Are some ideas so offensive that they shouldn’t be engaged with? That question occupies scholars a lot these days, and tends to generate a predictably polarized set of responses — from those who opine that snowflake millennials are destroying free speech to those who call for the retraction of journal articles for ideological (among other) reasons. Meanwhile, I find myself lost somewhere in the middle, attempting to understand my own decisions...
An idealistic model of academic liberalism says that we should engage with all ideas, no matter what. Truth is its own defense! We have
nothing to fear from ideas, even those we find offensive! And so on. I would love it if this were true, but it has always seemed like nonsense to me.Saying why, though, is tricky. It’s not merely that I’m confident the conclusion is false. I’m a philosopher — I spend lots of time entertaining ideas I’m pretty sure are false, and it’s part of the ethos of my discipline that this is a worthwhile activity. It’s also not that I think the conclusion is morally wrong or could have morally bad consequences. That’s true of many ideas that are obviously worth engaging with...
The pro-rape argument is different because I can’t see how the benefits of discussing it outweigh the harms. Perhaps the argument is clever or original, but let’s be honest — there’s a limited amount of intellectual value in any one argument. If I want to take up a challenging and interesting argument, I can pick one of the thousands of other challenging, interesting arguments out there. So the benefits of engaging with a pro-rape argument are minimal. The harms, though, are not. Taking seriously an argument that justifies rape has the potential to cause intense pain to victims of rape, not to mention the potential to promote rape. Citing ideas, discussing them, responding to them is a type of scholarly currency. It’s academic signal-boosting...Most people would, of course, be far too polite to say what Singer says. But Singer’s claims about the comparative value of disabled lives follow naturally from the casual remarks that disabled people and caregivers hear all the time...
I seriously doubt that the well-intentioned people who say these things would endorse Singer’s conclusions. But Singer is right that his conclusions flow straightforwardly from these sorts of common claims. For this reason, I find myself strangely grateful for the brutal honesty of Peter Singer. He says explicitly what others only gesture at implicitly.
People worry that grappling with offensive views gives them undue legitimacy. But in the case of someone like Singer, those views have legitimacy whether or not I choose to engage with them. To state the obvious, the arguments of the Ira W. DeCamp Professor of Bioethics at Princeton University are going to matter whether or not I pay attention to them. But more importantly, Singer’s views already have legitimacy because people will continue to think about disability in ways directly relevant to Singer’s arguments regardless of whether progressive academics decide those arguments are simply too offensive to be discussed. (After all, as Singer himself wryly notes, the sales of Practical Ethics tend to increase whenever there are calls to “no platform” his talks.) Even Singer’s views on infant euthanasia aren’t a dystopian thought experiment. At least one major European country (The Netherlands) openly practices infanticide in some cases of disability.
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As a full professor, I have an incredible amount of social privilege compared with most disabled people (large percentages of whom are unemployed and live below the poverty line)...Given all this, it’s hard for me to justify the idea that I shouldn’t engage with Peter Singer. Do Singer’s views make me uncomfortable? Yes, deeply so. But probably not as uncomfortable as they make people living with spinabifida in the Netherlands, given the Netherlands’ policy on infant euthanasia in cases of spina bifida.And unlike others more directly affected, it is literally my job to think and talk about difficult ideas. The discomfort and hurt when dealing with views like Singer’s are real. But if I’m unwilling to take on a measure of discomfort, given how much privilege I have and how little I have to lose, then I’m not sure I’m using the privilege of an academic life the way I ought to be.
The value of struggling with Singer’s ideas doesn’t negate the real and material costs, but it does offset them. And in a piece of utilitarian reasoning that Singer himself would approve of, to me the trade off seems worth it. Prejudice is often held subtly, implicitly, or without much reflection. By giving us clear and well-defined arguments, thinkers like Singer lay bare the case for views which many people hold. Once that case is laid out, it’s much easier to begin the work of pointing out its flaws.--Elizabeth Barnes "Arguments That Harm — and Why We Need Them" The Chronicle Review. [HT Liam Kofi Bright & Justin Weinberg @Dailynous.]
