Digressions&Impressions

Foucault on the Idea of Europe (and Adam Smith, Hume & Kant), Part 1

So we find this idea, which will be at the center of the economic game as defined by the liberals, that actually the enrichment of one country, like the enrichment of one individual, can only really be established and maintained in the long term by a mutual enrichment...Consequently there is a correlative, enrichment, an enrichment en bloc; a regional enrichment: either the whole of Europe will be rich, or the whole of Europe will be poor. There is no longer any cake to be divided up. We enter an age of an economic historicity governed by, if not unlimited enrichment, then at least reciprocal enrichment through the game of competition.
I think something very important begins to take shape here, the consequences of which are, as you know, far from being exhausted. What is taking shape is a new idea of Europe that is not at all the imperial and Carolingian Europe more or less inherited from the Roman Empire and referring to quite specific political structures...It is a Europe of collective enrichment; Europe as a collective subject that, whatever the competition between states, or rather through the competition between states, has to advance in the form of unlimited economic progress.
This idea of progress, of a European progress, is a fundamental theme in liberalism and completely overturns the themes of European equilibrium, even though these themes do not disappear completely. With this conception of the physiocrats and Adam Smith we leave behind a conception of the economic game as a zero sum game. But if it is no longer to be a zero sum game, then permanent and continuous inputs are still necessary. In other words, if freedom of the market must ensure the reciprocal, correlative, and more or less simultaneous enrichment of all the countries of Europe, for this to function, and for freedom of the market to thus unfold according to a game that is not a zero sum game, then it is necessary to summon around Europe, and for Europe, an increasingly extended market and even, if it comes to it, everything in the world that can be put on the market. In other words, we are invited to a globalization of the market when it is laid down as a principle, and an objective, that the enrichment of Europe must be brought about as a collective and unlimited enrichment, and not through the enrichment of some and the impoverishment of others. The unlimited character of the economic development of Europe, and the consequent existence of a non-zero sum game, entails, of course, that the whole world is summoned around Europe to exchange its own and Europe's products in the European market.
Of course, I do not mean that this is the first time that Europe thinks about the world, or thinks the world. I mean simply that this may be the first time that Europe appears as an economic unit, as an economic subject in the world, or considers the world as able to be and having to be its economic domain. It seems to me that it is the first time that Europe appears in its own eyes as having to have the world for its unlimited market. Europe is no longer merely covetous of all the world's riches that sparkle in its dreams or perceptions. Europe is now in a state of permanent and collective enrichment through its own competition, on condition that the entire world becomes its market. In short, in the time of mercantilism, raison d'Etat, and the police state, etcetera, the calculation of a European balance enabled one to block the consequences of an economic game conceived as being over. Now the opening up of a world market allows one to continue the economic game and consequently to avoid the conflicts which derive from a finite market. But this opening of the economic game onto the world dearly implies a difference of both kind and status between Europe and the rest of the world. That is to say, there will be Europe on one side, with Europeans as the players, and then the world on the other, which will he the stake. The game is in Europe, but the stake is the world.
It seems to me that we have in this one of the fundamental features of this new art of government that is indexed to the problem of the market and market veridiction. Obviously, this organization, or at any rate this reflection on the reciprocal positions of Europe and the world, is not the start of colonization. Colonization had long been underway. Nor do I think this is the start of imperialism in the modem or contemporary sense of the term, for we probably see the formation of this new imperialism later in the nineteenth century. But let's say that we have the start of a new type of global calculation in European governmental practice. I think there are many signs of this appearance of a new form of global rationality, of a new calculation on the scale of the world.--Michel Foucault, 24 January 1979, The Birth of Biopolitics. 54-6

Foucault correctly discern the significance of Kant's Perpetual Peace to Ordoliberal thought (recall here; here; here). (He mentions Kant's essay on the following page, and he begins to develops his idea about the Ordos in the subsequent lecture on 31 January.) While it is not surprising Addison is ignored, it is a bit surprising that Hume goes unmentioned because his essays on "The Balance of Trade" and "The Jealousy of Trade" are key steps in the positions described by Foucault. In particular, "The Balance of Trade" explicitly adopts a European stance (and contrasts Europe with China, in particular [recall this post]).*

One way to put Foucault's point in Schmittian terms he does not use is that once the non-zero-sum logic of mutual gains of trade is accepted as state policy, enemies can be transformed into possible mere rivals. Rivals can be genuine competitors in one sense, but since they are playing the same game also partners of a certain sort. And this transformation entails the possibility of permanent self-limitation in foreign affairs, even a route toward confederation (or "ever closer union"). I use the language of possibility because subsequent history suggests the temptation of continental-wide conquest does not disappear altogether. 

