Because people take subjectivism to be such a wildly implausible view they make no effort to see the world from a subjectivist's point of view. Even calling the view "relativism" betrays that - because it imagines a point of view beyond any particular person's perspective, surveys all of them at once, and says "truth for the individual is just what is believed by them, and so truth per se is relative to each individual's beliefs and all beliefs are true for their believers". From this last conjunct objections are drawn out. But from a committed subjectivist's point of view that cannot be right - their point of view is the one from which truth is evaluated, and the other points of view are not on a par with that but simply errors. The objection imagines a kind of God's-eye-perspective on truth and launches their attack from there, but the kind of person who is attracted to subjectivism (or for that matter relativism) is almost certainly the kind of person who is suspicious of the idea of such a God's eye perspective. Seen from within, these objections simply lose their force, they don't take seriously what the subjectivist is trying to do or say as a philosopher of truth.
Of course one can always make the move against the subjectivist that many philosophers now make against the sceptic. One can say that after all our job is not to find arguments that would persuade the subjectivist, our job is just to explain why they are wrong in an internally coherent manner. We wish not to help the subjectivist see their error but just ensure others do not fall into it. Well, good luck and God speed to those whose philosophical mission is explaining why they are right to their own satisfaction. But if you want philosophy to help you enter into the lifeworld of others quite different from yourself, this cannot be enough.--Liam Kofi Bright "Truth Subjectivism and Giving Implausible Views their Due"
Because I am an inconstant skeptic, perhaps, the final three sentences of Liam's essay resonated strongly with me. I cannot tell you how often I have encountered refutations of skepticism (or Hume's problem of induction) where I quietly think 'you [confident, smug X] have not even started to grapple with the problem.' Even the very best efforts that, say, offer an immanent critique of skeptical positions tend to reveal primarily that it is very difficult to be a (certain kind of) skeptic consistently. This is treated as an objection. But, duh, 'I already know sense how difficult it is to be me.' That the non-skeptic has a more satisfying life is good for her.
I often complain that in professional philosophy there is a tendency to cherry pick objections (often correlated with the perceived status of another philosopher).+ I often claim that we ought to have a norm that we seek out alternative viewpoints and the strongest possible objections from perspectives distinct from ours. When I do this, I basically tacitly embrace a partially agonistic model of philosophy. The idea being that philosophical development is enhanced when we have rival viewpoints come into combative contact with each other and are improved by their mutual agonistic albeit genuine engagement.
As others have noted (see here Michael Della Rocca), the methods of reflective equilibrium, intuition mongering, and cost-benefit analysis of theoretical virtues have enormous status quo even confirmation bias built into them. What I'd like to see is a lot more of a kind of stress testing of concepts (see this paper by Stone, which is suggestive). This would shift us from a confirming bias, to a more (ahh) Popperian ethos. (The interesting Popper, not falsificationism.) If mirabile dictu I were to get my way on this, it would only make philosophy more robust.
By contrast, Liam's post (which echoes the loveliest parts of Carnap's program with a surprisingly Husserlian/Levinasian sensibility) opens the door to a much more humanistic understanding of philosophy. The very point of the enterprise would be to facilitate mutual understanding. From the philosophical analyst's perspective the point of analysis or conceptual engineering, then, is not getting the concepts right (or to design them for ameliorative and feasible political programs), but to find ways to understand, or enter into, one's interlocutor life world. To see how radical this is, I just want to note the contrast with the other humanistic ethos of philosophy as a means to self-knowledge often inscribed (with a nod to Socrates or Descartes) with the slogan that the unexamined life is not worth living,
To be sure, philosophical-translators (recall, when I discussed the transformative effects of entering into another's life-world) and historians of philosophy of a certain sensibility are quite practiced in developing skills to enter into the life-worlds of philosophers from different epochs. And precisely to generate some such understanding, I have argued that we (speaking briefly as a historian of philosophy) must reject actor's categories as well as the (imperialistic) application of our own categories, but must be willing to introduce or coin new concepts. (That's a creative and risky practice.) But because our subjects don't talk back, historians can pick to be interested in a very narrow range of the life-world of another.
Liam's program -- conceptual engineering to enter into lifeworlds of others -- has some fascinating consequences. First, it would open the door to structural collaboration between ethnographic researchers and philosophers. Let's call that (with a nod to my colleague, Enzo Rossi) in honor of the developing interdisciplinary research community PPA+ (that is, philosophy, politics, anthropology). Second, given the increasing cosmopolitan presence of professional philosophy across the globe, and cultural diversification within philosophy, it would generate ambitious, open-ended research programs of bridging attempts among different philosophical cultures, traditions, and research programs. (In addition to Liam's work in Africana philosophy, I think Graham Priest's work are paradigmatic examples of this.)*
There is a lot more to be said about both consequences. But I just want to note two side effects of the second: (i) it would help limit the known risk of philosophy facilitating imperial and hegemonic projects in which our concepts become a form of domination (recall this post; or see the work of Serene Khader (recall).) And (ii) it would be a generative source of philosophical innovation.
To be sure, conceptual engineering to enter into lifeworlds of others is risky: one may be exposed to stuff one prefers not to hear (including for reasons of tact or respect); and one may end up in a philosophical place different from the one was satisfied to defend at all cost.
+This is not entirely silly. The high status philosopher often has sensible positions. But it's the very sensible-ness that is part of the present problem.
I am not sure it is best to think our goal should be to convince those who disagree with us. It may be good enough to just identify where we disagree. People have different goals so it makes sense that they will disagree about the importance of different arguments.
Posted by: Joe McCarron | 02/13/2020 at 04:43 PM
I don't you disagree with Liam, really. The fundamental aim is to facilitate mutual understanding. To identify where we disagree is conducive to that.
But if -- ignoring the wisdom of Liam's position -- one is in the business of refuting others, one should aim to be convincing to them.
Posted by: Eric Schliesser | 02/13/2020 at 05:29 PM