I begin with the zeitgeist, with where our species is at in
the early twenty-first century. Philosophical questions can be more or less
responsible, depending on the extent to which they grapple with the background
assumptions of the prevailing culture. Thousands of years ago, theocracy of one
form or another amounted to the conventional wisdom. An empire governed the
land and dictated the official myths, although underground folklore flourished
in villages due to the lack of mass education. Today, though, we still live in
the Age of Reason that began several centuries ago in Europe, in that science
and technology are now the chief sources of human power. The respectable
thinker today must therefore grapple with ideas that arise out of this “modern”
milieu, and so we should begin with the naturalistic dismissal of miracle
claims and of traditional religious myths. We start our philosophical
questioning by deferring, to some extent, to scientists and engineers who have
largely created the postindustrial world we take for granted.
From Naturalism to Pragmatism
Naturalism entails
pragmatism in that one of the core assumptions of the myths that should be
dismissed is anthropocentrism. Humility should
be the most celebrated virtue, although technological progress and capitalistic
self-centeredness are more likely to infantilize us. As we learn in High School
science or philosophy classes, Copernicus, Galileo and Darwin removed us from
our presumed central position in the universe, by showing literally that Earth
isn’t geometrically central, that our planet revolves around one of trillions
of stars and that we evolved along with all the other species that crawl, swim
or fly. Once we absorb that humiliating lesson, we can no longer in good
conscience take at face value foundational knowledge claims. In short, we enter
the postmodern phase of hyperskepticism. In particular, we should doubt not
just obsolete religious traditions, but the hang-over dogma of the
correspondence theory of truth.
As the British say, we fancy that when we know something
we’re in possession of an absolutely adequate re-presentation of the fact. If I know that the daytime sky is
blue, my belief is supposed to agree with the fact. But that’s a dogma that’s
every bit as silly as theism. Whether it’s implemented in a brain state or in a
written or spoken statement, my “representation” of the blue sky is nothing of
the sort. “The sky is blue” presents again the factual properties of the
daytime sky just as much as a xylophone embodies a weed whacker. Granted, anything
can carry information about something else in that if you read the tea leaves
with enough of a detective’s ingenuity, you can learn useful tidbits about a
cause from its effect. So if a brand of weed whackers happens to be
manufactured by a company that also sells xylophones, the one might indirectly
tell us something about the other. Likewise, having seen daytime skies many
times and having retained memories of those experiences, the sky has a causal
impact on my thoughts. Playing the role of detective, I can infer that the sky
has such and such properties, based on the traces the sky leaves in my brain.
But that doesn’t mean those traces are objectively adequate to the entirety of
the facts, that my thoughts or statements about the sky capture the essence of
what the sky is so that the latter is present once again in the representation.
On the contrary, my folk conceptions are parochial and even a scientific
explanation of the sky’s colour is all-too human for having the ulterior motive
of instrumentalism. Scientific theories are formulated to
empower our species at nature’s expense, the goal being to learn enough about
natural causality for us to pacify the universe’s inhumanity. Our concepts
carve up the world into digestible morsels, but just because we can’t fathom
the sky in its noumenal aspect or understand what the sky is in relation to
everything else in the universe doesn’t mean there’s no such inhuman fact that
mocks the claim that our knowledge is empirically adequate.
So we should be pragmatic
about human knowledge, because the Scientific Revolution should have taught us
all to be humble and skeptical. This pragmatism means we should recognize
that as far as we can tell, knowledge is part of an animalistic process:
knowledge comes in the form of a map or model that’s used to achieve some goal.
This is why scientism should be dismissed along with exoteric religions,
because the possibility of nonscientific (noninstrumentalist or
non-power-driven) goals makes for the possibility of nonscientific knowledge,
given a pragmatic interpretation of knowledge. To say that knowledge is just a tool in the fulfillment of some
goal needn’t then be taken as a betrayal of pragmatism, since the pragmatic
picture of knowledge would likewise be just a tool. We needn’t presuppose a
realist view of what it means to say so and so is real. As long as we remain
humble, we can be tentative even in our philosophical generalizations, and so
although language may push us to affirm what we propose to be true, we should
remind ourselves that all our beliefs and statements are likely wildly biased
descriptions.