The significance of all of this is that foreign affairs is transformed from the Hobbesian state of nature to something distinctive. Foucault emphasizes the development of a species of "global rationality" (there are shades of Hegel here) and the significance of global markets for European exports and imports. I return to this point below. But before i get to that, when regional enemies are turned into regional rivals, one is incentivized to develop and sustain regional institutions and norms that manage various features (trade, communication, international law, etc.) of the rivalry. This is the possible mechanism that underwrites (recall) Smith's idea of a transatlantic empire and Kant's idea of regional con-federation.

One effect is that the world is divided between peoples (rivals) with which one has shared interests and peoples who remain possible enemies. This way of putting it makes sense of Foucault's idea that the development of liberalism generated a European subject, who viewed part of the world as ripe for, if not, colonialism and  imperialism, then at least continued mercantilism. That is, on this view, intra-European liberalism strengthened the system of global mercantilism. Foucault can grant, and even argues this, that liberalism understood itself as a limitation and correction of mercantilism (and the mercantile police state in particular). But this self-understanding, while partially correct, occludes the fact that the embrace of domestic and regional liberalism sustains a system of global mercantilism.

The benefit of this analysis is that it can explain why mercantile forces made such a powerful comeback after 1870 (as neoliberals lament and their critics acknowledge). For rather than being defeated by the victory of 19th century liberalism, its position had de facto been improved. 

Now, against Kant and Smith, Foucault comes close to implying that the non-zero sum intra-European relationships presuppose a zero-sum extra-European relationship that extracts wealth from would be enemies (in what we may call the Global South). On this view a zone of open-ended progress requires the domination of the backward, even if the shape of this domination is product of contingent features. 

It is important to register that while this is certainly not implausible (given subsequent history) this is not the necessary liberal self-understanding. Smith is quite explicit that non-zero-sum relations are possible with peoples everywhere and, as is well known, he is very critical of the mercantile spirit of war that has occasioned the "savage injustice" of non-Europeans. For both Smith and Kant, progress toward a global organization that creates non-zero-sum logic can accompany open-ended economic progress. Whether the self-conception is correct or is ideological delusion or sensible regulative ideal is, in part, an empirical question. 

I am about to wrap up. But note that there is a further implication of the division of states into European rivals and non-European possible enemies. The possible enemies are all, in principle, geographically distant. And so the grounds of enmity much fewer than among the formerly local enemies. This fact was obscured by the existence of European imperialism/colonialism itself the consequence of (a) capacity to project power globally; (b) the relative military weakness of most non-Europeans; (c) and the development or ethnic/racialist/cultural ideologies of European superiority. With global shifts of balance of power against Europe, (a-c) are de facto being undermined. So, this makes possible a form of European subject that does not thereby indirectly support global mercantilism. So, Europe's current relative weakening may, in fact, be good news for European liberalism understood as a global aspiration. If that's right, this may be the first grounds for optimism about a possible third wave of liberalism, if we can generate it.

Okay, that's it for today. Somewhat surprisingly, when later in the lecture series, Foucault turns to the Ordos and the Chicago school, Foucault does not really return to theme of European subjectivity, nor global rationality. But in a follow up post, I will try to rationally reconstruct it and address the question whether neo-liberalism generates imperial mechanisms.

 

Hayek (Streeck, Hazony) and World Federation and Colonialism

In the national state current ideologies make it comparatively easy to persuade the rest of the community that it is in their interest to protect “their” iron industry or “their” wheat production or whatever it be. An element of national pride in “their” industry and considerations of national strength in case of war generally induce people to consent to the sacrifice. The decisive consideration is that their sacrifice benefits compatriots whose position is familiar to them. Will the same motives operate in favor of other members of the Union? Is it likely that the French peasant will be willing to pay more for his fertilizer to help the British chemical industry? Will the Swedish workman be ready to pay more for his oranges to assist the Californian grower? Or the clerk in the city of London be ready to pay more for his shoes or his bicycle to help American or Belgian workmen? Or the South African miner prepared to pay more for his sardines to help the Norwegian fishermen?--Hayek (1939) "The Economic Conditions of Interstate Federalism."

Hayek's (1939) "The Economic Conditions of Interstate Federalism" plays two roles in recent critical discussions of  neo-liberalism. First, Wolfgang Streeck (recall) sees in it the neoliberal masterplan for the European Union by which a federal structures prevent the development of socialism and the welfare-state among member units (of the federation). Streeck's reading of Hayek is not wholly misleading.  Hayek does state that "it would be desirable for the constitution of the federation to impose on the freedom of the individual states would have to be even greater than we have hitherto assumed and that their power of independent action would have to be limited still further." And this is not limited "to state economic policy but also to economic policy conducted by trade and professional organizations extending over the territory of the state."

