I finally realized today, in the hair stylist's chair, that politics - and, more importantly, apolitical common topics - are the foundation of small-talk. I had always thought that these topics of conversation magically spring from the uniquely creative minds of conversationalists, but that just isn't true. I found an instant common ground with the woman cutting my hair in discussing the inauguration. I realized in the moment that I couldn't simply ask her for her political opinions - but I could ask her about an event in politics that anyone could have apolitical views on. The fact that 1.8 million people came was a great starting place.
One might ask what caused such naivety in me. I think the answer is that I'd always reflected on this outside the moment. There's something about being in the moment, in front of people, that forces you to be cognizant of what you 'can' and 'can't' do or say to them. I almost wonder if the claims people express against us are not uniquely individual, and conveyed to us through their body language and demeanor. (Of course everyone would convey the right to be treated as a human being -- but that one doesn't take being in the moment to recognize.)
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Why we're entitled to more
In today's increasingly efficient world, where everything is faster-paced and we tend to be less altruistic on average to others because there are just more of us and - more importantly - we interact with others more often, I think the driving force of our change in attitudes is not just that we have more opportunities. I think it is also that we think we are entitled to more.
We are entitled to more, perhaps, because we have more activities that we are engaged in - which means more opportunities for rewards. It furthermore may take more work to do all of these things and, with the invention of things like red eye lattes and blackberrys, we can do more work than ever before.
Perhaps this is also because we see others around us taking advantage of these opportunities and actually getting more during life - and we all feel like we should be entitled to the same. It doesn't matter whether we realize that these people have devoted their lives entirely to the achievement of this one goal. We tend to think that everyone is entitled to whatever the greatest-achieving person in a society is entitled. That may be the secret of how inequality can be sustainable: if there is the opportunity for any of us to achieve the highest position in society.
This is also why the unrealistic optimism of American beliefs in self-ownership and initiative have also served as excuses for providing the appropriate support for people born into disadvantaged positions in society. If we cannot acknowledge that some simply cannot achieve higher positions, then we can scarcely be motivated to change this condition.
We are entitled to more, perhaps, because we have more activities that we are engaged in - which means more opportunities for rewards. It furthermore may take more work to do all of these things and, with the invention of things like red eye lattes and blackberrys, we can do more work than ever before.
Perhaps this is also because we see others around us taking advantage of these opportunities and actually getting more during life - and we all feel like we should be entitled to the same. It doesn't matter whether we realize that these people have devoted their lives entirely to the achievement of this one goal. We tend to think that everyone is entitled to whatever the greatest-achieving person in a society is entitled. That may be the secret of how inequality can be sustainable: if there is the opportunity for any of us to achieve the highest position in society.
This is also why the unrealistic optimism of American beliefs in self-ownership and initiative have also served as excuses for providing the appropriate support for people born into disadvantaged positions in society. If we cannot acknowledge that some simply cannot achieve higher positions, then we can scarcely be motivated to change this condition.
Obama
That was all the NYT headline read today. And the name now says so much.
Suddenly I feel proud to be an American, for the first time in my life - no exaggeration. What is most noteworthy is the fact that so many are treating this as a success not for Obama but for all of us. We don't even hear Obama's name mentioned all that much - just the victory itself. No one is mentioning much in partcular, just the pure potential that tis represents. Although we're all starstruck over Obama himself, he's so clearly symbolic. He's the first black, second-generation immigrant, professorial president in history. I tend to doubt the ability of symbolism to produce good, but Obama is symbolic in the best way possible: as an indicator of real demographic and attitudinal change. And to top off all his symbolism, he's smart, supported by a savvy staff, and beloved by the world. I'm going to throw caution to the winds and say he's perfect.
Cross-campus was awash with loud voices last night. Even my dining hall card-swiper greeted me with a wide smile today. We're all feeling the possibility of an Arendtian human power.
