In a pub a few days ago, I made a bold claim (as one does). We were discussing the differences between philosophy and the natural sciences. I ventured that the method of working of most academic science was not that different from the method of working of most academic philosophy. People seek to establish small, well-defined results through a painstaking examination of the evidence. The difference is that in philosophy, the evidence is not so well-defined, nor so independent of the experimenters, as in the natural sciences. Evidence in philosophy consists largely of our pre-theoretical intuitions, and of our reflections on hypothetical cases which are designed to elicit those intuitions or to put them under pressure. We are therefore neither surprised nor distressed when different philosophers hold contradictory views, and we do not assume, although we may hope, that decisive experiments to resolve such contradictions are just around the corner.
If minute and painstaking work in philosophy does not produce the goods in the way that it does in the natural sciences, should we carry on doing philosophy in this way? Might we not be better off with grand and radical philosophies? Excited though I am by the prospect of living to see the next Descartes or Nietzsche, I think we should keep the minute work going. One cannot first resolve to produce something radical, and then produce it. One has to have something worthwhile to say first. And the minute work provides a reality check, by threatening the swift demolition of castles in the air through exposure of contradictions in their foundations. Having said that, rather more bold claims in print, clearly proclaimed rather than as one often finds having to be inferred from a criss-cross reading of the text, would be stimulating.
Friday, 30 May 2008
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Museums and politics
In the British Museum this afternoon, I came across an exhibition of Mao badges, all nicely polished up. The Museum chose to be neutral on the historical context, saying neither good things nor bad things about Mao. But he was one of the most foul and murderous dictators of all time, right up there with Stalin and Hitler. It would be hard for a museum to stage a similar exhibition about either of those two without providing a bit of context.
This set me wondering about the responsibilities of museums, especially in the light of last year's exhibitions on the slave trade, which did not give much prominence to the large-scale trade that had gone on within Africa for hundreds of years. And there was an exhibition on Soviet and Fascist art and architecture of the 1930s and 1940s at the Hayward Gallery and then in Barcelona and Berlin in 1995-96, under the title "Art and Power", which Time Out chose to describe as "pernicious".
I would not want to drag museums into politics, but nor would I exclude them from politics. Perhaps museums should simply encourage people more directly to go and find out about the historical context for themselves. After all, the Internet makes that easy enough. Any one site may not be authoritative, but it is easy to find a wide range of conflicting views. There is a lot to be said for articulate debate and disagreement. Apart from anything else, it is a great antidote to conformist political correctness.
Sunday, 9 March 2008
Tai Chi and reality
This afternoon I went to a talk by a Tai Chi teacher. It was billed as philosophical, but it was not philosophical in any western sense, nor even in many of the eastern senses. The teacher’s central claim was that there was something beyond plus and minus, beyond yin and yang, which he had discovered. He did not say, but I think he was implying, that we could discover it too.
I do not accept his claim, or at least I do not feel inclined to search for this thing myself. If this thing beyond is a state of the person (and I am deliberately not saying whether we should break that down into a state or mind and/or a state of body), its realisation will be in the form of a disposition of molecules and the route to it will be some form of conduct, whether actions or inaction. That much, we can leave to the scientists to explain. If we are asked to see it in non-scientific terms as part of the route to it, that is just practical psychology. If we are asked to see it in non-scientific terms because that is the best way in which its nature can be conveyed, that is not problematic either. When we are invited to picture elementary particles and their interactions in a given way, we are invited to think of them in a way which does not correspond very closely to the way they actually are, but that does not matter.
Can we go further? Could this thing beyond be a reality that was beyond the reach of science? The teacher obviously thought that it was. In a discussion afterwards, someone asked me whether I rejected the claims made because they were not scientific. I saw that my criticism should not be put in those terms. I am happy to say that the beauty of a Mozart symphony is real, meaning the beauty itself, not the brain states which hearing the symphony induces, even though the beauty as such is not the sort of thing in which scientists would traffic. My criticism is that the thing of which the teacher spoke could not have even that sort of reality. The beauty of a work of art depends on its having a certain articulation. That of which the teacher spoke was without form, and void.