But even so the justification of this is not to prevent the welfare state or local experimentation, but "to prevent evasions of the fundamental provisions securing free movement of men, goods, and capital." Hayek's real targets are "trade-unions, cartels, or professional associations," and other would be local monopolists. That is to say, Hayek is no Lionel Robbins (his LSE colleague), who in his (1941) "Economic aspects of federation" proposal did leave more room for local "experimentation" even socialist experimentation (albeit with various restrictions). For Robbins "the [member] states are completely free to set up collectivist undertakings."* This is surely a bridge too far for Hayek. But the target of Hayek is, as he writes shortly below, not primarily redistribution, but interference "with economic activity" and "state control." (This is not to suggest that Hayek is a fan of redistribution, but see Zwolinski's recent essay.)

The second line of interpretation is due to (recall) Yoram Hazony, who in The Virtue of Nationalism, reads Hayek (1939) as endorsing (quoting Hazony) an "international federal state without significant boundaries between nations." (See also the accompanying notes in Hazony.)** If we look at the passage quoted at the top of this post we can see what inspired Hazony. Hayek is clearly thinking of a trans-Atlantic North American (e.g., "California")-European federation; Hayek calls it a federation of "Atlantic democratic states," but one that includes Europe's dominions/colonies (e.g., South Africa).  And, indeed, when after the war plans were developed for a European (economic) Community the African colonies were very much included. (Before it become independent in 1962 Algeria was part of the EEC.)

Hayek's stance is, in part, if not inspired by the phenomenal success of Clarence Streit's (1939) Union Now, at least clearly co-extensive with it. (Streit is explicitly mentioned in Hayek's piece.) While Hayek proposes a geographically extensive federation, it is not global in character. In Hayek, this is so because he wishes to exclude the "socialist" countries like the USSR. Or to be precise, he thinks the USSR would refuse to "submit" to the rules governing his proposed "interstate federation." So, while Hazony has accurately discerned the drift of Hayek's proposal, his federation is not necessarily global in character and there is no expectation it will naturally become such a global empire. So, unlike Mises -- who often writes as if the success conditions of liberalism presuppose the establishment of global liberalism --, Hayek thinks liberalism need not entail global federation.+

But that leaves another question. As Or Rosenboim recounts, and building on Orwell, Streits'proposal while centered on the virtues of liberal democracies, clearly also is meant to secure domination of a (racialized hierarchy of) 'civilized' peoples. How does Hayek see the relationship between the federation and European colonies. Recall that while Mises hoped to secure a liberal global order, Mises thought the sooner the European imperial powers de-colonized the better. Hayek recognizes that the question is lurking behind his own proposal. Here's what he writes.

It does not come within the scope of a short article to consider in any detail the positive tasks of the liberal economic policy which a federation would have to pursue. Nor is it even possible to give here further consideration to such important problems as those of monetary or colonial policy which will, of course, continue to exist in a federation. On the last point it may, however, be added that the question which probably would be raised first, i.e., whether colonies ought to be administered by the states or by the federation, would be of comparatively minor importance. With a real open-door policy for all members of the federation, the economic advantages derived from the possession of colonies, whether the colonies were administered federally or nationally, would be approximately the same to all the members of the federation. But, in general, it would undoubtedly be preferable that their administration should be a federal and not a state matter.

What is notable is that unlike Mises, who is explicit about the unmitigated evils of colonialism, Hayek leaves his views on the matter oblique here.++ It's pretty clear, however, that he is primarily focused on the way that colonies generate interstate rivalry (and so war, protection, etc.). An interstate federation is a solution to the problem of such state rivalry over colonialism. The benefits, if any, of holding a colony now accrue to all the members of a federation.

It's possible (perhaps this is lurking behind the "in general") Hayek also thinks that the federation would treat the inhabitants of the colonies more humanely than the member states. But if so, he does not say it. And his remarks are naturally read as endorsing continued colonial rule by the federation. It is striking that roughly in the same period, Mises comes out as looking much more committed to democracy and freedom than Hayek does. 

Let me close. In his paper, Hayek writes "that nineteenth-century liberalism did not succeed more fully is due largely to its failure to develop in this direction; and the cause is mainly that, because of historical accidents, it successively joined forces first with nationalism and later with socialism, both forces being equally incompatible with its main principle." In the accompanying footnote, Hayek treats John Stuart Mill as exemplary of both (regrettable) tendencies. 

We may say, without a sense of superiority, and a considerable note of melancholy and regret, that twentieth-century liberalism did not succeed more fully is in no small matter due to its continued temptation to treat the economic interests of (Northern) Atlantic states as co-extensive with the true direction of liberalism. Even those that explictly rejected Mill's civilizational mission were often infected by this tendency.

