive strategies that are probably best-labeled poststructuralist.
The approach certainly is sceptical of a certain sort of enlightenment optimism (and intransigence, and sometimes condescension) — that’s postmodern, right? But there were plenty of enlightenment sceptics who also denied that heady optimism and arrogance, and we don’t call them postmodern (well, I suppose some people try — gotta get those publications out, after all, and “Montaigne as postmodernist” is a better sell in cultural studies journal than “Montaigne: presaging a more theoretically modest and empirically grounded anthropology?").
There is, after all, a tradition of clear-headed thinkers who were sceptical of grand enlightenment claims and aspirations, but who nonetheless seem to have believed that some sort of (reasonably certain) knowledge was possible about an (ontologically distinct) exernal world, and that morality is both meaningful and workable in the world, and not merely a cynical discourse of power and privilege. For instance Hume would roughly fit this characterization, I think.
Now all of this may simply be to say that “postmodernism” is a messy and contested label — true enough. But it seems to me that, when we find something useful and constructive in the critical tools forged by Nietzsche and Foucault, they don’t really depend critically upon buying into the self-identified “postmodern” interpreters of Nietzsche and Foucault (the latter who are, again, encouraged by things Foucault himself said, to be sure).
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 11:35 am EDT on June 11, 2006
My reply to Mike’s latest post doesn’t seem to have made it, so I’ll post an abbreviated version:
Mike, you aren’t engaging at all with my central point.
Mike: “No field of knowledge is “persuasive” in your absolutist sense.”
I’ve given you no “sense” of persuasion. I’ve suggested that, whatever the standards we have in various fields of intellectual endeavour, the practice of persuading others of our truth claims has a sort of deep structure that looks, well, scientific in nature (i.e. we avoid controversial assumptions, argue with shared rules of inference, and make appeals to publicly verifiable evidence).
You assert that when the evidence is textual, the method is not scientific. But that’s mere assertion: they certainly fit the general standard of scientific argument I’m pushing in my posts here. Notice what I am not claiming here: I am not claiming that every field of human intellectual endeavour has, or ought to have, a clearly scientific methodology, or the same standards of inference and truth; I am suggesting that, when we argue to convince others of our truth claims, the practice of persuasion, if morally and epistemically valid, will have a similar structure across those intellectual fields, and it will look roughly scientific.
That’s a controversial claim, but what’s weird is that you, Adam, and others who seem sympathetic to Adam’s suggestion (that there are valid nonscientific forms of persuasion) are not actually making the case for Adam’s assertion, or against my conjecture.
Mike: “Plato’s world view was that our perceptions are at best gross distortions of the true really of the world of Forms. That is not modern science.”
Kurt Godel believed something like this. And it seems to me that Plato’s ontological thesis is amenable to scientific formulation and examination, for someone with sufficient creativity.
Mike: “Logical argument predates modern science by many centuries.”
That’s trivially true. The more interesting question is whether logic predates what we’d reognize as a scientific outlook. Greek history suggests not.
Mike: “The rise of modern science was associated with a deep spiritual crisis that is still being worked out. Recognizing this tradeoff – which you likely do ...”
I don’t, actually. I think the tradeoff is largely illusory, snd ultimately grounded in bad metaphysics and an untenable epistemology. When we adopt a scientific outlook in life, great art and literature is as meaningful and important as it ever was, and “ought” is still weirdly distinct from “is".
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 3:20 pm EDT on June 11, 2006
“I don’t have to face that false choice Ophelia forces me to make between a postmodernism that somehow denies the reality of the Holocaust and Truth capital T.”
I don’t force anyone to do anything. In any case I didn’t say postmodernism denies the reality of the Holocaust. I didn’t even say anything very close to that. I was replying to Violet’s concerns about “claims to absolute truth” rather than imputing anything to postmodernism. My point was that blanket skepticism about all truth is at least as useful to, for instance, Holocaust deniers as it is to, say, postcolonialists. At the same time I explicitly disavowed any claims to absolute truth, and that would include “Truth capital T.” I repeat: never mind “absolute truth,” never mind certainty, never mind “Truth capital T.” Skip all the silly irrelevant pejoratives, all the mocking distancing devices. There is still abundant room (and reason) to talk about common or garden truth and truth-claims. You think it’s true that the Holocaust happened and not true that it didn’t happen, right? There’s no need to add capital letters or scare quotes or the word ‘absolutely’ or ‘certainly.’
