In the late 1100s in Paris, various educators were inspired by a new idea, the unity of knowledge: A fully educated man is not only an accomplished specialist in a particular career (the lucrative arts of Law, Medicine, and Theology), but he also has fundamental knowledge applicable to everyone's life (the liberal arts). This idea of the unity of knowledge became an ideal--that is, a goal worthy of action, including advocacy to others.[1]
Individually each Parisian educator, in his own manner, was taking steps toward ensuring that his students benefited from this new approach to education, and he was advocating that others do likewise. Considered together, these educators were a movement, that is, they were individuals taking action (including advocacy) toward a common goal of changing certain conditions in which they lived. By contrast, if one thousand people separately and coincidentally decide to paint their houses white, out of personal preference, they would not be a movement. To create a movement for painting houses white, the individuals would need to be motivated by a desire to change their society or culture, and they would need to advocate that idea to others.
The individuals in a movement need not know each other personally or even be aware of each other as individuals. A "movement" is thus a mental grouping of physically dispersed, socially unconnected individuals. Often, however, in a particular society when individuals realize they can achieve a common goal faster through cooperation, these individuals form actual groups, that is, sets of individuals who interact with each other in one way or another for a common purpose. Groups within a movement can take various forms.
In a network, Mr. Adams knows Ms. Beaumont, who knows Mr. Carter, who knows Mr. Daniels; but Mr. Daniels need not know Mr. Adams or Ms. Beaumont. A modern example is a network of neighbors who want to reduce crime in their neighborhood by watching out for each other. In an ad-hoc organization, individuals structure their relationship to achieve a particular, but short-term goal. An example would be a group of individuals who select a chairman and a treasurer for a political campaign to support a mayoral candidate who will fight to reduce crime. When the election is over, the group disbands. In an institution, which is a second kind of organization, individuals structure their relationships to achieve a goal that might require an effort longer than the lives of the founders. An example would be a group of individuals who want to make their neighborhood safe for themselves, their children, and their grandchildren, so they form The Institute for Safety in the Southside.
In Paris in the late 1100s, the advocates of unity of knowledge in education were a successful movement. They networked in the city that was the hub of the kingdom of France. They formed particular organizations to express their views. They eventually founded an institution: a guild of all members of the faculties of liberal arts, theology, law, and medicine. This guild fought for its members' goals. The Latin word for guild was universitas. The institution they created was the University of Paris, the world's first university, a unique invention of Western Civilization, the civilization whose foundation is a philosophy of reason.
In the United States, in our own time, an example of a movement is the conservative legal movement, a group of conservatives who want to see conservative views of the law presented in the top universities, in competition with leftist views of the law. The conservatives have rapidly achieved partial success.[2]
In conclusion I would say that a movement, as a group of individuals in a certain time and place, has two essential, defining characteristics: (1) a common goal of changing social conditions through (2) advocacy and other individual actions.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] See Stephen C. Ferruolo, The Origins of the University: The Schools of Paris and Their Critics, 1100-1215, Stanford University Press, 1985, especially the Introduction. [2] See Larry Salzman's book review of Steven M. Teles, The Rise of the Conservative Legal Movement: The Battle for Control of the Law, in the Summer 2008 issue of The Objective Standard (http://www.theobjectivestandard.com).
Jul 5, 2008
Jun 5, 2008
The third greatest sacrifice?
I began reading Ayn Rand's writings 47 years ago. From the beginning, almost everything I read sounded right. Only one idea didn't fit: the idea of sacrifice. Ayn Rand defines "sacrifice" as "the surrender of the greater value for the sake of the lesser value."[1]
At the age of 17, I wondered, "Why would anyone give up a greater value for a lesser value?"
As the years rolled by, I saw examples of sacrifice. To stop a war, a pacifist burns himself to death (the greatest sacrifice of objective value, life itself). To please her mother, a young woman marries a man she doesn't love (the second greatest sacrifice, happiness in life). To be more "practical," a 25-year-old man abandons his central purpose in life, telling success stories from history, to become a technical writer (the third greatest sacrifice, a passionately held central purpose in life).