While there is a lot more to Barnes's article, the underlying argument has a few key components:
- (i) there is a cost-benefit analysis of both (a) engaging with particular position/speech and (b) the consequences of leaving some speech/idea unchallenged. Barnes notes (c) that the harms and benefits can fall unequally on society, on vulnerable populations, and individual academics. Conjoined with such cost-benefit analysis is the idea that
- (ii) there are opportunity costs in engaging with a project. Time and attention are scarce resources. So not all ideas can be engaged with it and engaging with some means that other perhaps worthier projects are potentially slowed down or prevented.
- (iii) There is path-dependency/historical legacy: some views are already in the culture and/or have legitimacy regardless of what philosophers do/say.
- (iv) Status plays a role in who puts a particular idea forth and who is worth responding to.
- (v) Professional philosophy is (in part) grappling with difficult (and false) ideas.
- (vi) Privilege or noblesse oblige creates a duty of taking on unpleasant tasks on behalf of (more vulnerable, less secure, etc.) others.
- (vii) Brutal honesty & clarity in arguments are taken as intellectual virtues such that flaws can be exposed.
Each of these steps is cashed out in subtle ways, so that there are a lot of moving but also mutually reinforcing parts in the argument. (That's not meant as a criticism.) It means one can accept Barnes’s conclusions without agreeing with all the moving parts, or demur from some of the conclusions and still accept most of the moving parts. (Again, that’s not a criticism.) There is also another principle which Barnes rejects (as ‘nonsense’):
- (viii) An ‘idealistic model of academic liberalism,’ which says that ‘we should engage with all ideas, no matter what.’
I also reject (viii; which to repeat, Barnes rejects). But I do so because it misrepresents liberalism and also academic liberalism. What I'd like to do here (and, perhaps another post) is ground my response to Barnes in our shared rejection of (viii) and embrace of (i) & (ii). But I will do so on liberal (even classically liberal) grounds and along the way say something about (v; vi; viii). What follows is not meant as a criticism of Barnes's engagement with Singer, but I wish to show that there is something to be said for non-engagement with offensive ideas, even the acceptance of taboos; undoubtedly that will not persuade many, but along the way I would also like to argue for shifting the burdens of who ought to respond to who around a bit (again on liberal grounds).
Liberalism, it’s true, has always been a theory that has been suspicious of government regulation of speech; but it also has been accommodating of exceptions to this (including ones relating to public health, the content of advertising, public safety, incitement to violence, etc.). Of course, the exceptions are contested and differ among broadly liberal jurisdictions and situated liberal political thought. But the exceptions are often motivated by other liberal commitments (including the harm principle (recall), commitments to equality and freedom, and public welfare).
More important, for present purposes, liberalism has also always been welcoming of non-governmental restrictions on speech. This is grounded in prudence, kindness, the harm principle, and the benefits of cooperation. This is so obvious that it is kind of weird philosophers keep forgetting it. For example, even in my famously forthright home-country of the Netherlands, brutal honesty is, in fact, not always encouraged say among business partners, friends, married couples, or teachers and students (more about that below). In ordinary life people everywhere routinely and completely un-problematically engage in self-censorship in all kinds of ways without thereby promoting falsehood or violating any tenet of liberalism. In fact, liberalism assumes that in pluralistic societies, we kind of adopt a live-and-let-live attitude in which we do not confront each other all the time with our sincerely held views. (That's also compatible with rejecting or embracing demands of public reason.) This means that we are expected to self-censor all the time in complex, liberal societies--it is no surprise that the weather, sports, and vapid celebrities are safe conversation starters.
Critics of liberalism, inspired by Foucault and Marcuse, have derogatory names – ‘disciplining,’ ‘bio-politics’ ‘repressive tolerance’ (etc.) -- for such self-censoring practices. And undoubtedly sometimes, perhaps often, the monitoring effects of public opinion, locally and nationally, can be stifling in ways that Mill already diagnosed and alerted us to. But at the same time, norms that restrict speech deemed imprudent or offensive have many positive effects, including reducing coordination costs, facilitating reliable expectations (crucial to justice), and facilitating exchange of ideas and goods. This is not a bug in liberalism, but a core feature of it. For liberalism does not treat speech as harmless or epi-phenomenal to social order—on the liberal view speech is constitutive of our political life (see Levy). But that also means that its impact on others is to be taken seriously; the harm principle is as deeply entrenched in liberalism as the suspicion of government regulation of speech. This is why liberals find nothing silly about concern over, say, systematic micro-aggression (recall here and here). From a liberal's perspective: just because one has a right to offend others does not mean one ought to be offensive.