 

On Democratic Betrayal

Donald Trump has praised Chinese leader Xi Jinping over his handling of the protests in Hong Kong, after a weekend that saw police fire tear gas at demonstrators and a mob launched a vicious attack on pro-democracy campaigners. The US president told reporters at a White House meeting with Imran Khan, Pakistan’s prime minister, that the weeks of protests had been “relatively non-violent”, adding that Mr Xi should be applauded for letting them continue.  “I think [China] could stop them if they wanted . . . I’m not involved in it very much but I think President Xi of China has acted responsibly, very responsibly,” he said. The comments come after the Financial Times reported earlier this month that Mr Trump agreed to tone down criticism of Beijing’s approach to the protests in order to revive talks to resolve the US-China trade war.--Primrose Riordan and Nicolle Liu reporting in the Financial Times, July 23, 2019.

An idea going back to the ancient Greeks is that (among Greek city-states) democratic regimes support each other, while oligarchic regimes instinctively offer mutual aid. (Part of the empirical support for the idea was the Athenian practice to install democratic leaning regimes in places they conquered and the Spartan practice to install olicharchic regimes in places they controlled.) The idea has had an after-life in the liberal faith (articulated by Addison and Kant) that liberal democracies tend toward peace with each other; just as the post-Napoleonic restoration involved monarchies supporting monarchies. During the cold war the idea was transformed to mutual support among liberal democracies and (against) among communist states.

There are sufficiently large number of exceptions to such generalizations, to treat these as mere tendencies. Even so, at various moments one may be tempted into thinking that for democracies, grounded on the normative ideal of equality, the support of democracy elsewhere is itself an important interest that guides their statecraft. From that vantage point, one non-trivial blemish (recall) on President Obama's record is the collapse of the Arab Spring on his watch (alongside the disastrous support for the Saudi war-machine in Yemen). Given the importance of American weapons and cash to the Egyptian army, his Administration was more than merely complicit in the downfall of the only legitimately, democratically elected Egyptian President (the recently deceased Mohamed Morsi). 

For many democratic leaders, their legitimacy is grounded in being elected by the people. And this gives them, in their own eyes, legitimacy in the eyes of others. Why this would be so may be hard to say, but presumably it appeals to the egalitarian thought that each of us have a respect for the consent and judgment of others as we would expect them to have it for ours. If the contrast is a (divine) right grounded in the accidents of birth or arms, this may well survive some scrutiny. To disparage democracy would be self-undermining to a certain democratic leader.

In the paragraph above the previous one, I use 'interest' to grant that democracies treat the achievement of democracy elsewhere legitimately as defeasible. There will be circumstances in which a democratic state naturally sacrifices the democratic aspirations of others to reach vital objectives (e.g., survival, prevention of dangerous war, avoid enormous economic damage, etc.). Sometimes pro-democracy rhetoric only incites aspirations that can only be best described as false promise(s) (e.g., Hungary 1956; Syria during the past decade, etc.) Moreover, in some epochs mutual non-interference is a sufficiently strong norm, then states happily ignore each other's constitutional arrangements (or religion, etc.). 

Even so, alongside equality, liberal democracies are also committed to the idea that the world can and ought to be made into non-zero-sum relationships. Part of the liberal faith is that such win-win outcomes are more easily attainable with other liberal democracies. Why this would be so is not obvious empirically. But the thought is that most dictatorships and franchise restricted oligarchies have political economies where one person/group always gains at the expense of others. Whether is this is true empirically may well be worth debating, but it is notable that strongmen all use rhetoric of us vs them and advance the cause of cronyism and in-group rent-seeking. Casual empiricism suggests that a strongman is especially eager to concentrate power and to prevent other sources of countervailing powers to be developed.

Obviously, it's conceptually possible to have enlightened despotism just as it is known to be possible to have democracies elect strongmen who embrace illiberal, zero-sum logic (something I already noticed before Trump was elected; recall also this post). Given the considerable history of savagery by liberal democracies toward the disenfranchised and conquered, one may well think, with justice, that thinking in terms of win-win may be the exception that proves the rule.  An embarrassed silence, perhaps presented with an knowing appeal to political realism, about an expanding community of democracies may well be the appropriate stance. 

Even so, given that President Trump and his administration clearly view China as a rival if not enemy, and opportunities for public embarrassment may well be relished, their lack of interest in its human rights violations (especially toward the Turkic Muslims) and lukewarm support for Hong Kong protesters reveal part of the underlying instincts. It is obvious that this Administration is willing to sacrifice human rights for possible financial gain (the last sentence of the quoted newsreport supports that).