Nearly twenty years ago, I met a man who was active in a local network of supposed students of Objectivism. He had all the accoutrements of success, such as high income, professional prestige, a large house with a grand view, and exotic vacations. And he was unhappy.
I asked him why he was unhappy. "Because," he said, "what I most want in life is to do something creative, like writing novels."
I asked, "Why don't you make that your central purpose in life, and throw yourself into the work full-time?"
He gestured to the walls of his living room, lined with paintings and the best of sound systems, a way of living that a beginning novelist could not afford. He said, "Learning to write novels could take decades of full-time effort. I would have to give up all this."
I was too stunned to respond. Now, with better understanding of the issue, I would reply: "So what?"
A PROBLEM. I have seen this situation repeatedly. It is giving up a passionate pursuit of a central purpose in life, a higher objective value, for the sake of comfort, a lower value. I have finally accepted the fact that people do this, and I have tried to understand why. There are several explanations, different for different individuals.
One explanation, which I infer partly from introspection, is mistaken methodology. This individual starts with a lifestyle--his particular set of ways of living, such as hobbies, kind of housing, dining habits, and form of transportation. Then he tries to fit his central purpose in life into that lifestyle. He cannot make it fit. The result? Instead of adjusting his lifestyle, he abandons his central purpose in life. He abandons "I love" for a set of comforting "I like" choices.
A SOLUTION. I know from personal experience, including 15 lost years, that this method--trying to integrate a central purpose in life into a predetermined lifestyle--is backwards. The proper place to start is with the central purpose, not a preferred lifestyle. Why?
"A central purpose serves to integrate all the other concerns of a man's life. It establishes the hierarchy, the relative importance, of his values, it saves him from pointless inner conflicts, it permits him to enjoy life on a wide scale and to carry that enjoyment into any area open to his mind; whereas a man without a purpose is lost in chaos."[2]
A central purpose is the foundation from which to build a life. By contrast, choosing (or defaulting to) a central purpose life by the standard of a lifestyle is like defining by nonessentials: a reversal of cause and effect. Imagine a young student of architecture in a school of his choice in New England. He likes to swim outdoors. He learns that he can do so, year-round, in the Dominican Republic. He leaves architecture school, moves to the Dominican Republic, and becomes a bookkeeper to earn an income--but swims outdoors every day.
To sacrifice passionate productive purpose for the sake of comfort (or any other lesser objective value) is the third greatest sacrifice. It causes the second greatest sacrifice, unnecessary unhappiness; and it leads to the greatest sacrifice, a wasted life.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] Ayn Rand, "Sacrifice," Ayn Rand Lexicon, p. 429. [2] Ayn Rand, "Purpose," Ayn Rand Lexicon, p. 398.
At the age of 17, I wondered, "Why would anyone give up a greater value for a lesser value?"
As the years rolled by, I saw examples of sacrifice. To stop a war, a pacifist burns himself to death (the greatest sacrifice of objective value, life itself). To please her mother, a young woman marries a man she doesn't love (the second greatest sacrifice, happiness in life). To be more "practical," a 25-year-old man abandons his central purpose in life, telling success stories from history, to become a technical writer (the third greatest sacrifice, a passionately held central purpose in life).
Nearly twenty years ago, I met a man who was active in a local network of supposed students of Objectivism. He had all the accoutrements of success, such as high income, professional prestige, a large house with a grand view, and exotic vacations. And he was unhappy.
I asked him why he was unhappy. "Because," he said, "what I most want in life is to do something creative, like writing novels."
I asked, "Why don't you make that your central purpose in life, and throw yourself into the work full-time?"
He gestured to the walls of his living room, lined with paintings and the best of sound systems, a way of living that a beginning novelist could not afford. He said, "Learning to write novels could take decades of full-time effort. I would have to give up all this."