It does not mean, of course, that such norms (including ones that regulate sexual affairs, dress-codes, civility etc.) can’t be interrogated or challenged [regular readers know (recall here and here) that, inspired by work of Ed Kazarian and Leigh Johnson, I am no friend of civility when it is imposed by institutions], but it does not follow that norms restricting speech are de facto illiberal. In fact, the liberal spirit encourages experimentation with different norms alongside a strong norm of individual responsibility. Obviously, that’s not the end of the matter; it’s quite clear that liberal political economy, and the profit motive (alongside political aspirations) in particular, have encouraged the media to promote all kinds of valuable forms of self-expression as well as irresponsible speech by individuals on social media and internet. This raises important and uncomfortable questions for liberalism and liberal democracy; but the response is not limited to faith in providence that in the long run speech works out fine.
As an aside, it's important that Barnes reminds the reader of the real world consequences of philosophical ideas. It's undoubtedly true that public policy in the Netherlands has a pro-eugenic bias*--one promoted, in fact, not so much by ethicists but by the medical community of OBGYN practitioners and pediatricians (although there is always an ethicists available to lend a hand) -- and that Dutch public policy on disability is problematic--in Holland disability is made invisible in lots of ways. But it's also the case that due to cheap and easy access to various forms of screening and abortion, "infant euthanasia in cases of spina bifida" (which is indeed allowed under the so-called Groningen protocol) is now de facto non-existent in the Netherlands because parents choose not to bring such infants to term.
Okay, let me return to the main argument. I have noted above that liberalism does not embrace (viii). The same is true for academic liberalism. Building on work by Jacob Levy (recall), I have argue that the mission of academic life and education is compatible with a whole range of limitations of speech. These limitations need not be uniform; they can be varied in the classroom, seminar settings, public debates, commencement addresses (etc.) and the particular local missions of the academic institutions. In fact, even universities that pride themselves on their freedom of thought are careful not to be seen as places where, say, astrology or Cartesian vortex theory and a whole bunch of other discarded or wacky ideas are discussed and debated in all seriousness. (That’s compatible with promoting scholarship about them!) Universities self-censor in the curriculum and are very attentive to reputational costs. The same is true of all kinds of noxious political ideas—a cranky professor with insipid views can be tolerated, of course, but colleagues and administrators are careful to avoid amplifying their platforms all the time. People exercise good judgment in these matters all the time. This – restraint and good judgment -- are not just compatible with academic liberalism; the whole point of liberalism is to promote institutions where individuals and communities can exercise good judgment. (Of course, one generation’s good judgment may well be the next generation’s discarded dogma.)
In fact, and this gets me to (v) academics of all disciplines recognize that (academic) taboos make progress possible (recall here; here, and here).+ Journals and disciplines often treat some issues as closed or not worth engaging with. Graduate advisors steer people away from unpromising projects all the time. As Kuhn taught philosophy, a paradigm may well include commitments that are only challenged in extreme circumstances but otherwise ignored (and legitimately ignored according to standard Kuhnianism); I have expressed reservations about the legitimacy of ignoring objections or treating some heterodox views as worth excluding. But the practice exists widely. Professional philosophers ignore objections all the time (often based on considerations of status or of perceived signficance of the objection) including in Q&A. In fact, I have come to suspect that one way one becomes a high status professional philosopher is to learn to ignore smoothly objections from lower status peers rather than to try make sure that the best objection to one's views is jointly articulated. If you have never witnessed this, you probably engage in it yourself.:)
What does this amount to? Academic liberalism embraces the legitimacy of taboos and norms of responsible speech. More recent liberalism (thanks to work by Fricker, Dotson, etc.) is increasingly attentive to how the benefits and costs of speech are distributed; we frown on punching down and victim blaming; we worry about speech that puts further (social, political, and economic) burdens or opportunity costs on those that lack resources or skills; thanks to Heather Douglas we worry again about social consequences of even truthful scientific speech.
Let me now turn to (vii). Professional philosophy has been rather self-indulgent during the last century: leading journals have allowed and even rewarded (perhaps sincere) debate on infanticide, disenfranchisement, torture, etc.; our profession has lionized conceptions of international justice, technocratic solutions to environmental problems, and humanitarian interventions where the down-side risks of implementation are always put on (poorer, darker-skinned, etc.) folk who do not have a seat at the table (recall). When one complains about this, a philosopher's instinct is to claim that she has no responsibility for the application of her ideas--that entirely predictable misapplications of ideas are irrelevant to (core) philosophy. Cui Bono?