Ophelia Benson, at 3:20 pm EDT on June 11, 2006
w.a.s.n.,
I’d like to request that you save your full comments in Wordpad or whatever in case you need to re-post again, so that you can re-post the full version rather than an abbreviated one. They’re eminently worth reading in their entirety.
(You might consider writing an article for Butterflies and Wheels on what you’ve been saying here, too.)
Ophelia Benson, at 8:45 pm EDT on June 11, 2006
To: We’re All Scientists et. al.
Your last post makes me think we have more common ground than might first appear. First, I support your constrained postmodernism, if that means that theory eventually has to connect to real life and representations of real life (data, evidence, & other forms of research material). So, I wouldn’t call myself a postmodernist, but theorists that many people call “postmodern” have influenced my thinking and research. It seemed like that here, the term had been used somewhat broadly (hence my qualifier “broadly conceived”). I don’t have patience for the hyper-skeptical theorizing that denies any basis for knowing something. They might be correct (or whatever) in their theorizations, down there at that Nth degree of skepticism (like you parody), but I’ll let someone else jump into that battle. All I’m arguing here is that there are provisional uses of postmodernist or poststructuralist thought (in fields outside philosophy) and that certain uses of theory don’t require one to fight the “postmodernism denies the truth” battle all over again.
We part ways on Foucault – at least those two books you mentioned. I think he’s a better theorist than he is a historian. Ann Stoler, Thomas Lacquer, and Gail Bederman (in my little opinion) do a better job of bringing to light many of his ideas than he does (if that make sense).
Ophelia – I apologize for the rhetorical flourishes that offended you. I didn’t intend that. All I’m saying is that I don’t think it’s a useful discursive move to think with extreme examples like creationism and Holocaust denying. The provisional & provincial postmodernism that I’m advocating here doesn’t have to defend an epistemology that covers that level of irrationality.
Brian, at 8:45 pm EDT on June 11, 2006
Brian: “All I’m arguing here is that there are provisional uses of postmodernist or poststructuralist thought (in fields outside philosophy) and that certain uses of theory don’t require one to fight the “postmodernism denies the truth” battle all over again.”
Seems plausible.
Constructivism seems to me to provide some promising (although not uncontroversial) avenues of analysis in several instances.
That said, I personally don’t trust many self-professing constructivists to do the actual work.
For instance, I think Ian Hacking has said some interesting things, whereas I think Steve Fuller is reliably silly.
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 5:20 am EDT on June 12, 2006
I think these threads are way off base. The social sciences discussing a concept of truth need mention the formulation of truth in epistemology. Sadly, none of you have done so. There is a specific context to which the nature of truth has been described philosophically. The problem is extensive to areas both in epistemology and metaphysics respectively. However, epistemology is the locus of this problem, and the implications of our epistemological insights are then applied to the classic metaphysical impluse of ‘What is there?’.
The problem of truth is usually conceived as how it is that a statement/proposition is true. In this way, truth is seen as the quality of a statement. There are major sources of contention on how it is that proposition p is true because of blah or blah blah.
Currently, we could say that Quine and Davidson coherentism is a major philosophical school in the post-analytic philosophy tradition. The point I am trying to make is simple: the conception of truth is a philosphical problem, rooted in terms of epistemology.
What bugs me is that sociolog of knowledge presupposes the very fact it sets out to prove. Social constructionist understands knowledge as produced through socialization and social forces, but its initial assumption of sociology is that there are natural explanations for social problems. Sociology by method assumes the very condition of knowledge it uses to derive its conclusion for social constructivism.
Postmodernism is better understood in Lyotard’s essay on postmodernism than Foucalt. In that essay, knowledge is seen as a constructive enterprise in which values and facts are commingled. Lyotard borrows the term of a “language game” from Wittgenstein. Putnam has a famous essay discussing the collapse of the fact and value distinction. I think such philosophical arguments take for granted those things that are good in and of themselves, like the pursuit of wisdom itself. Philosophy is its own reward, and sadly not mentioned enough here. Clearly, truth here is a problem of epistemic reflection on our capacities to know the world, and one should not run from the postmodern conclusions that blur our particular viewpoint from the impulse to do science, or truth-seeking in other forms. We cannot shed our humanity, nor our perpsective; but we can offer our thoughts on why that is so without being postmodern.
