[R]efusing to engage with those who don’t share some of your basic assumptions – simply because you don’t think such engagement is worthwhile or likely to be productive – has a long and storied tradition in philosophy. From Hume consigning metaphysics to the flames, to the logical positivists hating on pretty much everything, to David Lewis greeting paraconsistent logic with a blank stare – this is something that philosophers do. You have to start somewhere and you have to take some things as obvious. For a lot of women, especially those who do feminist philosophy, these starting points include the importance of gender and gender equality. It’s hard to see why there’s anything wrong – or at least anything philosophically unusual – with that.--Magical Ersatz "Is feminist philosophy too political? (Or: Is feminist philosophy motivated by a political agenda?)" [Part 2 has also appeared.]
While I would encourage everybody to read the whole series of posts, I would like to register some reservations about the refusal "to engage with those who don’t share some of your basic assumptions" bit above. One ought not hold feminist philosophy to higher standards than other philosophers. But, I am not doing that; as a matter of fact, I have already complained about precisely this feature in Ted Sider's "knee-jerk-realism" and in Williamson's programmatic statements about modal logic as metaphysics.
First, we ought to distinguish among (i) one's starting places; (ii) the things one takes as obvious; (iii) opposing positions one refuses to engage with. While (i) and (ii) may coincide, I would hope that ideally commitment to (i) is provisional and (ii) is a hard-won, earned philosophical result. I recognize that in various methods popular in the common-sense and reflective equilibrium strains of analytical philosophy (ii) may never be questioned, but that's a weakness of analytical philosophy for it leads to a status quo bias* (something that feminism helps us combat). Obviously we are very far removed from gender equality, so -- in practice -- feminism is no friend of the status quo. But the playful, and obviously not entirely serious, equivocation between 'not unusual' and 'not wrong' is an instance of some such status quo bias.
Now, it is characteristic of a school and school-formation that one refuses to engage with known opposing positions, or that when one does so one only engages with a limited, sub-class of opposing positions, or by way of stock-answers. Despite the criticism that follows philosophical schools are good for philosophy (up to a degree); they are especially useful when an intellectual community is still developing. As Magical E. argues, feminism "is a relatively new discipline" still "trying to figure out the dialectical terrain." Opposing views can be a great distraction; so it can be useful to temporarily ignore known objections. Fair enough.
Yet, the stated particular feature that Hume, the Logical Positivists, and Lewis have in common is really (really) not the best thing about them.** While I don't think of the Viennese logical positivists as haters (in the manner of Ayer), it is clear that their dismissiveness toward a lot of projects also impoverished their conceptual tool-kit. (But note that it was Carnap that explored modality against the ridicule of Quine.) The predictable consequence was that they were not a very enduring tradition because unable to draw on other people's insights. (Formal philosophy has, of course, been revived in very creative ways.)
For, by engaging critically with the most fundamental arguments of those that really do not share one's views one can actually strengthen one's position (philosophically and rhetorically) by learning to anticipate objections, block certain moves, and discern one's weaknesses. That's not why I advocate doing so, but it's an important benefit.
Moreover, the refusal-to-engage-stance encourages sectarian dismissiveness of others. I grant that it is not feminists and the marginalized, more generally, that should be responsible for creating philosophical meeting points with the most unpleasant views among us; there is no reason to seek out jerks and respectfully listen to them. But we shouldn't foreclose encounters with opposing others either. For, it's not just that those that have defended hierarchy and inequality also have had a decent track record at exposing the self-delusions and internal tensions of those of us that defend equality (of various stripes). It's rather that all deeply-held intellectual positions tend to draw on enduring and recurring human needs and impulses that, however wrong the positions, need to be recognized rather than screened off. Pandora's box has been opened, and if we close the lid we lock away hope.
Finally, it is a bit awkward for a group that recognizes itself as marginal to embrace the 'refusal to engage' doctrine as legitimate practice. For, one obvious reason for the existing marginalization is precisely the (misguided) refusal by the institutionally powerful to engage with feminism (or simply unfashionable positions) without shame and embarrassment.
