The most universal definition of knowledge is that the latter is ‘justified true belief’, meaning that whatever information we think we possess must be corroborated by sufficient evidence but also, and just as importantly, by an inner conviction that, what we know, is actually the case. In our conscious life, we may, indeed, be fully aware of our home address or the year of the battle of Hastings. We simply know that we know such facts. However, our ordinary life is full of potential lapses of memory and Sigmund Freud first attempted to shed some light on what he called ‘the psychic mechanism of forgetfulness’, in a short essay published in 1898. Freud was interested in the unconscious, unfulfilled desires hidden behind such temporary dysfunctions. However, we are more concerned, here, with the philosophical effects of our occasional lapses of knowledge in everyday situations.
Let’s take the example of a missing umbrella. The weather has not been so good for several days and, for some reason, unknown to you, you haven’t taken your usual precaution of taking an umbrella while leaving the house. After several days, it gradually dawns on you that the reason for not using the umbrella was because you somehow knew that it was actually nowhere to be found. It is as if your unconscious mind had been informing you, in a mysterious way, that there was no need to take an umbrella. We have all experienced such a situation which reveals some fundamental aspects of our knowledge of both ‘Being’ and ‘Non-Being’. In his famous 1945 essay on ‘Being and Nothingness’, Jean-Paul Sartre highlights a key principle of our understanding of Being, by warning his reader that ‘the permanent possibility of non-being, outside us and within, conditions our questions about being.’ But under which circumstances can we ever claim to be conscious, and therefore to have any form of knowledge of so-called ‘nothingness’?
Sartre provides a telling example of such an occurrence in the opening pages of his long essay: he has an appointment with Pierre in a café, at four o’clock and arrives a quarter of an hour late. He is surprised not to see Pierre as he is always punctual. Sartre comments: ‘Is there an intuition of Pierre’s absence, or does negation, indeed, enter in only with judgement?’ In other words, do I experience the absence of Pierre or do I arrive at the conclusion that if Pierre is nowhere to be seen, he must, indeed, NOT be in the café. In fact, Pierre’s absence is not an evanescent, elusive event. It is fully accessible to my knowledge since through the presence to my mind of his physical absence, Pierre makes me aware of his former existence. The same conclusion would equally apply to the missing umbrella, which, through its physical absence eventually reminds me of its former existence and usefulness to me. It is out of their similar ‘nothingness’ that both Pierre and the umbrella eventually re-establish their presence in our mind.
Triple A Learning IB Blogs
Philosophy
Welcome to the Triple A Learning blog for DP Philosophy. The most recent blog posts are listed below and you can access the blog archive by following the appropriate link in the panel on the left.
August 8, 2011
The case of the missing umbrella:
July 4, 2011
A.N Whitehead and Process Theology:
Who knows about Alfred North Whitehead, these days, when the academic world seems to have moved from the days of the truly Renaissance man to the more mundane recognition of the philosophical specialist? Yet, Whitehead deserves to be better known and, more importantly, better appreciated as he was not only Russell’s Mathematics tutor at Cambridge but collaborated with the latter on the extraordinarily ambitious Principia Mathematica, published in the early 1910’s. This work alone expanded the previous logical systems of Aristotle and Leibniz and paved the way to the logic developed by Alan Turing in his post-war computing machines. Whitehead had a distinguished career at both Cambridge and London Universities but his many interests, as an academic polymath, took him to the other side of the Atlantic as he was invited, aged 63, to teach Philosophy at Harvard University. Paradoxically, his philosophical legacy does not lie in the field of physics or mathematics (Russell, himself, suffered from a nervous breakdown when he realised the few unavoidable inconsistencies of the Principia logic) but in the realm of Theology. Greatly influenced by the revolution introduced by Einstein’s theory of relativity, Whitehead came to support an interpretation of physical reality based on the idea that ‘change is constant , whether we measure it by minute or by millennia; we ourselves are a part it; we have been brought into existence in a certain quarter of the universe in consequence of its processes, and there is no reason to suppose that other types of existence, unimaginable to us, have not been produced elsewhere in the universe.’
Applying his scientific belief to the realm of theology, Whitehead conceived an ever-changing and constantly evolving universe, created by a God who, himself, is in a constant process of self-transformation while sharing the joys and tragedies of his creatures. Such an unfinished Creation has been criticized for implying the fundamental limitations of an imperfect deity. However, Whitehead defended his theory by arguing that God and mankind may, one day, come together when man’s moral and intellectual qualities lead him to his ultimate apotheosis. For Whitehead, ‘God is in the world, or nowhere, creating continually in us and around us. This creative process is everywhere … In so far as man partakes of this creative process does he partake of the divine, of God, and that participation is his immortality, reducing the question of whether his individuality survives death of the body to the estate of an irrelevancy. His true destiny as co-creator in the universe is his dignity and his grandeur.’