To say that Trump's attitudes towards democratic norms and practices are conflicted is intended as an understatement. That he, thereby, undermines democratic practice abroad and at home is to be expected by now. As Jacob Levy helped me see, Trump's rhetoric is a form of political action that is intended to undermine trust in democracy, the rule of law (cf. his hectoring of Sweden this week), and even minimal ethnic/racial cohabitation.+ Jacob T. Levy's writings (see here) have also convinced me that in a certain sense Trump's attitude is an effect of the Republican party's more general tendency to understand itself (correctly) as a minority (and so to use non-democratic means to 'win' elections).* Lowering mutual trust is a sound strategy if you are a minority and want your opposition disunified.++ 

And in reflecting on these last few sentence, and then looking over President Trump's comments, I had one of those terrifying duck-rabbit gestalt-switches. Trump does not understand President Xi's power as illegitimate in virtue of representing the rule of force; Trump admits he has no interest in the democratic protest(er)s, rather he identifies with the prudential restraint of a minority in control of state power armed to the teeth. 

 

 

On Aesthetics and The Problem of Tragedy in De Grouchy

The sympathy we feel for physical suffering, and which constitutes part of what we call humanity, would be a sentiment too transient to be often useful, my dear C***, were we not capable of reflection as well as sensation. But because reflection prolongs the ideas brought to us by our senses, it extends and preserves in us the effect brought on by the sight of suffering, and it is that, one might say, which makes us truly human. Indeed, reflection will fasten in our souls an instance of suffering that was only present to our eyes for one brief moment, and make us want to be relieved from it and from the unwelcome and painful idea of it. It is reflection which, making up for our natural changeability, forces our compassion into action by presenting it anew with objects which had only made a momentary impression. It is reflection which, when we see someone oppressed by pain, reminds us that we too are subject to that same tyrant, destroyer of life, and through emotion and self-pity moves us closer to her, making her sufferings interesting to us, even when they are more repulsive than attractive.--Sophie de Grouchy, Letters on Sympathy, translated by Sandrine Berges, Letter II.

Aesthetics -- and in particular, the effects of beauty -- is of central importance to the argument of the Letters on Sympathy. Grouchy brackets the metaphysical question about the nature and origin of beauty. Rather, she settles for a pragmatic definition: something is beautiful if it gives us pleasure to watch (or hear, etc.) it. This means it is grounded in sensibility. And this means that for her, paying attention to beauty and beautiful people can be a significant source of "happiness" (Letter III), especially if we sympathize with them. Elsewhere I have discussed the significance of beauty to her account (recall) of demagoguery. So, here I want to focus on her 'solution' to the problem of tragedy.

The problem of tragedy—a topic widely discussed in eighteenth century thought--can be stated (with thanks to Wasserman)* in simplified form as follows: why do viewers find pleasure, or something like pleasure, in the dramatic representation of an action that is painful and repellent in real life. This problem generated a huge amount of reflection in the middle of the eighteenth century. As Grouchy notes in Letter IV, Adam Smith had also taken it on in The Theory of Moral Sentiments. Modern students may encounter a version of the problem when they enjoy a horror movie.  

The problem of tragedy is an especially acute one for Grouchy for two related reasons: first, given her account of sympathy, we do not find the suffering of others pleasant, and we try to remove the causes of such suffering. But while audiences sometimes leave a theater in disgust (or avoid going to a horror movie), we generally do not try to help those suffering on stage. So, how come we willingly go watch tragedies and enjoy them? Second, she claims (and here she adapts a view standard since Scaliger) that the "point of tragedy" is in part ethical: it is in "great part to make our sympathy for the misfortunes of others seem pleasant." So, tragedy serves a didactic purpose in virtue of being pleasing. But given her account of sympathy, why would it do so? 

It is central to Grouchy's argument that we sympathize more with pains that we are likely to experience (Letter IV). This is as true for physical as psychological discomfort, even if according to her, we tend to sympathize more with physical suffering than the psychological ones.  

So, her strategy in dealing with the problem of tragedy is to emphasize two features of a tragic performance: first, the events portrayed are unlikely to happen to the viewers. Most of us are not kings or heroes, and so according to Grouchy we really do not identify directly with the protagonists and so do not really sympathize with them. Second, tragedies prepare our sensibility slowly and avoid "suddenly confronting" us "with the heartbreaking sight of physical pain." So, de facto, these two features entail that we actually sympathize very little or very lightly with the agents portrayed. The exceptions -- pity for the fallen mighty -- prove the rule: "we have more compassion for their misfortunes than for those of others, it is only because kings who seem to be preserved from misfortune by their elevation, strike us as more sensitive to them." (Letter IV; here she explicitly disagrees with Adam Smith.) 

As a solution to the problem of tragedy this is unsatisfying. And because she rejects Smith's idea that the outcome of the sympathetic process is always pleasing, she seems in a bad position to solve the problem. But she is clearly assuming some background commitments that mitigate the problems with her position. For example, when she first introduces the problem of tragedy, she discusses the nature of boredom, which on her account we do anything to avoid. It is so "unbearable" that "we do not fear, in order to avoid it, to give ourselves over to painful sensations, and that it is the desire to avoid it which leads us to seek the proximity of the idea of suffering." (Letters II.) This means that we subject ourselves to tragedy in order to avoid a worse fate (boredom), especially if the ideas encountered in it are fairly novel. (This is why it matters to Grouchy that in tragedy we encounter events we are unlikely to experience.) These ideas were already used (go read Wasserman) by two influential and widely read French theorists, Du Bos and Fontenelle, in addressing the problem of tragedy. (It would be a surprise if she had not encountered either in her education and readings.) 

