As near as I can tell, the entire philosophy of neo-pragmatism is based on the assumption that philosophy is supposed to work. But for the life of me, I’m not 100% sure what it is that philosophy is supposed to work on. I suspect that it is a theory of “judgment,” but again, I’m not sure. If it is, this means that, if your concern is how or why one does, would, could, or should make a judgment, then neo-pragmatism is the philosophy for you.¹ But what if that is not your concern? How does neo-pragmatism’s understanding that philosophy is supposed to work affect the rest of the possible philosophic concerns?

In this paper, I mean to explore the reasons why I think that neo-pragmatism — as focused on the concept of work — cannot explain all that philosophy is meant to explain, by which I mean: philosophy does not mean neo-pragmatism. The line of thought I intend to follow works like this. First, I shall need to demonstrate why I think neo-pragmatism is focused on the concept of work. Second, I shall need to demonstrate why the concept of work is not the sole purpose of philosophy. Thirdly, I shall attempt to fill the hole left by neo-pragmatism by offering a solution to the question of philosophy; that is, I shall attempt to fill the hole with the solution that the continued existence of the hole is the responsibility of philosophy; by which I mean, I shall attempt to explain why philosophy’s job is to protect the question. And finally, I shall try to review neo-pragmatism’s performance on the job and determine whether it should continue to be employed. This last will be accomplished by seeing how many questions neo-pragmatism has created, and whether its output is higher than its input: in short, I will attempt to determine whether neo-pragmatism is a profitable exercise in the work of philosophy.

In order to establish that neo-pragmatism is focused on the concept of work, I will need utilize the single philosophical tool that I think I may be able to wield with some finesse. This is the tool of deconstruction. Deconstruction works by focusing attention where attention is usually not focused. Instead of engaging what may be considered an essay’s thesis statement, deconstruction skirts² the issue. It focuses its critical eye, instead, upon the less “important” parts of the text,³ specifically, word choices. Deconstruction is the critical tool that tries to pry apart the difference between words.⁴ It would hold that there is meaning in the fact that a writer chooses “drug” over “medicine.” To that end, it attempts to provide meaning by looking at the motivating factors of a specific word choice. Since it assumes, for various reasons, that “asking the author” is an invalid method for calling out what may or may not be a motivating factor, it attempts to construct a reasonable explanation by showing how a whole slew of word choices support and motivate one another. This “whole slew” is then understood as a system that functions within the text. The effect of its functioning is the creation of meaning. It is how the text works as a text.

I shall use my deconstructive tool on the constructive philosophy⁵ of a single neo-pragmatic philosopher, Catherine Z. Elgin. It is a bit disingenuous to assert that the words of Elgin represent neo-pragmatism. She neither created the field nor ended it, and many of her essays have been controversial in their own way. But in Elgin’s texts, there is a sense of self-awareness that is missing from many of her colleagues. Reading Elgin seems to be the experience of reading a mindful writer. The systems at work in her text seem transparently present. They are not hidden behind anything, but at the same time, they are not trying to call attention to themselves. By their very baldness, however, they draw the critical eye.⁶

This is not to say that Elgin is a bad writer. She is a very good one. The baldness of her systems is a strength. Transparency functions as clarity. She puts her systems to work in the service of her overall message. The system of words develops a systematic message, the meaning of which serves the system itself. In other words, she constructs her message in such a way as to reveal its reliance upon systems: she doesn’t offer truth; she offers a system that works in those situations when others fail to work. In still other words, she does a brilliant job in matching her scheme to her content, which can be partly summarized as the notion that scheme cannot be separated from content. It is brilliant because there are better and worse ways to match the two of them, as she makes clear, and she chooses to use the better ones.

As example, I will focus on the introductory essay to her collection, Between the Absolute and the Arbitrary, entitled, “Disturbances in the Field.” Throughout the essay, Elgin utilizes the terms of business to motivate her message. They are prevalent, baldly, throughout much of the essay, but they also appear in other less nominal forms. In fact, I contend that her essay functions as a type of business proposal, where the work to be done is philosophy:

Traditional philosophical problems and methods are typically framed in terms that presuppose the dualisms⁷. What can philosophy do⁸ without them?