I was too stunned to respond. Now, with better understanding of the issue, I would reply: "So what?"
A PROBLEM. I have seen this situation repeatedly. It is giving up a passionate pursuit of a central purpose in life, a higher objective value, for the sake of comfort, a lower value. I have finally accepted the fact that people do this, and I have tried to understand why. There are several explanations, different for different individuals.
One explanation, which I infer partly from introspection, is mistaken methodology. This individual starts with a lifestyle--his particular set of ways of living, such as hobbies, kind of housing, dining habits, and form of transportation. Then he tries to fit his central purpose in life into that lifestyle. He cannot make it fit. The result? Instead of adjusting his lifestyle, he abandons his central purpose in life. He abandons "I love" for a set of comforting "I like" choices.
A SOLUTION. I know from personal experience, including 15 lost years, that this method--trying to integrate a central purpose in life into a predetermined lifestyle--is backwards. The proper place to start is with the central purpose, not a preferred lifestyle. Why?
"A central purpose serves to integrate all the other concerns of a man's life. It establishes the hierarchy, the relative importance, of his values, it saves him from pointless inner conflicts, it permits him to enjoy life on a wide scale and to carry that enjoyment into any area open to his mind; whereas a man without a purpose is lost in chaos."[2]
A central purpose is the foundation from which to build a life. By contrast, choosing (or defaulting to) a central purpose life by the standard of a lifestyle is like defining by nonessentials: a reversal of cause and effect. Imagine a young student of architecture in a school of his choice in New England. He likes to swim outdoors. He learns that he can do so, year-round, in the Dominican Republic. He leaves architecture school, moves to the Dominican Republic, and becomes a bookkeeper to earn an income--but swims outdoors every day.
To sacrifice passionate productive purpose for the sake of comfort (or any other lesser objective value) is the third greatest sacrifice. It causes the second greatest sacrifice, unnecessary unhappiness; and it leads to the greatest sacrifice, a wasted life.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] Ayn Rand, "Sacrifice," Ayn Rand Lexicon, p. 429. [2] Ayn Rand, "Purpose," Ayn Rand Lexicon, p. 398.
May 20, 2008
What is a central purpose in life?
[Jan. 31, 2011. My latest and final version of this post appears in the "What is a central purpose in life?" section of the Appendix to my latest book, The Power and the Glory, described here: reasonversusmysticism.com]
Ayn Rand's CPL was the "presentation of an ideal man" in various forms of literary art--a prose-poem, short stories, plays, movie scripts, and novels.[1] At age 50, two-thirds of the way through her life, she fulfilled that purpose to the maximum degree with the publication of Atlas Shrugged. In that novel, the protagonist is John Galt, a complete portrayal of her ideal man as well as the basic elements of "the philosophy that made him possible."[2] At that point she re-examined her CPL. She decided to devote the remainder of her life to defending that ideal by further developing and then speaking and writing about the underlying philosophy, a philosophy of reason.[3] In my view, the essential elements of her CPL--portraying the ideal man--remained the same, and only particular activities changed. She continued to portray the ideal man but, as she had all along, by functioning as an ideal man in terms of the philosophical values and virtues of her own philosophy.
For a third example, consider a particular student of intellectual history. He defines his CPL as telling success stories from history. By doing so, he brings together tasks such as research, outlining, writing, and editing. He moves from project to project, from book to book, or article to article, but his CPL subsumes all of them.
THE NATURE OF A CPL. First, a CPL is a statement of action. It takes this form: "My central purpose in life is to ...," followed by an action word (for example, "design," "portray," "tell," or "write") that names a form of production. What is being produced? Something of high value to the producer and, ideally, to others in society who might wish to buy the product.
Second, a CPL is an abstraction, one that subsumes and integrates the many particular productive tasks in which a man engages to support his ultimate purpose in life, happiness. A simple metaphor for the relationship between a man's ultimate purpose and his CPL is a great tent, which is a life of happiness. Its main (but not only) tent-pole is his CPL. Other high purposes holding up the "tent" might be social relationships and a favorite leisure activity. Howard Roark loves designing and constructing buildings. He loves Dominique Francon and befriends Mike the construction worker. When time permits, he enjoys swimming.