LM
lordmystick@yahoo.com, Teaching Assistant at Simon Fraser University, at 5:25 am EDT on June 12, 2006
LM: “I think these threads are way off base.”
How so? off of what base, precisely?
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 8:45 am EDT on June 12, 2006
“Sociology by method assumes the very condition of knowledge it uses to derive its conclusion for social constructivism.”
I agree – to an extent – that a postmodern sociologist is an oxymoron. If you read my original post from Friday, I expressed shock that grad student in an MA sociology program was force fed, (what he called) postmodernism because the discipline. On the other hand, I mentioned that social constructionism (which is almost taken for granted in sociology) appears to many as “postmodern” or, at the very least, a soft form of poststructuralist argumentation; hence the perceived force feeding.
Speaking as a sociologist, I can embrace the uncertainty of knowledge and be self-reflexive about my own language gaming and social location to the point of paralysis. For instance, one could reasonably deconstruct my recent posts as stemming from my professional investment (class interest?) in an intellectual enterprise that sits uneasily between the sciences and humanities. Bourdieu would argue that I’m making a virtue out of a necessity; I’m valorizing an epistemological stance that just so happens to justify my intellectual labor. But I’m willing to plead guilty and serve my sentence as long as I have time left to finish my footnotes and bibliography. In these online discussion spaces (and after my grading is done!), I can chew on the epistemological questions that fall in this in-between space between science and something else, but I have to bracket many of those debates when I sit down to write for audiences composed of sociologists and historians.
Lordmystick: you’ll find strong support for your critique of constructionist sociologies in Woolgar & Pawluch’s Feb. 1985 article “Ontological Gerrymandering: The Anatomy of Social Problems Explanations” in Social Problems. But be sure to read Joel Best’s response “But Seriously Folks: The Limitations of the Strict Constructionist Interpretation of Social Problems,” in Constructionist Controversies (eds. Miller & Holstein, 1993). These readings will also suggest that it’s possible to have these discussions without using the P word and that these debates have been around a long time, albeit under various disciplinary patinas.
Brian, at 9:45 am EDT on June 12, 2006
Brian, nothing you said “offended” me, that’s not the point at all; I’m immensely bored by people who are “offended” by things anyway. It’s just that you mischaracterized what I had said.
The issue is not postmodernism and (say) Holocaust denial, it’s epistemic relativism and (say) Holocaust denial. I disagree that it’s wrong to cite extreme cases like Holocaust denial when discussing problems with epistemic relativism, because such cases are where the problems become downright dangerous. (Furthermore, extreme cases are extreme but not rare. Are you sure you’re not conflating the two? It would be nice if extreme meant rare, but it doesn’t.) Read Meera Nanda’s book Prophets Facing Backward if you’d like to see another example — or just read Steve Fuller’s testimony at Dover.
OB, at 12:05 pm EDT on June 12, 2006
I don’t know. Perhaps, I my inner daimon is mad at the fact that I had to sit through classes with Tarski’s T condition, and Russell’s logical atomism. This inner philosophical child has been picked on so much that, once I am a TA, I will unleash my graduate pains on undergraduates and disciplinary discussions that are doing philosophy without admitting it.
More to the point, I feel that truth ascriptions to propositions we make about the world are at the very ground of this discussion. How it is that truth values assigned to propositions is just how we have talked about it historically. I feel when social sciences engage in these questions, they are partaking of a conceptual analysis that has its roots in what we, philosophers, do.
Far be it from me to judge, I do have only a “green belt” in philosophy.
Personally, I seek a priori justification for my beliefs in a Kantian conceptual scheme, but I am antiquated in my philosophical interests.
I don’t know about you Brian, but since you are a sociologist (Durkheim from ephilosopher??) sorry forgot what I was going to say.
lordmystick, TA at Simon Fraser, at 1:45 pm EDT on June 12, 2006
lordmystick: “... I had to sit through classes with Tarski’s T condition, and Russell’s logical atomism. ... when social sciences engage in these questions, they are partaking of a conceptual analysis that has its roots in what we, philosophers, do.”
Fair enough: the proposition “Fuller’s variant of constructivism is a bad way to approach epistemic questions” is true if and only if Fuller’s variant of constructivism is a bad way to approach epistemic questions.
