The End of David Brooks

No, not really – a more accurate title would be, '"The Limitations on David Brooks' Understanding of Ethics." He wrote an op-ed for 4/6/09 called "The End of Philosophy." It's not horrible, I guess, but it is rife with imprecision and inaccuracy. Hilzoy has a lovely dissection of it in "Philosophy: Not Dead Yet!"

I'd just add – although I'm overdue for re-reading Aristotle – Aristotle discussed the difference between doing good deeds with and without reflection and deliberation. Roughly speaking, Aristotle viewed true virtue as the good deliberately chosen, a set of good habits and a general path. Brooks puts moral thinking and snap moral judgments in opposition, but in actuality, the ancient Greeks discussed and debated both in great detail. Furthermore, the existence of snap moral judgments and our basis for making them (while interesting) does not mean that a more reflective form of moral thinking doesn't exist or is not valuable. It would be one thing if Brooks argued that we underestimate how many of our moral judgments are actually snap decisions and that we misjudge the source of our own sense of morality. I suppose if we're especially charitable that is what Brooks is saying. But he also misses something essential, because contrary to what he argues, not all "moral judgments are like that" – they are not all "rapid intuitive decisions." But read Hilzoy's post, because it uses a splendid analogy and her piece is far more elegant.

Hilzoy also remarks:

(Parenthetical note: what is it with these conservatives and their desire to kill off the humanities? Fukuyama and the End of History, now Brooks ... can the Death of Inner Asian and Altaic Studies be far behind?)

Considering conservative antipathy toward the arts and toward science, it's not surprising.

(Cross-posted at Blue Herald)

New Atheists and Other Straw Men

It's one of the chief reasons I love the internets, but the liberal blogosphere in particular. I can read a piece such as "The atheist delusion" in Salon, get annoyed by John Haught's straw man arguments, and feel the urge to rebut them — but then I'll find someone else, in this case Brian at Incertus, has already done so. It's a really sharp (and quick) dissection. Check it out. As he concludes:

My point here is that while I appreciate Haught's efforts in bringing religious belief more in tune with scientific understanding--he was the only theologian to testify in the 2005 Dover, PA case about ID in the schools--he really needs to lay off of us atheists, especially if he's not going to actually address our stances and opinions.

I'd add that when Haught complains that the "new" atheists Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens and Sam Harris are "pale imitations of great atheists like Nietzsche, Camus and Sartre," it strikes me as pretty unfair, like comparing every contemporary playwright to Shakespeare. Those three fellows are giants, but the "new" atheists also have a different focus. They discuss history and philosophy, but they're also examining contemporary figures and politics. It reminded me of the 'dance for me, atheist monkey' sentiment (my characterization) of a piece by Jacques Berlinerblau, and it seems to be a distraction and dodge. I also thought, "Well, Haught, you're no St. Augustine or Thomas Aquinas!" Amy (of Incertus) in the comment thread had an intriguing reaction, that Haught was trying to reframe the debate with "new" atheists: "Why can't they be nihilists?! That's so much easier to argue against!!" That's probably the best take.

I'd also say that Haught mischaracterizes Camus' Myth of Sisyphus and existentialism in general, but since it's just an interview, perhaps he's more nuanced and accurate in his book. Very roughly speaking (and I should re-read Myth…), Camus' contention would be that a situation may be objectively hopeless, but we still possess the ability to chose our outlook toward it. That power of choice is extremely powerful, and can be essential. Meanwhile, one of Sartre's key essays remains "Existentialism is a Humanism." Both the "natural law" of Plato and Aristotle and existentialism stress the essential role that choice plays. The difference would be whether one believes there's an inherent morality, order, a god, and so on, or whether we construct such things for ourselves. Personally, I've always been less concerned about the source of a moral system than the system itself, whether it works, where it fails, and how it can be improved. After all, the major Greek philosophers viewed "Ethics" the subject as a practical science, not merely something meant for theoretical fancies. I'd further throw in some thoughts on anthropology and cultural norms, and how the extreme trauma of WWI, physical, cultural, philosophical and psychic, seemed to spur such striking innovations in art and philosophy, from Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway to aspects of Sartre's existentialism. Hell, from roughly the same era, throw in Formalism as it relates to Eisenstein's theories of cinematic montage, and we could have ourselves a hardcore, super-cool geekfest. But my apologies; I'm leaving town very shortly, and I'm giving some very heavy stuff a cursory, breezy treatment.

The comment thread for the Incertus post has some great stuff, too. On the "tolerance" issue, I'll simply link this older post.

Update: I've since cross-posted this at Blue Herald.

A Way to Talk About Religion

Back when I was teaching a philosophy class, some animated classroom discussions spurred an assignment: write a paper proving or disproving the existence of God. (The course involved an introduction to the major philosophers and major concepts, but was also designed to prod students to examine, articulate and re-think their own beliefs. Students became extremely engaged in this course.)

Of course, it’s impossible to prove the non-existence of God. We also went over such philosophical classics as cogito ergo sum and the ontological, cosmological and teleological arguments for the existence of a supreme being. However, students quickly ran into dead ends, which was part of the point of the assignment — realizing what one can prove versus what one believes.

I suggested to the students they’d be better off arguing for the “use-value” of a belief in God, or disbelief in God. (“Use-value” is not the most poetic term, I know.) In other words, “I believe in God, and this makes me do [X],” or “My atheism leads me to do [Y].” It became an interesting enough assignment, with some great discussions, that we decided to have everyone re-write their papers, circulate them and perform an oral defense of them.

Two of the best jobs were delivered by Charles, a Southern young man who was quietly devout, and Mark, a young man from New York City who was a committed atheist. Each made a point of couching their papers and defenses in terms of his own personal beliefs and how it affected the way he lived his life. It was actually Charles’ best work to date, very well thought-out, consistent, coherent, and honestly, humble. Mark delivered a passionate, compelling piece about how his atheism made him a more moral person than he had been when he was younger and going to temple. Charles’ belief in the Golden Rule made him be much more considerate, he felt. Mark’s belief in mortality and no afterlife made him dedicated to fighting for justice for others in this life on Earth. In both their cases, self-reflection and choice played key roles in their philosophies.

Not every classroom would be ready for this sort of thing, but this was an elective for upperclassmen. They were a pretty bright, rough and tumble group, but also mature enough not to make any personal attacks (we had already completed a fun unit on logical fallacies, including ad hominem attacks). Were I to assign something similar again, I certainly would do a far more careful job setting the whole thing up.

It’s said that in polite society, one should never discuss politics or religion. It’s a wise warning, but it can also make for very boring small talk. Most social interactions don’t require much depth, but I personally prefer company that can respectfully if passionately disagree about issues that really matter to them.