As the Guardian, of all newspapers, says, Obama is our hope.
Suddenly I feel proud to be an American, for the first time in my life - no exaggeration. What is most noteworthy is the fact that so many are treating this as a success not for Obama but for all of us. We don't even hear Obama's name mentioned all that much - just the victory itself. No one is mentioning much in partcular, just the pure potential that tis represents. Although we're all starstruck over Obama himself, he's so clearly symbolic. He's the first black, second-generation immigrant, professorial president in history. I tend to doubt the ability of symbolism to produce good, but Obama is symbolic in the best way possible: as an indicator of real demographic and attitudinal change. And to top off all his symbolism, he's smart, supported by a savvy staff, and beloved by the world. I'm going to throw caution to the winds and say he's perfect.
Cross-campus was awash with loud voices last night. Even my dining hall card-swiper greeted me with a wide smile today. We're all feeling the possibility of an Arendtian human power.
As the Guardian, of all newspapers, says, Obama is our hope.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Right, or just persuasive?
If you aren't persuasive, you lose in a debate. That is a sad fact of life. We recognize that reasoning must be transparent and public, and therefore our public policies should be determined by the winner of a dialogue, who demonstrates that he understands what types of reasons are compelling to others' interests. Compromise is essentially for clear speakers and thinkers.
But I think this is a problem on the individual persuasive/advisory level, where the articulate also have an advantage. A person necessarily understands her own interests better than others can. But if she cannot articulate her own position to herself, she can often be persuaded by others to follow a different course of action that is not, in fact, best for her. It is difficult to resist the persuasive power of a well-articulated intuition, unless we can defend our own intuitions in a similarly articulate manner.
I agree that the most articulate communicators are also the clearest thinkers, and often their expressed reasons simply are better than those from muddier thoughts. It is simply easier to think more deeply and complexly if one is working with clear parts. However, their reasons are often based on intuitions as well - they have just learned to understand those intuitions more clearly. The skill of explaining often doesn't change the intuition itself; the intuition may be flat wrong, whereas someone with weaker powers of communication has the correct intuition. This is especially dangerous when the articulate give advice, because their intuitions are especially ill-attuned to understand what is best for others.
But I think this is a problem on the individual persuasive/advisory level, where the articulate also have an advantage. A person necessarily understands her own interests better than others can. But if she cannot articulate her own position to herself, she can often be persuaded by others to follow a different course of action that is not, in fact, best for her. It is difficult to resist the persuasive power of a well-articulated intuition, unless we can defend our own intuitions in a similarly articulate manner.
I agree that the most articulate communicators are also the clearest thinkers, and often their expressed reasons simply are better than those from muddier thoughts. It is simply easier to think more deeply and complexly if one is working with clear parts. However, their reasons are often based on intuitions as well - they have just learned to understand those intuitions more clearly. The skill of explaining often doesn't change the intuition itself; the intuition may be flat wrong, whereas someone with weaker powers of communication has the correct intuition. This is especially dangerous when the articulate give advice, because their intuitions are especially ill-attuned to understand what is best for others.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Exactly how good is a Starbucks Vivanno?
Interpersonal comparisons of utility are indeed difficult to make because of the imprecision of language. Lauren Henry may think that a chocolate-banana Vivanno at Starbucks with espresso is "SO good" and gush about it for thirty seconds while I may think it is merely "a nice combination" because it is healthy, chocolatey, and full of caffeine. Or perhaps the latter is all that Lauren Henry thinks, she just takes that combination to be even more valuable than I do and thus worth thirty seconds of gush... Or perhaps she thinks no more of the combination than I do, but still thinks the combination worthy of thirty seconds of gush because of her more effusive tendencies... Which is it?
It could be that this question is as insignificant as the thought experiment of asking whether everyone sees blue as you see red, but expresses red in the same way that you express blue. But it could also be more significant, because it would seem to assign more moral weight to certain individuals based on the mere fact that they are more emotional and therefore gain more utility from certain acts - or fewer resources because they are likely to achieve the same utility from them. When we estimate utility, do we mean the mere emotional response, or the situation that normally produces a certain emotional response?