May 15, 2011
Ethics and Applied Ethics
The expression ‘applied ethics’ sounds like a contradiction in terms as if ethics consisted exclusively of the theoretical study or passive contemplation of pure ideas, such as patience or justice. Ethics means nothing if its principles are not directly and consistently “applied” to situations requiring a moral response informed by a familiarity with ethical judgements and a degree of personal experience. In this light, ethics is not so much about what we do but about the kind of moral agent we are (Virtue ethics), intend to be (Kantian ethics) or purport to be (Utilitarian ethics).
Applied ethics is the result of two combined historical factors, ultimately leading to a new conception and re-definition of what constitutes a practical moral code. The first historical factor is the slow decline of traditional moral values and gradual loss of faith, spreading across nineteenth-century Europe at a time when science is becoming the new religion of mankind. Darwin unwittingly unleashed a new scientific spirit, not only prepared to defy the last remnants of religious orthodoxy but to deny altogether the very foundations of Judeo-Christian morality. Ethics was suddenly faced with its own moral dilemma: what was the place or point of ethical principles in a world seemingly ruled by blind biological laws? If ethics was no longer to serve its original purpose as guide to ‘the good life’, perhaps its new role could be to act as a bulwark against the unstoppable progress of science and its meddling with the very ‘stuff’ of life, namely conception and death.
Today, science has invaded every aspect of human life and although it has not quite ‘killed’ God, it has certainly minimised his moral influence over individuals and seized its chance to shape the very future of the human species. Applied ethics might not be able nor willing to slow down medical nor technological progress but its mission and duty is to defend and protect the existence of inalienable principles of respect towards any form of life, be it human, animal or vegetable.
May 7, 2011
Philosophers and their ‘conceptual personae’
In their co-written book What is Philosophy? (1991) Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari dedicate a chapter to ‘conceptual personae’ as living embodiments or illustrations of philosophers’ key ideas. Both authors draw similarities between the fictitious characters of novels and the concepts running through philosophical works. The most famous character in the history of Philosophy must be Socrates although the Athenian gadfly appears like nothing more than the mouth-piece of an invisible Plato, both eerily removed from the realm of reality as the silent author gives voice to a purely philosophical Socrates. But would the real flesh and bones Socrates have agreed with the dangerous ideas put into his mouth by the Plato of The Republic and The Laws? The historical Socrates seems to have been used as a mask by a disciple gradually taking more and more his distance from his early master but still resolved to pursue his own intellectual journey under the guise of a Socratic thinker. Didn’t the great philosopher, self-confessed enemy of art and literature, create, against his will, the most enduring philosophical persona of all times?
By contrast, the first master of modern Philosophy owes his posterity to his radically new method of writing and his way of portraying himself as the philosophical hero of his meditations. His Discourse on the Method (1637) turns its back on dry scholasticism and paves the way to the introspective literary genre of the eighteenth-century. Descartes is the Cogito and despite his personal motto, ‘larvatus prodeo’, recommending to proceed cautiously behind a mask, the Rationalist of Amsterdam, does not need any dramatis personae. Instead, he gives us free access to his most inner thoughts and patiently persuades us of the primacy of reason over our senses. Yet, the rigorous thinker is the first to confide to his young correspondent, Princess Elizabeth, that although his speculations give him the greatest pleasure, they are never conducted for more than a few hours a day ‘as it would be very harmful to occupy one’s intellect frequently in meditating … since this would impede it from devoting itself to the functions of the imagination and the senses.’ Reading such a candid confession, one can only regret that the real Socrates is forever inaccessible to us, beyond the stereotyped persona represented in Plato’s Dialogues.
