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Analysis and Synthesis /
Part and Whole /
Specialist and Generalist /
Labor and Management / Deliberation and Decision
| In earlier eras, when it was not obvious
that the scope of human knowledge far exceeded what could be
encompassed by a single mind, the challenge of explaining how
everything hung together was not transparently unmanageable. Today
– when single minds cannot encompass substantial sub areas of any
established discipline – it is. The solution is not to do badly
what cannot be done, but to do well what can – to construct a
series of limited, but accurate and overlapping, syntheses that
together illuminate reality as we know it. This, I argue, is what
we should ask of analytic philosophy.
Scott Soames
Richard Rorty
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I’m going to continue to harp on
Scott Soames’ exceptionally ill-advised and stupid retort to Richard
Rorty. I do this because, to the extent that what Soames says actually
represents the sense of the discipline, this means that analytic
philosophy is actually (as I have frequently asserted) bankrupt.
The trouble is that Soames makes
the analytic movement absolute, and forbids the synthetic movement. His
argument is that, since no individual can master every area of
philosophy, no synthesis is possible and none should be attempted. This argument would forbid any synthesis in any field
whatever, since it would be much more difficult for someone to master
all of physics than it would be to master all of philosophy. Yet
physicists still write textbooks, and not only that, they also often
claim that their discoveries apply to all of physics, and not just to
their subfield.
The problem here is the
defeatist perfectionism of analytic philosophy. The argument is
something like “Until we have successfully solved the component
problems, what hope is there of finding a solution to the general
problem? Let’s do this step by step.”
It doesn’t work that way. Take
Isaac Newton. When he published his work, embedded within it were a
number of unsolved problems. For example, his calculus was theorized on
the basis of the impossible and paradoxical “real infinitesimal”, and as
a result, for a couple of centuries mathematicians considered calculus
to be simply a physicists’ kludge rather than a real contribution to
mathematical knowledge. Likewise, whether he knew it or not, Newton's
equations were only valid for two bodies (i.e., the sun and one planet).
The first problem was ultimately solved, but the three-body problem
actually represented a truth about reality, and meant that his system
would never be as perfect many of his later followers would claim.
Copernicus, whose theory wrongly assumed circular orbits and later
required correction by Kepler is a similiar case. Both Newton and Copernicus quite rightly
chose to violate Soames’ principle, and to present their higher-level
theory even though some of its component theories were not quite right.
Soames would call this “doing badly what cannot be done”
and would have preferred that they had “constructed a series of
limited, but accurate and overlapping, syntheses that together
illuminated reality as we know it”.
The choice whether to work the
higher (synthetic) or the lower (analytic) level is made all the time in
science. These are relatives; what is a grand synthesis at one level of
analysis will be a component element of a higher level, and there is
no rule saying that the lower levels must be perfect before any work can
be done at the higher levels. (Newton
was also working without an atomic theory, much less relativity. And Darwin
misunderstood genetics – though that was not his fault, since no one
understood genetics at that time.)
A misunderstanding of what “practical
applications” are goes along with analytic philosophy’s misunderstanding of
whole and part. When Newton used an imperfectly-developed,
theoretically-illicit calculus in his physics, that was a practical
application (and a sleazy one) from a mathematician’s point of
view – even though Newton’s physics, as physics, was more theoretical
than anything anyone had ever done before. Whenever knowledge from one
field is used in a different field, that is a practical application.
When philosophers are asked what
the practical application of their work is, they respond snarkily, as if
you had asked them to satisfy some centerfold-interview dream of world
peace, a cure for cancer, and a new Mercedes. But the application of
research in one field to some other field is what practice is all about, and if
philosophy doesn’t have practical applications anywhere, people rightly wonder
whether it’s doing anything at all. (One reason why physics PhDs get
more respect from the general public than philosophy PhDs is that it’s
easy to say what the applications of physics are).
Now comes my main point. If you
put specialization, analysis, and the parts all together on one side of
the page, and
then put generalism, synthesis, and the whole together on the other
side, the specialist is labor and the generalist is management. Every
specialist job that can be done by an expert is done by someone hired
for that job, but the big decisions are made by generalists who are in
charge of everything, including the unknowns. Analysis is deliberation,
and synthesis is decision.
Philosophy’s principled decision
to limit itself to specialized subjects, and to refuse to try to
understand the whole, confines philosophy to the subordinate role and
minimizes the possibility that philosophy might actually make a
difference. If generalism is unphilosophical, then the boss will be
unphilosophical. And in the world we live in, that boss will be someone
like Pat Robertson or George W. Bush. If you leave a vacuum, someone
will fill it.
Summary of my
Philosophical Tendencies
My Philosophy Archive
Philosophy Polemics
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I am emersonj at gmail dot com.
Original materials copyright John J
Emerson
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