Grouchy adds an important point. We can identify with the victims of tyranny in a tragedy because we can be subject to the same tyrant. She seems to evoke Antigone at one point in the passage quoted above  in Letter II. But we do not find this pleasant or attractive at all. Rather, this identification activates "self-pity" and so we find the actions of the tragedy of interest (even if unpleasant). This serves the didactic purpose of generating an interest in humanity. So, the other part of Grouchy's strategy in addressing the problem of tragedy is to deny simply one of its premises altogether: we do not really enjoy a tragedy even when we find it of interest. 

Is Blogging philosophy (or science), really?

In short, Fiske doesn’t like when people use social media to publish negative comments on published research. She’s implicitly following what I’ve sometimes called the research incumbency rule: that, once an article is published in some approved venue, it should be taken as truth. I’ve written elsewhere on my problems with this attitude—in short, (a) many published papers are clearly in error, which can often be seen just by internal examination of the claims and which becomes even clearer following unsuccessful replication, and (b) publication itself is such a crapshoot that it’s a statistical error to draw a bright line between published and unpublished work...

Fiske is annoyed with social media, and I can understand that. She’s sitting at the top of traditional media. She can publish an article in the APS Observer and get all this discussion without having to go through peer review; she has the power to approve articles for the prestigious Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences; work by herself and har colleagues is featured in national newspapers, TV, radio, and even Ted talks, or so I’ve heard. Top-down media are Susan Fiske’s friend. Social media, though, she has no control over. That’s must be frustrating, and as a successful practioner of traditional media myself (yes, I too have published in scholarly journals), I too can get annoyed when newcomers circumvent the traditional channels of publication. People such as Fiske and myself spend our professional lives building up a small fortune of coin in the form of publications and citations, and it’s painful to see that devalued, or to think that there’s another sort of scrip in circulation that can buy things that our old-school money cannot.

But let’s forget about careers for a moment and instead talk science.

When it comes to pointing out errors in published work, social media have been necessary. There just has been no reasonable alternative. Yes, it’s sometimes possible to publish peer-reviewed letters in journals criticizing published work, but it can be a huge amount of effort. Journals and authors often apply massive resistance to bury criticisms....

Let me conclude with a key disagreement I have with Fiske. She prefers moderated forums where criticism is done in private. I prefer open discussion. Personally I am not a fan of Twitter, where the space limitation seems to encourge snappy, often adversarial exchanges. I like blogs, and blog comments, because we have enough space to fully explain ourselves and to give full references to what we are discussing. Andrew Gelman "What has happened down here is the winds have changed."  [HT L.A. Paul & Liam Kofi Bright]

Gelman's post is reading in full, although I should mention that his useful historical timeline ignores the very important work done by Deirdre McCloskey (and her collaborators) on statistical significance, and the very early work (1990-3) [here, here, etc.] on the problems of replication in the social sciences by my mentor David Levy and his then collaborator Susan Feigenbaum. These papers by Feigenbaum and Levy were largely ignored (although they influenced my own work and early blogging). I know from conversation with David that NSF was uninterested in funding work on problems in replication at the time. The market in ideas is inefficient and the self-correcting mechanisms of science are imperfect, yet in philosophy we nearly always assume/presuppose an image of science that posits these. Okay, now let me get to the point.

Within professional philosophy (and science [you may substitute science for philosophy in this post]), blogging is currently treated in four predominant ways:

(i) A place to discuss and debate professional issues/norms (think of all the work Jennifer Saul and her collaborators have done to get gender-related issues discussed)

(ii) a means to convey news about the profession;

(iii) a way to try out ideas among sub-set of interested specialists and would be specialists; in fact this often leads (iii*) to the development or reinforcement of intellectual communities around some issues (with the risks of generating echo-chamber).

(iv) A means to promote developed and published views to the profession and the public.

There is recognition that (i) is a service to the profession and that curating blogs that cater to (ii-iv) is also a professional service. Publishing a blog post is generally treated as akin to an editorial--a part of public outreach or public service. Few are willing to treat blogging (v) as a species of philosophy, let alone professional philosophy that contributes substantially to the ongoing development of philosophy (or some other discipline). This last point is true even though some of the debates over the norms of the profession fall very properly and centrally under what goes by the name of 'meta-philosophy' (which in some quarters is becoming a recognizable area of specialization (AOS) or (AOC)). It is notable that both (iii) and (iv) require considerable philosophical skill to do so in a way that does not undermine professional reputations. Brian Weatherson, for example set the bar very high (on iii) in his earlier years at Thoughts Arguments and Rants.