That leaves the reality of myth. The characters and other elements in myths, including many religions, are real for the believer. But I do not think that the teacher could lay claim to that kind of reality for the thing about which he spoke. The reason is that he started by describing, or failing to describe, the thing directly. Myths start as stories, characters in a world. Only in later generations do we analyse them and explain what they are really about. A story cannot have the real presence of a myth if it was deliberately constructed from the beginning as a way to give substance to something of uncertain status, or at least it cannot have that real presence for anyone who is aware that it was constructed for that purpose. A decoded myth is no longer a myth, but a metaphor.
Saturday, 9 February 2008
Rowan Williams and Shariah law
The Archbishop of Canterbury has opened up a debate on a possible place for Shariah law within, or alongside, British law. There are two separate questions. First, what are the arguments for and against having different legal systems within the same country? Second, what should we think of the particular example of Shariah law, given its nature?
On the first question, it strikes me that there is a lot of merit in having a single system, applicable to everyone. Within it, one can have different systems of arbitration which people involved in, for example, a commercial dispute can choose. Indeed, that happens now. Most commercial disputes that get as far as a formal hearing before an independent party are settled by arbitration, rather than by the courts. But commercial disputes have the important feature that they do not necessarily involve our deepest values or feelings. Resolving a commercial dispute can be like solving any other technical problem. In that respect, they are unlike disputes which fall within the area of family law. It would be very dangerous to extrapolate from the success of commercial arbitration to other areas. In particular, once the passions are stirred, the processes of choosing, and accepting as appropriate, an arbitrator with a particular way of approaching disputes, take on a new colour. It is much less obvious that all parties will be genuinely free in making their choice. And once children are involved, we cannot think of them as choosing or accepting a given arbitration process. We can easily think that a given process would be appropriate, by identifying a child as Christian, Muslim or whatever. But children have not on the whole made free and informed choices of religion. In truth, there is no such thing as a Christian or a Muslim child, only a child of Christian or Muslim parents. So I would confine arbitration which can bind the parties to cases where the issues are financial, rather than being issues of life and love. Of course there is a role for non-binding arbitration practically everywhere in the area of civil, as opposed to criminal, law. It shades into friendly advice. If we were not able to resolve most of the issues between us by discussion and compromise but always litigated, society would grind to a halt.
Turning to Shariah law in particular, there are areas where we have already made accommodations, in particular tweaks to the tax system to handle transactions that are in substance payments of interest but in form something else. Those tweaks strike me as harmless. The transactions might well be chosen by non-Muslims, because of the ways in which they distribute risk. Equally, the tax system is tweaked to accommodate securitisations and various types of derivative. Again, we are in the emotionally boring world of commerce.
The proposal is of course to go further, and in particular to move to family relationships. Here there is an enormous danger, which runs very deep. The Islamic tradition is to accord separate roles to men and women - as is the Christian tradition, to some extent. This is a disastrous starting point. You can accord all sorts of rights and honour to women, but if you identify them as a separate group from men, the rot has already set in. The racial segregationists of the southern United States relied on the doctrine of "separate but equal", which meant nothing of the sort. We must join the Muslim women of Ontario who saw off the threat of Shariah there and set ourselves firmly against any role for Shariah law in resolving disputes that involve personal relationships. The problem is not that all of the doctrines of Shariah law are wrong. As in any legal system, some are good and some are bad - although Shariah does have an ample share of bad doctrines. The problem is that the starting point, the basic vision of society as comprising two separate groups with different roles, is totally antithetical to the individual liberty of all people and to equal opportunity for all people to shape our society.
On the first question, it strikes me that there is a lot of merit in having a single system, applicable to everyone. Within it, one can have different systems of arbitration which people involved in, for example, a commercial dispute can choose. Indeed, that happens now. Most commercial disputes that get as far as a formal hearing before an independent party are settled by arbitration, rather than by the courts. But commercial disputes have the important feature that they do not necessarily involve our deepest values or feelings. Resolving a commercial dispute can be like solving any other technical problem. In that respect, they are unlike disputes which fall within the area of family law. It would be very dangerous to extrapolate from the success of commercial arbitration to other areas. In particular, once the passions are stirred, the processes of choosing, and accepting as appropriate, an arbitrator with a particular way of approaching disputes, take on a new colour. It is much less obvious that all parties will be genuinely free in making their choice. And once children are involved, we cannot think of them as choosing or accepting a given arbitration process. We can easily think that a given process would be appropriate, by identifying a child as Christian, Muslim or whatever. But children have not on the whole made free and informed choices of religion. In truth, there is no such thing as a Christian or a Muslim child, only a child of Christian or Muslim parents. So I would confine arbitration which can bind the parties to cases where the issues are financial, rather than being issues of life and love. Of course there is a role for non-binding arbitration practically everywhere in the area of civil, as opposed to criminal, law. It shades into friendly advice. If we were not able to resolve most of the issues between us by discussion and compromise but always litigated, society would grind to a halt.