Rather, I advocate the following norm, that one ought to seek out and engage known objections and known alternatives -- and even strengthen them; this would enliven and enrich professional philosophy and be a way to ensure that valuable insights of the presently not-so-popular are not enduringly silenced or ignored. Either way, I certainly also deny that one ought to dismiss feminist philosophy because of an embrace, if it is one, of a 'refusal to engage those that do not share basic assumptions' stance--that much must be conceded to Magical.
*See this paper by Michael Della Rocca.
** Arguably, too, the three cases are also different. Hume, who was an institutional outsider, offers his admonishment at the end of a book in which had engaged with opposing views. To be clear: in the earlier book, Treatise, the engagement had been more extensive and more subtle. By contrast, whatever Lewis's (incredulous not "blank") stare really intended to convey, it is also an expression of institutional confidence; he can afford to say nothing in the way paradigmatic-Kings (in Kuhn's sense) can afford to ignore objections. Of course, his own modal realism was received with similar such stares, so it's further possible that he was being playfully ironic. The
Interesting post, Eric!
Of course the main point I was making was that feminist philosophy isn't unique (though it does often seem to be uniquely dismissed) in sometimes refusing to engage with those that don't share a few very basic assumptions. This is something philosophers do all the time, feminist or not.
But I'm also sympathetic to the idea that there's nothing particularly wrong with doing this (and, even more strongly, that doing so may well be inevitable, given our epistemic limitations). There are some conversations that are just very unlikely to be productive, because the parties involved can't even agree about how to have the conversation or what the rules of the conversation are. (This was, I take it, Lewis's basic point about paraconsistent logic. Lewis understands how to do philosophy such that winding up committed to a contradiction means you've clearly gone wrong and need to start over. The dialetheist doesn't. How can these to parties have a useful conversation?)
I guess I don't think there's anything at all wrong with, at some points, just throwing up your hands and saying "okay, this view isn't a view I can engage with!" Now, I'm sure you're right that some philosophers probably do this all too often. (Indeed, there are philosophers famous for not being able to 'understand' basically any view but their own - and that seems a little extreme, to say the least.) But doing this on some occasions, in some contexts, strikes me as perfectly justifiable and something we probably all do. Even you, Eric! (I'm willing to bet you wouldn't find it very useful to talk to someone convinced that Derrida's approach to the history of philosophy is the only worthwhile one, for example.)
It's funny that you bring up Sider's comments on 'knee-jerk realism' - I'm talking about these in the next post in this series. I disagree with you fairly strongly, I think, about whether Sider is doing anything philosophically suspect in that passage. And I'd gently suggest that your comments on that passage - some of which I think are quite uncharitable to Sider and what he's saying there - reveal a fair bit about your own philosophical presuppositions. (And yes, I really do think you have them too. So do I! I think we all do.)
But to be clear, I wasn't suggesting that anyone throw anything into any kind of flame. I just think that not engaging with people you think you really can't talk productively with is extremely common in philosophy, and it's not at all clear to me that it's bad.
Posted by: magicalersatz | 09/11/2014 at 02:13 PM
Yes, Magical, we agree that (a) not engaging with others because it wouldn't be 'productive' and (b) dismissing feminism is all-too-common. I would suggest that what these two have in common is a bad/harmful conception of philosophy and institutional features of professional philosophy. (Obviously they are also other factors which may not be shared by (a) and (b); (b) almost certainly involves explicit or tacit sexism.) It strikes me that by embracing (a) feminist thought may well become professional philosophy in our contemporary sense but it will assimilate some of the bad features of contemporary philosophy (a status quo bias, an inability to seek out and learn from marginalized views, a focus on fashion, etc.).
I would not deny that I have philosophical presuppositions and that these are revealed by my engagements with others. I would like to learn more about how I was uncharitable to Sider. (At the time there were robust discussions of my posts on his book.) For what it's worth, I am not against being uncharitable if in doing so one reveals a feature that is really present and that otherwise gets overlooked (or ignored out of a desire for productive engagement). But I still look forward to your posts.
Just as a biographical fact: I have found it very useful to talk to someone convinced that Derrida's approach to the history of philosophy is extremely worthwhile (not sure I heard a uniqueness claim from him), and reflecting on this experience led me to start to notice my biases and prejudices in what I take to be worth engaging with. (No, I have not been convinced I should only take Derrida's approach seriously.)
Posted by: Eric Schliesser | 09/12/2014 at 07:16 AM