There seem to be two arguments that prevent recognition of blogging as (professional) philosophy (science): first, it is not refereed (in fact, blogging is often, but not always, self-publication); second, the blogging format deviates in content and style from the existing professional formats (that is, the refereed journal article and scholarly monograph). Both are contingent arguments against treating blogging as a means to contribute substantially to professional philosophy as such. (Nobody would say Aristotle is not philosophy because he was not refereed.) For, while undoubtedly evaluating a blogger's quality would require some innovation in one's metrics/criteria, there is no principled reason why one could not evaluate the quality and impact of a blogger's blog post(s) post-facto in, say, a normal tenure review and promotion. In addition, quite a bit of objective data (about visits, links, discussion, prizes/honors) can be collected to contextualize interest in a blogger and his/her impact. Obviously, some of these metrics may reinforce (recall) the worst tendencies in contemporary, technocratic scholarly evaluation, but that's something that can be addressed.  Moreover, while it's true that blog posts deviate from existing academic formats, they are often contiguous with other formats found in philosophical history (including letters [e.g., Seneca, Margaret Cavendish], and linked essays [Bacon, Addison, Montaigne]), and commentaries [De Grouchy]--this is, especially relevant for members from historically marginalized groups whose philosophical contributions often appeared in non-academic formats in the past.[1]

By contrast, I would argue (in self-serving fashion) that blogging (in the manner of v) has some non-trivial professional virtues that can contribute substantially to philosophy not just as a service but as a means to advance the content/core of the discipline: (a) it is fundamentally not-gated, so there are few barriers to entry (anybody can start a blog) and criticism (most blogs have a comment option--or one can start another blog commenting an blog), so it removes a status quo bias in existing research. Non-trivially, one of the ways it removes barriers to entry is that blogging is (b) also to lower cost (it is truly open as opposed to the many pseudo-open science projects). In addition, (c) blogging can be dialogical with audience members reviewing (including structured peer review) and responding to/commenting on posts. A blogger can (d) make transparent connections and links by linking to other works within a particular blog post (and so, thereby, reveal or call attention to systematic entailments or presuppositions) and within the life of a blog or blog-persona. While some element of this (d) is also the case in traditional academic formats, a blogger can (e) respond to events in real time and continuously update her position (if she so wishes) and (e*) reveal the ways her thought has developed. In particular, (f) blogs can shape the events and discipline in real time (e.g. Gelman).  Finally, a blog can (g) try out or host different kinds of voices, and, thereby, explore a wider range of experiences.

While there is no reason to wish for the total displacement of the traditional scholarly formats – there are important virtues attached to peer review, and the slow accumulation of research findings --, it seems clear that blogging can expand the ways in which true scholarship (science, philosophy) is practiced. For too long we have conflated the peer-review process not just with the gold standard, but with the only legitimate standard. But while there is a lot to be said for the virtues of peer review and attempts to improve it via smell steps of introducing better and better practices, there are also known systematic fragilities with that process that no amount of tinkering will eliminate (because humans are not angels). (This is more general vice in the sciences where one method becomes fully hegemonic (e.g., evidence based medicine and randomized control trials are promoted in ways that create foreseeable fragilities.)) 

Thus, my claim is that blogging is a means toward making philosophy (science) more truth-apt because it allows us to become more robust. This is why we need to prevent the situation that only tenured folk can really afford to invest in blogging (v) as a way to contribute to philosophy. Now, nearly all the prolific bloggers are folk with tenure who, having figured out how to produce a steady stream of ordinary scholarship, can leverage their professional status to get an audience for their view(s). But this just reinforces species of status quo bias. Until we are willing to recognize blogging as a species of true philosophy and reward that professionally, young folk will be reluctant to run all the risks associated with it.

The argument here is agnostic on the virtues of blogging as a means toward public philosophy or disseminating philosophy to a wider audience, although it is clear that some of the arguments offered here carry over  to these realms, and may be even more compelling, in cases of blogging as a species of public philosophy.*

 

[1]O’Neill, Eileen. "Disappearing ink: Early modern women philosophers and their fate in history." Philosophy in a feminist voice: Critiques and reconstructions (1998): 17-62. See also, Lisa Shapiro (ms) “What is a Philosophical Cannon”

In Medias Res

After more than 170 consecutive posts , I am taking a short break in order to enjoy a family holiday.

Out of the twenty most widely read Digressions,  nineteen pertain to 'professional' issues and norms in academic philosophy (and university life  more generally)). I am grateful for your trust, interest, and occasional commentary. I recognize that not allowing anonymous commenting has inhibited discussion--I regret this on some days of the week because it entails that fewer perspectives are represented in a shared, public discussion. I infer (perhaps mistakenly) that professional philosophy is less of an egalitarian republic of letters than I had hoped; and that in people's perceptions the risk of a price to pay by being associated with a particular position is too high for the gains to be had from commenting. But on other days of the week, I welcome the reduced stress from more gentle moderation of discussion.