Turning to Shariah law in particular, there are areas where we have already made accommodations, in particular tweaks to the tax system to handle transactions that are in substance payments of interest but in form something else. Those tweaks strike me as harmless. The transactions might well be chosen by non-Muslims, because of the ways in which they distribute risk. Equally, the tax system is tweaked to accommodate securitisations and various types of derivative. Again, we are in the emotionally boring world of commerce.
The proposal is of course to go further, and in particular to move to family relationships. Here there is an enormous danger, which runs very deep. The Islamic tradition is to accord separate roles to men and women - as is the Christian tradition, to some extent. This is a disastrous starting point. You can accord all sorts of rights and honour to women, but if you identify them as a separate group from men, the rot has already set in. The racial segregationists of the southern United States relied on the doctrine of "separate but equal", which meant nothing of the sort. We must join the Muslim women of Ontario who saw off the threat of Shariah there and set ourselves firmly against any role for Shariah law in resolving disputes that involve personal relationships. The problem is not that all of the doctrines of Shariah law are wrong. As in any legal system, some are good and some are bad - although Shariah does have an ample share of bad doctrines. The problem is that the starting point, the basic vision of society as comprising two separate groups with different roles, is totally antithetical to the individual liberty of all people and to equal opportunity for all people to shape our society.
Thursday, 24 January 2008
The squaddie's gasper
Matthew Parris, writing in today's Times, has an anecdote about a soldier waiting for a train, having to enjoy his cigarette in the rain because it is now against UK law to smoke in a public space that is under cover. My immediate reaction was that this was not right for a guy who might be on his way to be shot at in Afghanistan.
On the one hand, we expect laws to apply to everyone, or at least for any exemptions to be based on obviously relevant facts - as when police drivers can break the speed limit in an emergency. Being a soldier is not in itself enough to exempt you from a law on smoking in public places. On the other hand, I would want to let the soldier enjoy his smoke wherever was most comfortable for him.
Is there a compromise available here? We could have exceptionless rules, but then have enforcers of rules who exercised common sense. It would be a risky approach, because you could not instruct the enforcers as to what exceptions to allow. That would amount to legislating the exceptions. It would also be risky because enforcers could start to exercise their personal preferences, either as to classes of people to let off or as to specific individuals to let off. We could soon slide into the rule of men, rather than the rule of law. But perhaps we should tolerate that to a limited extent, in trivial matters like the occasional cigarette. I fear that we are losing such flexibility. A "rules is rules" attitude is nothing new, but it is now encouraged from the centre with standards, guidelines, targets and boxes to tick.
On the one hand, we expect laws to apply to everyone, or at least for any exemptions to be based on obviously relevant facts - as when police drivers can break the speed limit in an emergency. Being a soldier is not in itself enough to exempt you from a law on smoking in public places. On the other hand, I would want to let the soldier enjoy his smoke wherever was most comfortable for him.
Is there a compromise available here? We could have exceptionless rules, but then have enforcers of rules who exercised common sense. It would be a risky approach, because you could not instruct the enforcers as to what exceptions to allow. That would amount to legislating the exceptions. It would also be risky because enforcers could start to exercise their personal preferences, either as to classes of people to let off or as to specific individuals to let off. We could soon slide into the rule of men, rather than the rule of law. But perhaps we should tolerate that to a limited extent, in trivial matters like the occasional cigarette. I fear that we are losing such flexibility. A "rules is rules" attitude is nothing new, but it is now encouraged from the centre with standards, guidelines, targets and boxes to tick.