Opinions diverge. Physicists like Quine answer, “Science.” Nihilists like Richard Rorty answer, “Nothing.” Constructivists like Goodman reply, “It depends on our interests and ingenuity.” I belong to the Constructivist camp.⁹

In conjunction with the rest of the essay, this passage suggests that contemporary philosophy functions as a kind of academic entrepreneurialism.¹⁰ Certain questions are still without answers, and philosophers have to strike out on their own if philosophy is going to continue to get its work done. Of the possible answers, then, the undecided philosopher has to hear the proposals from various other philosophers and determine whether to invest his or her time into the same pursuit.¹¹

As she says, the pursuit that Elgin has chosen is called constructivism. Unlike the other proposals on the table:

Constructivism recognizes that there are a variety of corporate structures, capable of producing different sorts of cognitive goods. It recognizes, moreover, that the corporations in questions [sic] have interlocking directorates—that, for example, even in science, fact and value intertwine.¹²

Part of the strategy of this proposal is to assert that things are not either/or. Constructivism, according to Elgin, is not trying to monopolize the industry of truth-telling. Instead, it wants to be accepted as, at the very least, a productive member of the industry. This desire not to monopolize seems to come from the pluralistic and democratic roots of pragmatism.¹³ At the same time, it is the assertion that neo-pragmatism can function within the same truth-telling industry as those other, more monopolizing proposals; in fact, Elgin asserts, not only can it function within the industry, but it can function better than those proposals that begin with monopolizing aims: “The brand of constructivism I favor has cognitive virtues that make it an attractive alternative to currently popular positions.”¹⁴

Elgin then lists off the virtues:¹⁵

1. Ontological parsimony.¹⁶ Parsimony, of course, is an economical term. It means thrift, frugality, an unwillingness to spend money. By being ontologically thrifty, neo-pragmatism does not waste anything valuable on the idle discussion of the merely possible. At the same time, it is economic in that it does not limit itself or commit itself to anything that may create an ontological loss.
2. Recognition of the cognitive utility of reorganization.¹⁷ “Changing the way you look at things often makes you smarter. Our organization understands this. But even more than that, we promote this understanding. When you invest in neo-pragmatism, you invest in a corporation that refuses to grow stale. If things aren’t working like they are supposed to, we are not afraid to change.”
3. Constructivism recognizes neither a beginning or end to inquiry.¹⁸ This means that neo-pragmatism will never fail to make a return on the investment one puts into it. It will never come up short, because constructivism doesn’t believe in coming up. It continues inquiry. At the same time, it will provide frequent updates on its progress and will attempt to provide the best information possible at the best time possible to provide the closest thing possible to a right answer.

For neo-pragmatism, rightness is “a matter of fitting and working—the fitting together of various components of a system of thought and the working of that system and its several components to further the ends in view.”¹⁹ This allows for a plurality of frameworks that are only answerable to one’s interest and ends.

The interests that neo-pragmatism works for and ends that neo-pragmatism works toward can be considered the motivating factors of the work. If deconstruction is right in utilizing motivation to produce meaning, then one can understand neo-pragmatism as working toward an end or on behalf of an interest.

If philosophy is the search for right answers, then philosophy only works if it achieves certain ends or if it is responsible to the interests that promote the continued existence of philosophy. Philosophy then, is tasked with either producing right answers or producing more philosophy. The first task is acceptable to most neo-pragmatists; the latter is only acceptable to Richard Rorty, who was so disgusted by what he saw as the self-promoting nature of philosophy that he took a job as Comparative Literature professor.²⁰

The neo-pragmatists get around Rorty by their focus on work: rightness is “a matter of fitting and working.”²¹ They agree that philosophy can either produce right answers or produce itself, but since its job is to produce right answers, it wouldn’t be working productively if it only produced more of itself. And if something isn’t working productively, then neo-pragmatists have already accepted that it would need to change its previously working systems. Of course, its ontological parsimony prevents it from making changes willy-nilly, so possible investors have nothing to fear if they commit to furthering the interests of neo-pragmatism. And since neo-pragmatism recognizes no beginning or end to inquiry, neo-pragmatists can always rest assured that they’ll always have a job.

In recruitment advertising terms then, the corporation of neo-pragmatism offers its candidates the chance to work for a ontologically responsible organization that puts the needs of its customers and the needs of its employees on the same level. The former will get answers that work, and the latter will get the kind of security that comes with having consistent work. Nobody loses.²²

It’s a brilliant pitch for neo-pragmatism. It really is. From beginning to end, the essay works. But I’m still not buying.

Elgin writes:

[I]t is vital to consider what we want to do with our answers. We need to ask what our verdicts will be used for, what purposes they will serve, whether those purposes are worth realizing, and whether their realization will require sacrifices we are unwilling to make.²³

What if we don’t want to do anything with our answers?