I am especially grateful for the continued interest in my more focused, philosophical posts. When I left NewAPPS, I had hoped to be part of a breakthrough in doing philosophy on the web. But upon reflection I realized I lack technological savvy. The now familiar format of a daily post was decided in a moment of hubris. Along the way I have come to appreciate the achievements of Seneca, Montaigne, Bacon, and Addison amongst others that have showed the great possibilities of serial development of philosophy. In an age of ever increasing professionalization and specialization, I need these Impressions to revisit and revive the sources of joy and wonder that got me on the path to philosophical inquiry; I am pleased some of you share the road with me.

And what about the outlier, you ask? The twentieth is on blogging.

I  return in early August.

Of Fleeting Impressions, or an author's frailty

The Circumstance which gives Authors an Advantage above all these great Masters, is this, that they can multiply their Originals; or rather can make Copies of their Works, to what Number they please, which shall be as valuable as the Originals themselves. This gives a great Author something like a Prospect of Eternity, but at the same time deprives him of those other Advantages which Artists meet with. The Artist finds greater Returns in Profit, as the Author in Fame. What an Inestimable Price would a Virgil or a Homer, a Cicero or an Aristotle bear, were their Works like a Statue, a Building, or a Picture, to be confined only in one Place and made the Property of a single Person?--The Spectator, No. 166. Monday, September 10, 1711. Addison.

At a conference, I recently caught Menachem Fisch engrossed in Dror Wahrman's fascinating Mr. Collier's Letter Racks, which Menachem warmly recommended. The passage from Addison is partially quoted on p. 51; Wahrman cuts it off at "Eternity." In context, Wahrman is not interested in the trade-off between profit for unique works and enduring fame that Addison posits (although fleetingness of life, of print, of identity (etc.) is a major theme of the book). Because duplication undermines scarcity -- it even risks effacing property --, it generates too much supply, and lowers what one might call "exchange value." (As Addison recognizes, the intrinsic or use value remains, and may, in fact, be increased because more folk can enjoy the fruits of one's labor.)* Addison imagines counterfactually, "What an Inestimable Price would a Virgil or a Homer, a Cicero or an Aristotle bear, were their Works like a Statue, a Building, or a Picture, to be confined only in one Place and made the Property of a single Person?" Yet, unique properties, which have a huge upside in exchange value, are vulnerable to the destruction wrought by time: statue, buildings, even pictures are fragile--and  even when they survive they may -- despite the necessity of the logicians -- be disassociated from the name that ought to be associated with it.

That is to say, one can be rewarded in money and approbation. If one scribbles in the right sort of medium, one can even hope to rewarded with posthumous applause. Addison's little counterfactual implies, in fact, that the truly talented (Virgil, Homer, Cicero, Aristotle) correctly favor the possibility of extraordinary posthumous fame over extraordinary riches in one's life. As Hume insisted, while subtly correcting Addison's implicit axiology, that there was such a thing as a "most durable, as well as justest fame," and offered as examples:

Kant, Hume, Smith, and Addison on Trade and Peace (and War)

Just as nature wisely separates nations, which the will of every state, sanctioned by the principles of international law, would gladly unite by artifice or force, nations which could not have secured themselves against violence and war by means of the law of world citizenship unite because of mutual interest. The spirit of commerce, which is incompatible with war, sooner or later gains the upper hand in every state. As the power of money is perhaps the most dependable of all the powers (means) included under the state power, states see themselves forced, without any moral urge, to promote honorable peace and by mediation to prevent war wherever it threatens to break out.--Kant, Perpetual Peace.

In the passage above, Kant, articulate the Liberal faith in international trade as a means toward peace.  The peaceable "spirit of commerce" operates both (i) within states (by making states averse to war-making) and (ii) between states by (a) enticing them toward peace prior to conflict and (b) giving them an incentive to mediate in other nation's conflicts. In Kant's hands this spirit is a-moral. Kant comes close to endorsing a theodicy of unintended consequences here. However, for Kant, the crucial political issue is to create the conditions under which this spirit can exercise itself by curtailing a commercial state's almost unlimited ability to contract debt to fight wars.

By contrast, while in his essay, "Of Refinement in the Arts," Hume certainly promotes the softening features of commerce within states (people are said to become more "humane" as a consequence of it) as a good thing, one of Hume's main argument(s) to promote commerce is in terms of it's value in facilitating the state's war-marking powers: "according to the most natural course of things, industry and arts and trade encrease the power of the sovereign as well as the happiness of the subjects." ("Of Commerce.")