It could be that this question is as insignificant as the thought experiment of asking whether everyone sees blue as you see red, but expresses red in the same way that you express blue. But it could also be more significant, because it would seem to assign more moral weight to certain individuals based on the mere fact that they are more emotional and therefore gain more utility from certain acts - or fewer resources because they are likely to achieve the same utility from them. When we estimate utility, do we mean the mere emotional response, or the situation that normally produces a certain emotional response?
Saturday, August 23, 2008
When Aristotle was right
Man is a political animal. Intuitively, this is right. Of course, it needs to be explained a bit further and Aristotle is not helpful on that score.
Prof. Steven Smith convincingly interprets Aristotle to mean that men are not necessarily naturally - that is, biologically - political. Rather, we are in fact political because we can only actualize ourselves in a political environment. Speech is the key. We can develop relationships between one another only because of speech, the ability to share a common language and therefore understanding. And, for some unexplained reason, we want to develop those relationships that we have the capacity for, and therefore we act in public. This is similar to Arendt's notion that we cannot be human without action in the public space of appearances.
But why do we seek out these relationships simply because we have the capacity to? And why are these necessarily positive relationships that we seek out? Why can't we evilly exploit our ability to communicate with others in order to use them for our means rather than working for mutual or common goals? There seems to be a built-in assumption that we naturally do anything that we have the capacity to do, or that these relationships are in fact better or more useful than other options and therefore, more plausibly, everyone will pursue them. That said, this is overwhelmingly true in practice.
As Smith suggests, why doesn't this belie Aristotle's other notion of inequality? If language and reason are natural to the human species, and not to particular members of it, and these are the foundations of politics, why do we not all have an equal role to play in politics? Perhaps Aristotle would say that the capacity to reason is not what makes us all equally proficient at politics, but only what sets the stage for all people to be governed by politics. If Aristotle's argument is, as I remember it, that rulers are fit for ruling and the ruled are happy to be ruled because they cannot govern themselves, then it does in fact make sense for all people to pursue political relationships, regardless of what the outcome will be for themselves.
Essentially, it is a fact that man is a political animal - simply because we are all involved in politics right now. But the explanation for why we do such and how we go about it is far more complicated.
Prof. Steven Smith convincingly interprets Aristotle to mean that men are not necessarily naturally - that is, biologically - political. Rather, we are in fact political because we can only actualize ourselves in a political environment. Speech is the key. We can develop relationships between one another only because of speech, the ability to share a common language and therefore understanding. And, for some unexplained reason, we want to develop those relationships that we have the capacity for, and therefore we act in public. This is similar to Arendt's notion that we cannot be human without action in the public space of appearances.
But why do we seek out these relationships simply because we have the capacity to? And why are these necessarily positive relationships that we seek out? Why can't we evilly exploit our ability to communicate with others in order to use them for our means rather than working for mutual or common goals? There seems to be a built-in assumption that we naturally do anything that we have the capacity to do, or that these relationships are in fact better or more useful than other options and therefore, more plausibly, everyone will pursue them. That said, this is overwhelmingly true in practice.
As Smith suggests, why doesn't this belie Aristotle's other notion of inequality? If language and reason are natural to the human species, and not to particular members of it, and these are the foundations of politics, why do we not all have an equal role to play in politics? Perhaps Aristotle would say that the capacity to reason is not what makes us all equally proficient at politics, but only what sets the stage for all people to be governed by politics. If Aristotle's argument is, as I remember it, that rulers are fit for ruling and the ruled are happy to be ruled because they cannot govern themselves, then it does in fact make sense for all people to pursue political relationships, regardless of what the outcome will be for themselves.