Off topic (well, maybe not entirely), but one of my strangest recollections from grad school is sitting at a Chinese restaurant defending Davidson’s (in)famous invocation of Tarsky to a group of unsympathetic geneticists, who were convinced that the “snow is white” passage provides clear evidence that philosophers shouldn’t be taken seriously (there are, of course, plenty of reasons why we shouldn’t be taken seriously, but I didn’t think convention T was one of them).
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 3:10 pm EDT on June 12, 2006
(1) Yes, as lordmystick says, this is primarily an epistemological issue (and one that’s been around for eons).
(2) Anyone looking for something more than a coherent understanding is searching for a Holy Grail.
(3) I realize a lot of people don’t like the consequences of that view, but that wasn’t a very good argument against Galileo either. . .
tje, at 10:05 am EDT on June 14, 2006
tje: “Anyone looking for something more than a coherent understanding is searching for a Holy Grail.”
I saw a movie once where they found a Holy Grail, and Hollywood would never promote bad epistemology.
A coherence theory of truth has considerable appeal, but I’ve often suspected that coherence theorists, if they aren’t unabashed relativists, tend to have an implicit account of correspondence lurking somewhere in their epistemology: they’ve purged correspondence from truth, sure, but then you need a satisfying account of credence, which inevitably sneaks some sort of correspondence in through the back door. Davidson, for instance, seems to hang a lot on the inscrutability of reference and a shared ontology. I suppose it could be (variously) coherent webs of belief all the way down — which is, more or less, how Rorty reads Davidson. Personally I find that unsatisfying as a broadly applicable account of knowledge, even if it works as a plausible model of how beliefs hang together.
This is, of course, still a lively topic of debate among epistemologists and I don’t want to turn the waning days of this thread into a debate about arane developments in epistemology and decision theory, but I will note that I read no philosophical consensus on coherence to the degree that you hint at when comparing challengers to Galileo’s critics ("and yet it coheres ..."? come on!).
we’re all scientists now ..., assistant professor at a small research university, at 2:10 pm EDT on June 14, 2006
Advertisement
or search for jobs directly.
Located just north of Houston, Texas, our five campuses serve 1,400 square miles. Our student enrollment is nearly 50,000 in ... see job
Champlain is a vibrant, residential College of 2000 full-time undergraduates featuring professional programs with a liberal ... see job
NYU’s division of University Development and Alumni Relations is currently seeking an Assistant Director, Alumni Affinity ... see job
SCAD-Atlanta seeks candidates for part-time faculty positions in programming for visual effects and interactive design. ... see job
Africa. Sub-Saharan: The history department of Hofstra University invites applications for a full-time tenure-track assistant ... see job
Northeastern University, founded in 1898 and located in Boston, is a private research university that is a leader in ... see job
The University of Minnesota is a premier employer and a talent magnet attracting leading faculty and staff from around the ... see job
The University of California Riverside invests in your future through employee training and career development, access to ... see job
General Purpose
Under the direction of the Midwifery Specialty Direcotr, provide comprehensive primary patient ... see job
Salary: Commensurate with experience Date of appointment: October, 2008 or as negotiated Responsibilities: St. Cloud State ... see job
truth and evidence
Thanks, Scott, for the nutritious read over cornflakes. I read it twice but i’m still not sure if Ophelia thinks there are many versions of truth or if she likes her scientific, “evidence"-based version the best. Further confusion ensues when we consider that methodologies and “evidence” vary by discipline/paradigm, making it difficult to know what Ophelia classifies as “evidence.” I’m just glad she didn’t use the word “fact.”
The humanities and the sciences certainly offer different approaches to what is or can be true, and some of us find comfort in that. It is unfortunate that here such different approaches are cast as a some sort of struggle between “unhappy” or “emotional” minorities/women and the rational, scientific, white men, who are just trying to show us the “evidence.” I think that was unintended, but the discursive evidence is there.
Finally, I wonder what Ophelia means in this last sentence:
["At a time when there are so many theocrats and refugees from the reality-based community on the loose, epistemic relativism doesn’t seem to need more encouragement than it already has."]
Does she mean that even if there is good “evidence” for epistemic relativism that we should choose not to believe it lest we “encourage” it? Hmm. ... ..
Violet, Associate Professor at Midwestern U, at 6:55 am EDT on June 7, 2006