Richard Rorty writes:

[The brilliant edifying philosophers, Wittgenstein and Heidegger,] do not think that when we say something we must necessarily be expressing a view about a subject. We might just be saying something—participating in a conversation rather than contributing to an inquiry…One way to see edifying philosophy as the love of wisdom is to see it as the attempt to prevent conversation from degenerating into inquiry, into a research program. Edifying philosophers can never end philosophy, but they can help prevent it from attaining the secure path of a science.²⁴

What I’d like to focus on here is Rorty’s use of the word “love.” Philosophy, as is well known, derives from a Greek term that breaks down as philo, which means “love, loving, friendly to, fondness for, attraction to, strong tendency toward, affinity for,” and soph-, which means “wise, wisdom; knowledge.”²⁵ Rorty’s use of love, then, should be understood as “a desire and fond respect for the continued presence of wisdom.”

Wisdom, however, if it is to be understood as a continued presence, must be conceived as the function of being wise. When Rorty says that “one way to see philosophy as the love of wisdom is to see it as the attempt to prevent…”, he is saying that his way of continuing philosophy’s presence is to defend it from “degenerating into inquiry.”²⁶ This is a rear-guard action: Rorty defends philosophy; he does not promote it.

As much as Rorty may do lip service to philosophy as a love for wisdom, his concept of love here works to keep it from harm. He sees philosophy as being in danger from something. He sees it as about to come under the knife of science, and so he is doing his best to defend it from becoming the (mere) research program that may describe its future.

But isn’t there another way to demonstrate one’s love for wisdom? One that doesn’t see the process of love as necessarily functioning under the umbrella of work? When we are in the presence of that which we love and in the process of loving, do we have to be working toward something? Can’t we (simply) be with that which we love?

The concept of work, I think, does harm to the concept of love, and thus, may do harm to the concept of philosophy. While defending the continued presence of love can be work (in the same way that a marriage can be work in those moments of defending the continued presence of love between the two partners—that is, when the disappearance of love is a concern, the marriage can become work), existing in the continued presence of love does not have to be. I contend that utilizing the concept of work to understand the process of love, especially in those times when the continued presence of love is not in danger, can lead to the objectification of those you love — the process of objectification, in its turn, degenerates love into something else again.

In short, I believe that love does not serve any purpose. While love may have a purpose, it does not serve that purpose. Love can only exist in the absence of slavery.

The concept of work, under the umbrella neo-pragmatism, does not serve the purposes of philosophy because philosophy has no purpose other than to continue the existence of humanity’s love for wisdom. In this reading, philosophy serves no interest and serves no end, other than its own survival.

Neo-pragmatism, however, in both its Rortian and Elginian forms, sees philosophy as being in danger. For both of these versions of neo-pragmatism, philosophy is in danger of becoming science. Rorty attempts to defend philosophy by attacking the scientific elements that have made their way into philosophy’s camp, specifically, the tradition of epistemology, which holds that philosophy is supposed to explain the way the world works and how we can be certain of that explanation. Elgin attempts to defend philosophy by compromising, by allowing the mission of science (the advancement of understanding²⁷) to become the mission of philosophy; at the same time, she does not ask philosophy to accept science’s value system:

Science seeks only those truths that realize its cognitive values and promote its cognitive ends [emphasis added]…The real question is not whether ideally acceptable theories suitably align, but whether the alignment of nonideal theories affords sufficient reason to commit disparate disciplines henceforth to develop in tandem…Reduction [to one theory] can compromise disciplinary autonomy, requiring [the] sacrifice [of] methods, goals, and orientations that serve their cognitive purposes.²⁸

Again, this seems more positive than Rorty’s position. Where Rorty’s defense tactic is to attack science and its philosophical fifth columnists, Elgin tries to broker a deal between science and philosophy whereby both can survive as a cognitive discipline. I say it seems more positive because her acceptance of science’s overall mission concerns me.

The source of my concern is the way philosophy is committing itself to the advancement of understanding, because I understand understanding as preventing the continuance of wisdom.