Essentially, it is a fact that man is a political animal - simply because we are all involved in politics right now. But the explanation for why we do such and how we go about it is far more complicated.
A philosopher in crisis
Dear experienced reader of political theory and philosophy,
I am writing to seek your advice in an intellectual crisis. I write not because you are likely to be interested in my personal crisis, but because I have a feeling that the general question may interest you. I admit that these questions are dauntingly numerous and open-ended. I don't hope for any treatise as long as this email, maybe not even responses to each question, but only the comment(s) that initially come to mind and any discussions of this topic that you can point me toward.
I tend to think that my intellectual sympathies lie with political philosophers and (a bit more loosely) theorists rather than strict political scientists or policy analysts. The reason: I favor the more rigorous argumentation of the analytic philosophers. But after working this summer for a legal scholar who is a former journalist and by no means a philosopher - though with more theoretical coherence than most - I've heard the other side of the story, lawyers arguing before the Supreme Court who have no patience with philosophers who are unwilling to accept political realities and are altogether shunned by the legal practicing community. I've thus stumbled upon the questions below that I suppose are very common. Yet despite how common I imagine these to be, I am ever-stymied in my attempts to find professional discussions of these questions. I begin to fear that, occasional rosy-colored public statements aside, political philosophers write more for their colleagues and their own gratification than to produce any lasting change. I say this not as a critic, but as a concerned fan - for I, too, gain a great deal of insight and pleasure, if you will, from theoretical and philosophical debates. But I am still confused about the following questions:
1. Who is the audience of political philosophers? Most political and legal philosophers freely acknowledge that their work is ignored by practitioners of law. Sometimes they argue about the necessity of informing the public. But I doubt both that they have any enthusiasm for that proposal (I see very few journal authors churning out public pamphlets) nor that their ideas lend themselves easily to public digest. Yet I also do not see them often directing their arguments to policy-makers or the politically influential.
2. What do political theorists and philosophers hope to accomplish with their work? I know they seldom hope to solve the great questions they pose like Why is justice important?.
3. Given the profound importance of legal theory questions, why should we trust this class of thinkers to resolve them for us? Especially given that most arguments begin with certain theoretical premises - whether Rawlsian, consequentialist, etc - but authors of course refuse to pigeon-hole themselves into a school of thought so that members can easily grasp their arguments and non-members can easily reject them, this makes it very difficult to disaggregate the total work out there for the non-member of the philosophical community. Even deciding what one believes requires going article-by-article, deciding, if it meets our test for soundness of logic and argumentation, whether it appeals to our intuitions about what is right. If I plan to write as a legal theorist, how can I take myself seriously while realizing that most people will merely dismiss my argument based on its first premises? If in a pluralistic system we can never hope to base our entire theory of law on one (my) philosophy, why should we adopt it in this aspect? Cleary the reason I favor this approach is because it is the outgrowth of my fundamental principles. But there is a certain disingenuousness in arguing in persuasive dialogue that this is the best outcome for others who do not share my principles, based on outcomes alone.
4. Similarly, as a mere student and a fresh student of political philosophy, can I hope to add anything to the discussion early? The field seems to me to be one for the wise and experienced, mostly for older philosophers who have authority through credence. Certainly one say that . But if I do not come across as a prodigy - the contrary being almost 100% guaranteed - do you think that I can do anything that will be accepted? A mediocre chemistry professor can at least hash out the details of some new formula. But it's not clear to me that the same is true in philosophy because there is no "scientific method" to which you can appeal. It seems you must prove the soundness of your method before addressing the details, or no one will trust you. And therefore all the young people simply seem to be applying the philosophy of an established philosopher to a new question. But if I don't want to merely embrace some such philosopher blindly, must I just consign myself to a career writing about the specific texts of other thinkers, quoting others only?
Can a political theorist do respectable work in political philosophy, and likewise? The very fact that the debate between the disciplines is so stained with contempt, on both sides, suggests that the constructive nature in which they could engage is lost.