Third, while the need for a CPL is philosophical--applying to everyone, everywhere, at all times in history--a particular person's formulation of his CPL is a personal statement, that is, it is tailored to (1) who he is as an individual, (2) what he wants to do, and (3) the world in which he lives. (A CPL is objective when it is drawn logically from all three facts, though the initial trail leading to its formulation might be a strong, persistent, positive emotional response to certain sets of activities that he later learns to state abstractly.)
Fourth, and ideally, a CPL should provide an income, thus paying one's way through life, at some level. Carpenters, architects, and some fiction writers earn an income from implementing their personal CPLs and selling their products--their labor, designs, or novels. However, for some CPLs, such as writing poetry, there may be too much competition or too little demand to provide a sufficient and steady income (at least during the first decades). In such cases, the passionate valuer might hold an intermittent, part-time, or full-time "day-job" to earn enough money to meet his minimal needs, while devoting as many hours as he can to the work he loves. A poet, for example, might work as a warehouseman because: he can mentally walk away from the job at the end of each workday and then devote his attention to his poems; he can work limited, predictable hours, freeing time for his art; and his warehouse skills are easily transferable elsewhere if he decides to move. On the other hand, a man who loves reading and critiquing poetry, but not writing it, would not need a "day job," but could develop a financially rewarding CPL as a full-time university teacher of poetry.
WHAT A CPL IS NOT. First, a central purpose in life is not primarily a statement of being, but a statement of doing. Of course, for convenience in communicating with others, a CPL might initially be stated most concisely as being a certain kind of producer: an architect (who designs and constructs buildings), a soldier (who destroys his country's enemies), a carpenter (who manipulates wood to fit human needs), or a doctor (who treats illnesses). However, a full statement of a CPL should identify the essential (causal) productive activity: portray, tell, write, construct, and so forth.
Second, a CPL is not merely a career, which is an ever-more demanding progression of jobs (or projects). A physician might progress from general science student, to medical student, to intern, to physician in private practice or a staff position in research or administration. That progression of jobs is a career. Each job, in turn, includes a combination of particular tasks such as diagnosis, treatment, report writing, and leadership. As an abstraction, a CPL subsumes the particulars of career, jobs, and tasks but it is not any one of them. As a broad abstraction, a CPL subsumes a vast number of details in a variety of circumstances and potentially over the span of one's life. In this sense, having a clear, concise, objective CPL is a tool of integration--that is, of finding "the one in the many."
Third, a CPL is not a statement of philosophical values or virtues. "Act rationally," "integrate logically," and "solve 'mysteries' in life" are not proper statements of a CPL, but identifications of what everyone needs to do in order to achieve his CPL and other purposes in life. A CPL is a personal, possibly unique, statement of productive purpose, a purpose that need not be attractive to anyone else.