April 21, 2011
From political rights to the right to basic human needs
One significant new development in the debate on rights, going back as far back as the natural rights tradition of Grotius and Pufendorf down to John Rawls’s Theory of Justice , is the new approach and definition of what formerly-called ‘natural rights’ actually entail. Globalisation has highlighted the blatant social injustice prevailing between so-called ‘industrialised’ countries and ‘developing’ ones. The Lockean notion that ‘life, liberty and property’ summarise the legitimate aspirations of every human being, or possibly, every human being having access to property or already enjoying its benefits through farming or tenancy, is being questioned and challenged in the light of a third of the world population being reduced to scraping a living and hence effectively deprived of both ‘freedom’ and ‘property’. What Locke had in mind when he referred to the general concept of ‘life’ is the right for every individual not to be subjected to inhuman treatment in the name of political expediency. This is a politicisation of the originally Christian conception of ‘life’ as a gift from God to his creatures and the concomitant duty for everyone to protect and respect the life of others as equal members of the same species. Locke’s more mundane preoccupation was, in fact, to secure the rights of propertied white Englishmen, potentially threatened by a tyrannical regime.
The contemporary conception of rights has moved from a narrow European context to a far more universal concern for human welfare, applying equally to both genders and all ethnic groups. There is little point in claiming political rights when one’s fundamental needs are not even met on a daily basis. For this reason, political theorists such as Amartya Sen, Peter Singer or Martha Nussbaum have shifted their arguments for rights to the defence of fundamental needs such as access to water, shelter and adequate nourishment. In this new context, it is not up to the starving to claim their right to be fed but it is a duty incumbent on rich countries to take action and provide the necessary humanitarian aid, in the first instance. It is, indeed, a sad reflection of a deeply divided world when political theorists have to redefine the very concept of ‘rights’ and bring it down to the most basic conditions of human life, in the hope that the most privileged sections of the human race will be prompted to alleviate the poverty of their less fortunate fellow human beings.
April 4, 2011
IB student and teacher resources – Triple A Learning BACCpacks
Triple A Learning is delighted to announce the publication of the first batch of its student and teacher BACCpacks.
BACCpacks are cutting-edge downloadable e-learning resources.
March 31, 2011
Wittgenstein’s beetle in a box and philosophical activity
Wittgenstein’ s analogy of the beetle in a box in his Philosophical Investigations (1.293), points out our difficulties at sharing out most private experiences with others. For one thing, what do we actually mean by ‘pain’ or ‘disappointment’ or ‘regret’? My ‘own’ words to designate my personal mental states may not correspond to what you understand by ‘pain’, ‘disappointment’ or ‘regret’, let alone the fact that the latter feelings and emotions may not relate, at all, to your personal experience of them. In other words (!), our own private language is untranslatable just as our own beetle in a box remains a mystery to everyone else.
Wittgenstein rejects the possibility of any private language as he considers linguistic statements to acquire their actual meaning only within a public or social context. As a human activity, philosophy qualifies as a type of ‘language-game’ with its own vocabulary, concepts and rules of dialogical engagements. Wittgenstein certainly valued philosophy as the highest human activity as he considered it a cathartic therapy ‘against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language.’ The main purpose of philosophy is, therefore, the clearing away of false or alleged philosophical problems, directly caused by a misuse of language itself.
The analogy of the beetle in a box can receive a range of divergent interpretations as it is intentionally open to endless discussions as to its possible meaning. In this respect, Wittgenstein would agree that as a stimulus for debate, his analogy may lead to new uses of the words ‘beetle’ or ‘box’, once set in a totally unfamiliar context. The surreal world described by Lewis Carroll in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland gives some idea of what happens to language when it reinvents itself and opens new horizons of meaning. Wittgenstein was deeply aware of the endless resources of language and for that very reason, philosophy is that special ‘game’ played by the most earnest and open-minded participants in search of new ways of expressing thoughts and feelings.
March 22, 2011
Water on the brain
Water is so essential to life that its first mention in Genesis implies its pre-existing God’s very act of Creation: ‘And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters’ (Genesis, 1:2) But what were those mysterious ‘waters’? Some stagnant pond or a vast ocean, covering a submerged primeval land? For Muslims, the holy Kaaba, in Mecca, is the very site of Adam’s house, rebuilt by Noah after the deluge, in other words, a safe earthly foundation above an unpredictable watery expense. Out of the five interacting elements to be found in Chinese philosophy, Water quenches Fire, rusts Metal, nourishes Wood and is absorbed by Earth. For the fourth-century BC Chinese philosopher, Mencius, ‘Water indeed will flow indifferently to the east or west, but will it flow indifferently up or down? The tendency of man’s nature to good is like the tendency of water to flow downwards. There are none but have this tendency to good, just as all water flows downwards.’