Sincere thanks,
Erin Miller
I am writing to seek your advice in an intellectual crisis. I write not because you are likely to be interested in my personal crisis, but because I have a feeling that the general question may interest you. I admit that these questions are dauntingly numerous and open-ended. I don't hope for any treatise as long as this email, maybe not even responses to each question, but only the comment(s) that initially come to mind and any discussions of this topic that you can point me toward.
I tend to think that my intellectual sympathies lie with political philosophers and (a bit more loosely) theorists rather than strict political scientists or policy analysts. The reason: I favor the more rigorous argumentation of the analytic philosophers. But after working this summer for a legal scholar who is a former journalist and by no means a philosopher - though with more theoretical coherence than most - I've heard the other side of the story, lawyers arguing before the Supreme Court who have no patience with philosophers who are unwilling to accept political realities and are altogether shunned by the legal practicing community. I've thus stumbled upon the questions below that I suppose are very common. Yet despite how common I imagine these to be, I am ever-stymied in my attempts to find professional discussions of these questions. I begin to fear that, occasional rosy-colored public statements aside, political philosophers write more for their colleagues and their own gratification than to produce any lasting change. I say this not as a critic, but as a concerned fan - for I, too, gain a great deal of insight and pleasure, if you will, from theoretical and philosophical debates. But I am still confused about the following questions:
1. Who is the audience of political philosophers? Most political and legal philosophers freely acknowledge that their work is ignored by practitioners of law. Sometimes they argue about the necessity of informing the public. But I doubt both that they have any enthusiasm for that proposal (I see very few journal authors churning out public pamphlets) nor that their ideas lend themselves easily to public digest. Yet I also do not see them often directing their arguments to policy-makers or the politically influential.
2. What do political theorists and philosophers hope to accomplish with their work? I know they seldom hope to solve the great questions they pose like Why is justice important?.
3. Given the profound importance of legal theory questions, why should we trust this class of thinkers to resolve them for us? Especially given that most arguments begin with certain theoretical premises - whether Rawlsian, consequentialist, etc - but authors of course refuse to pigeon-hole themselves into a school of thought so that members can easily grasp their arguments and non-members can easily reject them, this makes it very difficult to disaggregate the total work out there for the non-member of the philosophical community. Even deciding what one believes requires going article-by-article, deciding, if it meets our test for soundness of logic and argumentation, whether it appeals to our intuitions about what is right. If I plan to write as a legal theorist, how can I take myself seriously while realizing that most people will merely dismiss my argument based on its first premises? If in a pluralistic system we can never hope to base our entire theory of law on one (my) philosophy, why should we adopt it in this aspect? Cleary the reason I favor this approach is because it is the outgrowth of my fundamental principles. But there is a certain disingenuousness in arguing in persuasive dialogue that this is the best outcome for others who do not share my principles, based on outcomes alone.
4. Similarly, as a mere student and a fresh student of political philosophy, can I hope to add anything to the discussion early? The field seems to me to be one for the wise and experienced, mostly for older philosophers who have authority through credence. Certainly one say that . But if I do not come across as a prodigy - the contrary being almost 100% guaranteed - do you think that I can do anything that will be accepted? A mediocre chemistry professor can at least hash out the details of some new formula. But it's not clear to me that the same is true in philosophy because there is no "scientific method" to which you can appeal. It seems you must prove the soundness of your method before addressing the details, or no one will trust you. And therefore all the young people simply seem to be applying the philosophy of an established philosopher to a new question. But if I don't want to merely embrace some such philosopher blindly, must I just consign myself to a career writing about the specific texts of other thinkers, quoting others only?
Can a political theorist do respectable work in political philosophy, and likewise? The very fact that the debate between the disciplines is so stained with contempt, on both sides, suggests that the constructive nature in which they could engage is lost.
Sincere thanks,
Erin Miller
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