Saturday, 22 December 2007
Solstice reflections
It is that curious time of year when London is open for frantic business, and then firmly closed for a day. Having particular days in the year when life is, however trivially, different gives a certain structure. To some extent, that structure is enforced in law with restrictions on the opening of shops on 25 December, or enforced in practice on many people by the withdrawal of public transport and the closure of public museums and art galleries. But the structure will not suit everyone. There are those who would rather there was no great build-up followed by national closure, either because they feel lonely or because they would rather not suffer clogged roads and airports. Christmas is not the only example, of course. Public holidays have similar, but lesser, effects.
So is it right that these things should be imposed, or should all laws setting out public holidays and special rules associated with them be abolished? I think the latter, on grounds of individual liberty, but there is a case to be made for the other side.
The case is that those who want the structure and the special days can only have them if most people join in. If there were no laws, many people would not join in. Traditions are not strong enough to do the same job. I remember that in the 1960s, all of the public holidays had a noticeable impact on daily life. Now, most of them do not apart from the large numbers of people travelling. So do we owe it to each other to continue to impose on ourselves the traditional restrictions, and to do so by law and by the withdrawal of public facilities given that this is the only effective method of imposition? I say no, but those who say yes do have a case.
So is it right that these things should be imposed, or should all laws setting out public holidays and special rules associated with them be abolished? I think the latter, on grounds of individual liberty, but there is a case to be made for the other side.
The case is that those who want the structure and the special days can only have them if most people join in. If there were no laws, many people would not join in. Traditions are not strong enough to do the same job. I remember that in the 1960s, all of the public holidays had a noticeable impact on daily life. Now, most of them do not apart from the large numbers of people travelling. So do we owe it to each other to continue to impose on ourselves the traditional restrictions, and to do so by law and by the withdrawal of public facilities given that this is the only effective method of imposition? I say no, but those who say yes do have a case.
Friday, 23 November 2007
Mad micro-management in further education
Many lecturers in further education are now having to work their way through a new scheme of qualifications. The content is mostly sensible, although grossly over-specified, but the way in which these qualifications are being run is simply appalling.
Take the basic qualification, the PTLLS. Page 16 of this document
www.lifelonglearninguk.org/documents/itt/interim_information.pdf
prescribes 60 hours of learning, of which at least 30 must be guided (ie, in class). This prevents lecturers from completing the course more efficiently if they can. The content is very straightforward, and it would be easy to fit the whole course, including completion of the assignments, into ten hours of reading and writing, with no class time apart from observation of the lecturer in action.
The people behind this nonsense have gone far beyond those who argue that ends can justify means. They have decided to prescribe the means to achieve the end (a certain level of knowledge and skill), regardless of whether there are better means. Charitably, this reflects a culture of wasteful and controlling perfectionism that has long flourished in enterprises subsidised by the taxpayer.
Another example of the same culture can be found in the new professional standards:
www.lifelonglearninguk.org/documents/standards/professional_standards_for_itts_020107.pdf
This worthy 20-page document achieves little more than would be achieved by a postcard to lecturers which said:
Know your subject
Teach it well
Respect your students
But I think we knew that much already.
Take the basic qualification, the PTLLS. Page 16 of this document
www.lifelonglearninguk.org/documents/itt/interim_information.pdf
prescribes 60 hours of learning, of which at least 30 must be guided (ie, in class). This prevents lecturers from completing the course more efficiently if they can. The content is very straightforward, and it would be easy to fit the whole course, including completion of the assignments, into ten hours of reading and writing, with no class time apart from observation of the lecturer in action.
The people behind this nonsense have gone far beyond those who argue that ends can justify means. They have decided to prescribe the means to achieve the end (a certain level of knowledge and skill), regardless of whether there are better means. Charitably, this reflects a culture of wasteful and controlling perfectionism that has long flourished in enterprises subsidised by the taxpayer.
Another example of the same culture can be found in the new professional standards:
www.lifelonglearninguk.org/documents/standards/professional_standards_for_itts_020107.pdf
This worthy 20-page document achieves little more than would be achieved by a postcard to lecturers which said:
Know your subject
Teach it well
Respect your students
But I think we knew that much already.
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