Greek philosophers and especially pre-Socratic thinkers, regarded water, earth, wind and fire as the potential primary elements from which all life forms originated. Thales of Miletus was the first to put forward the idea that water is that fundamental element and the very source of all creation. However, it was Heraclitus who gave philosophy its first water analogy when he compared life to an ever-changing, flowing river. The impermanence of water and human life was summarized by Plato in the famous aphorism: ‘Everything changes and nothing remains the same; you cannot step twice in the same stream.’ Narcissus was the first victim of the lure of water as he could not keep away from his own reflection and was condemned to admire his own image, even when he reached the underworld and could still see his reflection in the black waters of the Styx.
The German philosopher Hegel broke Narcissus’ spell when he compared the act of artistic creation to a boy throwing stones into a river and wondering at the concentric circles appearing in the water. Hegel’s young boy becomes conscious of his own identity as he leaves his mark on the physical world. Water has proved a source of enduring poetic inspiration far more than a legitimate topic for philosophical investigation. When Romain Rolland, suggested to his friend Sigmund Freud that religious belief had its origin in an ‘oceanic feeling’ of awesome wonder and boundless communion of the self with the cosmos and an ultimate Being, the scientifically-minded Doctor commented that such a feeling was nothing but an illusion, born out of our sense of helplessness in an infinite, Godless universe. Perhaps, we should bear in mind that the founder of psycho-analysis was never attracted to the pleasures of the seaside nor the charms of the Danube but much preferred the Vienna woods where he went for Sunday walks which often ended at the top of the Bellevue hill from which he enjoyed a panoramic view of his beloved city.
March 6, 2011
Who’s afraid of Jurgen Habermas?
Jurgen Habermas, the 81 year-old German thinker, has dedicated his academic life to the pursuit of a philosophical project aimed at clarifying and furthering the ideas of the Enlightenment, against the sceptical and critical views of postmodern critics. As a philosophy student in post-war Germany, Habermas first fell under the spell of Heidegger’s Greek-inspired ontology before becoming the assistant of the Frankfurt social critic, Theodor Adorno and gradually developing his personal re-interpretation of human nature, from the early days of the newly-founded Federal Republic to the still growing spread of globalization.
Habermas writes in the shadow of pre-1945 Germany history and his approach to inter-personal relations is haunted by his experience of the absence of any ‘public sphere’ in Nazi-dominated Germany. It is not enough to assume that, following Kant, every rational being expressing his views publicly will treat his opponent with the dignity and respect owed to every human being. Habermas is more suspicious of human nature than Kant, and his philosophy of ‘communicative rationality’ aims at setting specific norms and procedures which underpin any potential dialogical activity. In other words, Kant’s philosophy of good intentions must be buttressed and guaranteed by rules of discursive engagement which will ensure the fair representation of each side of a discussed issue.
Habermas’ philosophy of communication has naturally evolved over the last forty years but his fundamental belief in the self-corrective nature of successful democratic societies has remained the bedrock of his thought as the much respected German philosopher has recently turned his attention to the role of the European Union in a fast-changing global world as well as the place of religious belief in the public sphere. No course about contemporary issues can ignore nor neglect the extraordinarily rich and challenging views of the German social theorist.
February 15, 2011
The rights of indigenous peoples
Have indigenous populations the right, not only to be protected from the threatening effects of globalization on their way of life, but also to be legally and politically supported in their claim to self-determination? The United Nations recognize in its Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People, adopted by the General Assembly on 13 September 2007 that indigenous peoples, in exercising their right to self-determination, have the right to autonomy or self-government in matters relating to their internal and local affairs, as well as ways and means for financing their autonomous functions (article 4). Furthermore, indigenous peoples have the right to maintain and strengthen their distinct political, legal, economic, social and cultural institutions, while retaining their right to participate fully, if they so choose, in the political, economic, social and cultural life of the State (article 5).
However, this Declaration carries no legal sanction against UN member states’ violations of this right. For this reason, the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues keep a close eye on the latest developments taking place among sensitive populations, likely to suffer from encroachments of their fundamental rights. At the Belem World Social Forum in 2009, more than a 1000 people drew attention to the threat posed by globalization to the indigenous and tribal peoples of the Amazon.
Students of Theme 8, dedicated to ‘People, nations and cultures’ should be aware of the struggle of local and tribal populations all around the world. Sovereign states are notoriously reluctant to relinquish any political and economic power to ethnic minorities, often linguistically and culturally estranged from the dominant national culture. Such groups can simply be swallowed up or absorbed by globalization. On the other hand, the power of the Net can, not only help these minorities be heard for the first time but also contribute to their rights being vindicated worldwide, through a better understanding of their plight.