Our pedagogic practices have embraced the value of presenting carefully argued papers for morally shocking conclusions as a means to ‘stimulate conversation’ in the class room. Not unlike the media we often prefer to teach by way of polarized debate. It's such a pedagogic culture that welcomes the class room discussion of powerful arguments for awful conclusions. I could see why this is good training for future lawyers and top 20 philosophers; but it really is not a good training for citizenship or the art of living (even if it can be instrumentally useful at times); we learned from Eric Schwitzgebel it does not promote ethical behavior.
We constantly forget it is not a virtue but a deformation of professional philosophy that it often accords so much respect to arguments and clarity that if one argues carefully one's views are taken seriously regardless of the social consequences of these views or, for that matter, the moral truth of these views. (Of course, if one thinks -- as I do not -- that only argument can establish a moral truth, so much the worse for you!) To note this is not to be a critic of argument (or a friend of Heidegger or poetic philosophy). But as Barnes notes often the only benefit of taking an argument seriously is one internal to the credit economy of the profession or the academy (iv). But no profession is self-justifying in that way. (That's to say I distinguish between the profession and philosophy.)
Barnes seems to think that because (recall (iii) & (vii)) Singer systematizes and articulates clearly what people already think in our culture (and that he has high status (iv)) his views on disability should be taken seriously. This I find very peculiar. Lots of ordinary views do not merit systematization or articulation. There is nothing wrong with ignoring ordinary folk's commitment to various forms of astrology and soothsaying; some of these have a great impact on people's moral lives. [And, yes, I am aware that Singer has been very important in teaching all of us the significance of animal welfare.] Lots of people are racists in various ways. What's the benefit of articulating the view in clear steps? Why should we grapple with racial eugenics (outside of its history and political economy)? There is no obligation to continue every debate with, say, Charles Murray, especially because he has never really responded to the important technical criticism of his work. Singer is, of course, a much better and more honest thinker than Murray. But given the distribution of power and resources, the responsibility to engage with critics and to prevent dangerous uptake of his ideas is clearly on Singer's side not the more vulnerable populations.
Let me close (for today). Barnes has every right to engage with Singer and she may well be right that good will come out of it. I wouldn't be surprised it will make her views (which, recall I admire)** more subtle and fine-grained. But I wonder why we really need to engage in intellectual activities that will continue to entrench his views on disability as central and worth grappling with when there is so much constructive and policy work to do.
*I have editorialized against this.
+Utiliarianism is, of course, compatible with the embrace of taboos; they follow naturally from Singer's own arguments [with De Lazari-Radek] for his version of Government House Utilitarianism.
**It was part of a series of posts.
Thank you for a deep reflection on a very interesting article. My comment focuses on v and vii.
I'm sure quite a lot of people go into professional philosophy because they realize they have something to contribute to constructive work and policy work. But I'd wager this is the minority. More generally, people are (or were) simply drawn to the challenge of dealing with interesting problems. Such challenges become all the more acute, when the idea in question is something they'd rather not accept as true, and when the mooted argument has the clarity and plausibility of, say, Singer. "Something must have gone wrong, what is it?"
What is the alternative to not taking up the challenge? Does it not reduce philosophy to mere rhetoric* in support of pre-theoretic views (of some) - or perhaps, to nibbling around the edges?** There simply must be hard problems, if philosophy is to be worthwhile at all. And to be a hard problem is to countenance at least the possibility that "intuitively" false (even abhorrent) views may be true - and further, may be plausible. If the self-indulgent is merely discussion of what we already know, pre-theoretically, to be false, then it is a waste of time. What, then, do we need philosophy for? We have the answers already.
*How else should we characterize hiding the truth (or outright lying) to get the desired social consequences? To worry about the consequences is of course appropriate. But are we to take these as definitive?
**Shall we leave such challenges to junior faculty at non-R1 institutions (lest they be read by those who might be influenced in the wrong direction)? Such writing is (happily?) ignored, and thus safe.
Posted by: ajkreider | 03/03/2018 at 03:49 AM