Understanding, of course, comes from understand, which comes from the Old English, understandan, which scholars think may come from under+standan, “to stand in the midst of.” In this sense, under does not come from the Old English, with its meaning of “beneath,” but rather, from the Proto Indo-European (PIE) *nter-, “between, among.” For its part, standan goes all the way back to the PIE *sta-, which can be seen, among other places, in the Greek histemi, “to stand, set, place.” We follow this with the Greek epistamai, which, while connoting the claim to know (“I know how, I know”), literally translates as “I stand upon” (I shouldn’t have to point out epistamai’s connection to the philosophical branch of epistemology). Once we unpack the etymological baggage of understanding, we can see that it refers to a necessary immobility, a standing upon or in the midst of something known.²⁹

Wisdom, of course, comes from wise, which as an adjective (“Socrates is wise”), comes from the PIE base *woid-/*weid-/*wid-, which means “to see” hence, “to know.” The connection between seeing and knowing is through vision and wit, both of which also stems from the same PIE base. Perhaps our colloquial “Seeing is believing” itself stems from this original linguistic connection between seeing and knowing.³⁰

But if we also consider wise in its noun form, we see that it means “way of proceeding, manner.” It is usually used as a suffix in modern English, as in the example, “clockwise.” While it ultimately comes from the same source as its adjectival brother, its distinct evolution is probably best understood if we look at the Greek eidos, which we usually understand to mean “form, shape, kind,” but which also meant “course of action.”³¹

John Dewey writes:

The force of [eidos] was deepened by its application to everything in the universe that observes order in flux and manifests constancy through change. The conception of eidos…was the central principle of knowledge as well as of nature…Completely to know is to relate all special forms to their one single end and good.³²

If we focus on his conception of the eidos as the essential form that does not change through time, we can begin to see how wisdom clashes with understanding. To be wise is to proceed. To understand to stand immobile. A philosophy that seeks understanding seeks to end the procession of wisdom.

Of course, Elgin’s compromise does not suggest that there is a final understanding, a final immobility. All she agrees to is the advancement of understanding. This should seem to settle a question of philosophy coming to any end. But what does it mean to advance understanding? It seems to suggest that philosophy has a “single end and good,” and that, if we follow the path of our understanding — if we proceed slowly, advancing from one known thing to another —, then we can get closer to this single end and good.

Dewey suggests this path is the path that will lead us “to improve our education, to ameliorate our manners, [and] to advance our politics.”³³ We will not come to the perfect, Edenic garden where we are already as educated as possible, as mannered as possible, and as politically advantaged as possible, but by following the path laid out by Dewey’s philosophy³⁴, we can become better at these things. This denial of the possibility of perfection is also the basis for Elgin’s promise that there will be no end to inquiry.

But if philosophy commits itself to an advancement of understanding, then, it commits itself to a very specific path, specific in its reliance upon knowledge for further advancement. The rationale for this is that philosophy is the love of wisdom, wisdom is deeply connected to knowledge, and thus philosophy is deeply connected to knowledge.

But what if we separate wisdom from knowledge? What if we consider “wise” to mean a way of proceeding without looking to its original union to proceed along with knowledge? What if our love for wisdom is not shared by a desire for the presence of knowledge? What if the presence of knowledge creates a sort of witness³⁵ to our love, preventing us ever from truly demonstrating our love, from becoming intimate with wisdom? Is it possible for philosophy to exist without the presence of knowledge? Is it possible for philosophy to exist without advancing understanding?

Rorty says yes. He says that philosophy can exist simply for the sake of philosophy’s existence. Philosophy doesn’t need to advance anything — it simply needs to continue. The difference here is the difference of intention. A philosophy based on wisdom’s connection to knowledge intends to follow the path that knowledge lays out; on the other hand, a philosophy based on wisdom’s connection to a [mere] “way of proceeding” allows more exploration of the territories that it may happen to come across — knowledge may lead in one direction, but philosophy may explore in another. In this reading, a “way of proceeding” is not understood as a “path that allows for proceeding,” as much as it is a style of proceeding.

Philosophy, then, need not only concern itself with the advancement of understanding. If a branch of it would like to do just that; if a branch of philosophy would like to proceed in tandem with science, then that is its right. But to deny philosophers the right to strike out on their own, to deny that philosophy doesn’t have to work toward something, to deny that philosophy can simply be philosophy³⁶ by proceeding with a certain style, is to deny philosophers the chance to proceed without knowledge in hopes of becoming more intimate with wisdom.

Hilary Putnam writes that the philosophy of Jacques Derrida and his French colleagues consists of ideas that “do not work, although this is obscured by the fact that thinkers of genius have been able to erect rich systems of thought [and] great expressions of the metaphysical urge…” The fact that they do not “work,” however, means, for Putnam and most other neo-pragmatists (Rorty being a notable exception), that their texts do not succeed as philosophies.

But why does philosophy have to work? Can’t it do something else? Can’t philosophy also be about the pure joy of cognitive movement? Can’t the experience of reading and writing philosophy serve no purpose other than going along for a ride?

There is such a thing as purposelessness. It is the experience of the experience. There is no purpose in it. It does not serve an interest or proceed toward an end. Its very essence is its purposelessness. Such a thing is usually called play.

