What seemingly unites commentaries to texts, annotated editions and translations or reviews is that they focus on the presentation of the ideas of others. Thus, my hunch is that we seem to think more highly of people presenting their own ideas than those presenting the ideas of others. In a recent blog post, Peter Adamson notes the following:
Looking at ancient, medieval and even early modern traditions, the obsession with what counts as originality is an anomaly indeed. I say “obsession” because this trend is quite harmful. Not only does it impoverish our philosophical knowledge and skills, it also destroys a necessary division of labour. Why on earth should every one of us toss out “original claims” by the minute? Why not think hard about what other people wrote for a change? Why not train your philosophical chops by doing a translation? Of course the idea that originality consists in expressing one’s own ideas is fallacious anyway, since thinking is dialogical. If we stop trying to understand and uncover other texts, outside of our paper culture, our thinking will become more and more self-referential and turn into a freely spinning wheel… I’m exaggerating of course, but perhaps only a bit. We don’t even need the medieval commentary traditions to remind ourselves. Just remember that it was, amongst other things, Chomsky’s review of Skinner that changed the field of linguistics. Today, writing reviews, working on editions and translations doesn’t get you a grant, let alone a job. While we desperately need new editions, translations and materials for research and teaching, these works are esteemed more like a pastime or retirement hobby.
Of course, many if not most of us know that this monoculture is problematic. I just don’t know how we got there that quickly. When I began to study, the work on editions and translations still seemed to flourish, at least in Germany. But it quickly died out, history of philosophy was abandoned or ‘integrated’ in positions in theoretical or practical philosophy, and many people who then worked very hard on the texts that are available in shiny editions are now without a job.
If we go on like this, we’ll soon find that no one will be able to read or work on past texts. We should then teach our students that real philosophy didn’t begin to evolve before 1970 anyway. Until it gets that bad I would plead for reintroducing a sensible division of labour, both in research and teaching. If you plan your assignments next time, don’t just offer your students to write an essay. Why not have them choose between an annotated translation, a careful commentary on a difficult passage or a review? Oh, of course, they may write an essay, too. But it’s just one of many philosophical genres, many more than I listed here.--Martin Lenz "Philosophical genres. A response to Peter Adamson"
Of course, quite a few people think little philosophy before 1970, and not much since it and, say, 1990, is worth reading. And, in fact, as long as you are in the grip of contemporary standards of rigor, much of the older work, and even quite a bit of the recent stuff, will seem comically badly argued. The few works to the contrary prove that ceteribus paribus in philosophy rigor is a function of the number of generations that have been permitted to develop a view/paradigm, distinction, position, etc.
Be that as it may, neither Lenz, in his response to Adamson (which is promoting a volume he edited on Averroes/Ibn Rushd--and which, amusingly, wishes to draw attention to his ample talents beyond being a skilled commentator),* nor Adamson, really historicize the shift away from valuing the skilled presentation and (re-)interpretation of other people's works to valuing originality and (somewhat less) individuality. So here goes (in a few hundred words):
It's common to credit Montaigne for introducing individuality/personality into philosophy (at least in the European branch). If you think Socrates and Cicero are hyper-individualized personalities, feel free to rewrite the previous sentence. (If you think Zhuangzi is the first real personality; fine!) But since Montaigne was not a professor nor a monk, it was relatively easy for him to get away to obsess about himself. Most of the major early modern thinkers we still read and teach [Bacon, Descartes, Hobbes, Margaret Cavendish, Locke, Hume, Mandeville, Toland, De Grouchty, etc. ] -- and some of whom present a quite distinct authorial persona and claim non-trivial originality -- stayed outside of the academy. The exception to the rule is Leibniz, who was deeply original and often tried to present it as originating elsewhere. Of course, there were many generations of novatores such that they became, in part, a type or old hat (grin).
Some scholars will claim that the focus of originality and connecting it to genius is a romantic invention. But we see hints of it already when Adam Smith praises "the original and inventive genius of the English has not only discovered itself in natural philosophy, but in morals, metaphysics, and part of the abstract sciences." (This is from an early 1757 piece, Letter to the Edinburgh Review, usually attributed to him.) It's clear that Smith allows different kind of genius, including un-inventive ones; but the focus is already decidedly on the original inventive kind.
I mention Smith, because the division of labor and competitive market mechanisms generate open-ended novelty (an older school may say, generates open ended sources of wonder), including technological novelty. I don't deny that one could say the same thing of the institution of science, which has become an astounding novelty generator (second only to technology). That is to say, professional philosophy's changing mode of presentation and sources of value within have copied the characteristics of the surrounding society. (That's true even if some philosophers have something to do with the popularity of the division of labor and competitive markets.)
The point I am hinting at is that professional philosophy is, in so far as the universities in which it is embedded are reliant on outside sources of funding. non-autonomous and inevitably takes on characteristics of its surrounding society. To challenge the one-sided focus on novelty is, in part, a demand of a form autonomy that is out of reach (except if you have a great endowment and terrific tenure, etc.) As regular readers know, I fully endorse grasping the impossible, and so hence in these digressions I often adopt the commentary format, Q.E.D.
*My own view, f.w.i.w., is that even where Ibn Rushd is explicitly commenting, he tends to be incredibly ingenious and innovative. (I have tried to argue this in a few blog posts on his commentary on Plato's Republic.)
And if the surrounding society doesn’t allow to do proper philosophy according to your idea how things should be done, then perhaps it is time to stop trying to be a philosopher (that’s me and sociology couple of years ago, now I am a happy computer programmer)?
Posted by: Matěj Cepl | 11/12/2019 at 08:44 AM