[End of Parts I and II; III and IV to come in a few months time]

Footnotes
~~

1. Some might suggest that this is a theory of ethics that I’m describing. It may be. But if the ethics are considered successful if they work in a specific context, I suggest we are talking about neo-pragmatic ethics. ♠
2. “Skirt: (v)…try to avoid fulfilling…” WordNet 2.1, Dec. 11, 2005 . Compare with my “the continued existence of the hole is the responsibility of philosophy.” ♠
3. It is easy to understand why deconstruction is sometimes thought to be philosophical terrorism. Instead of fighting its adversary head on, it strikes its blows at less defended areas. The effect of these blows are largely symbolic. They may not do “critical” damage, but they often raise the fundamental question of integrity. ♠
4. “[T]he is that couples…must rip apart,” Jacques Derrida, “Plato’s Pharmacy,” Dissemination, trans. Barbara Johnson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 64. ♠
5. I will be interchanging “neo-pragmatism” and “constructivism.” I don’t quite have a valid reason; I honestly do not understand the difference between them, unless of course neo-pragmatism admits of ideas that would contradict Elgin’s constructivism, but to me, that would be a poor example of neo-pragmatism. Aside from validating why it contradicts Elgin, such an idea would also have to illustrate its lineage. I realize that this process is similar to the way in which various families make a claim for an empty throne; this is not to coronate Elgin, as much as it is to say she’s the most worthy of the crown that I’ve seen thus far. In other words, my unification of neo-pragmatism and constructivism is autocratic, but it invites a pluralistic response. ♠
6. The bald head of a man doesn’t refer to the man’s scalp as much as to the non-presence of the man’s hair — by not being there, it is virtually called to presence. ♠
7. “The denial of dualisms cuts to the heart of philosophy,” Elgin, “Disturbances…,” 6. ♠
8. In this instance, “do” must be understood under the context of work. ♠
9. Elgin, 7. ♠
10. Could this aspect of the essay be a product of its time? Elgin writes in 1997, right near the beginning of the dot.com boom, when the Internet entrepreneur and the venture capitalist are being lauded throughout the media. ♠
11. an investor in Goodman’s ideas and she is trying to bring more investors in on them? Does that fact motivate the kind of salesmanship that she puts into play throughout this essay? ♠
12. Elgin, “Disturbances…,” 11. ♠
13. Pragmatism has also been called “American Pragmatism.” ♠
14. Elgin, “Disturbances…,” 14. One can almost see the 1-800 number appear on the screen. ♠
15. The essay begins to feel very PowerPoint-y. ♠
16. Elgin, “Disturbances…,” 14. ♠
17. Ibid, 16. ♠
18. Ibid, 16. ♠
19. Ibid, 17-18. ♠
20. Albeit, he’s a Comp. Lit. professor who still cares an awful lot about philosophy’s nature, enough to seem kind of angry about it. ♠
21. Op cit. ♠
22. On the other hand, “[t]here are no guarantees.” Elgin, “Postmodernism, Pluralism, and Pragmatism,” Between the Absolute…, 199. ♠
23. Elgin, “Disturbances…,” 24. ♠
24. Richard Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), 371-372. ♠
25. “philo” and “soph-“, “Basic Greek Elements that All English Speakers and Readers Should Know,” The Lex Files, Dec. 11, 2005. There will be more to say about wisdom’s relation to knowledge later in the paper. ♠
26. One can almost hear Rorty say, “mere inquiry.” Its absence belies a grudging respect to certain ethical considerations that an edifying philosophy must uphold, specifically, the ethical acceptance of the presence of plurality ♠
27. Elgin, “Disturbances…,” 19. ♠
28. Ibid. ♠
29. See “understand” and “stand”, Online Etymology Dictionary, Dec. 12, 2004. ♠
30. See “wise,” “wit,” “known,” and “vision”, Online Etymology Dictionary, Dec. 12, 2004. ♠
31. Ibid. ♠
32. John Dewey, “The Influence of Darwinism on Philosophy,” Selections from John Dewey, Dec. 12, 2004. ♠
33. Ibid. ♠
34. There is a reason Dewey is considered the father of American pragmatism and Elgin belongs to the school of neo-pragmatism. ♠
35. Remember, knowledge and wisdom connect through vision. ♠
36. I wrote earlier, “Wisdom…if it is to be understood as a continued presence, must be conceived as the function of being wise.” If we transform “being wise,” into “beingwise,” then we may begin to understand how philosophy can simply be a style of proceeding — beingwise is being-proceeding. ♠