CRITERIA FOR FORMULATING A CPL. What criteria should a CPL meet if it is properly formulated? First, it must be objective, that is, drawn logically from the facts of who you are, the nature of the productive activity, and the nature of the world in which you live. Second, as an abstraction, it must be broad enough to subsume a variety of circumstances, activities, jobs, and perhaps even more than one career. Third, it must be an active statement that you can expand or shrink as you need from moment to moment. A long-form statement should be specific enough to help you start planning the main steps of your career. A short-form statement of the same CPL will help you recall it quickly and thereby help you "refuel" and keep yourself on track in moments of turmoil, fatigue, or temporary loss. Fourth, it must be ambitious enough to make you "stretch" to fulfill it, but feasible enough to offer a probability of success. (If you do not succeed at your CPL, you will not be happy, though you might still earn second prize, which is the great satisfaction that arises from knowing you did everything you could have done.)[4]
A central purpose in life is not all of life, but it is the core of life.[5]
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] For Ayn Rand's statements of her central purpose in life: The Romantic Manifesto, pp. 161 and 163 (hardback), in Ch. 10, "The Goal of My Writing." Ayn Rand also used the terms "portrayal" and "projection," apparently as synonyms of "presentation." In the title of the chapter she speaks of a "goal," and in the main text she speaks of "purpose," "first cause," "prime mover," "motive," and "ultimate literary goal." For me, here is an unresolved problem: What is the distinction between the ideas named by the words "goal," "value," and "purpose"? Do they all refer to essentially the same thing--something we want that requires action to achieve--but perhaps as seen from different perspectives? Or do they refer to essentially different things? I do not yet have an answer. I welcome one. [2] For the comment about Atlas Shrugged completing her ambitious literary quest, see her biographer's description, from which I have quoted: Jeff Britting, Ayn Rand, pp. 87-88 and 91. (Available from The Ayn Rand Bookstore.) [3] For the change in Rand's CPL: Britting, Ayn Rand, p. 92. [4] For Ayn Rand's distinction between happiness and satisfaction: Mary Ann and Charles Sures, Facets of Ayn Rand, pp. 74-76. (Available from The Ayn Rand Bookstore.) [5] For Ayn Rand's comments on CPL and subjects related to a CPL, see the entries for Purpose, Productivity, Career, Ultimate Value, and Happiness in The Ayn Rand Lexicon. (Available from The Ayn Rand Bookstore.)
May 2, 2008
What is "essentializing"?
As a student of history and philosophy, one of the best items of advice that I have received is: "Learn how to essentialize." So, I have been a student of essentializing, and I am still looking for ways to improve. Following is my interim summary.
WHAT IS ESSENTIALIZING? As a noun, the term essential is shorthand for the phrase "essential characteristic." Characteristic of what? Of any existent--a table, a man, a society, or a philosophy.[1]
In a metaphysical (ontological) perspective, an essential is a certain kind of feature of a thing--a feature that causes all, most, or many of the thing's other characteristics to be what they are.[2] For example, in a philosophical (not biological) context, an essential characteristic of man is his ability to reason. That ability does not cause his chromosome count to be what it is, but his ability to reason does enable him to write symphonies, plan a garden, design a computer program, choose a suitable spouse, measure a board for framing a new house, and debate laws.
BENEFITS. Epistemologically, an essential is a characteristic which explains all, most, or many of the other characteristics of a thing. (What is a cause in reality is an explanation in cognition of that reality.)[3]
As a second benefit, identifying essential characteristics also allows me to simplify my mental activities. Holding all of a thing's characteristics in mind at one time is impossible. Rather than needing to remember thousands of characteristics of a thing, when I think of that thing, I can remember an essential characteristic that causes and thereby explains all, most, or many of the other characteristics.
When I recall the definition of a thing, I am recalling its essential characteristics. A table is an "item of furniture, consisting of a flat, level surface and supports, intended to support other, smaller objects."[4] In part, its essential characteristics are its structure (a flat surface raised off the floor to a level accessible to human hands) and its purpose (to support other objects in a way accessible from all sides). Remembering structure and purpose is much easier than trying to remember a table's many other, inessential characteristics.
A METHOD. Essentializing is a mental method. It is looking for the underlying characteristic of a thing -- whether the thing is a perceptible object, such as a table, or a set of wide abstractions, such as a philosophy. For example, an examination of Ayn Rand's philosophy leads to an identification of an essential characteristic ("essence") of Objectivism as the concept of objectivity.
The process of essentializing is analogous to harvesting a carrot: Follow the many little green leaves to the single large root, and then extract it. The process of essentializing is a form of integration, that is, a form of finding the One from which the Many appear.[5] Consider an example. For students of philosophy of history, Leonard Peikoff has sketched a method of finding the philosophical roots (the fundamental ideas that cause it to be what it is) of a particular society, such as Germany in the 1920s.[6] Generalizing his comments further, I would suggest that the method of essentializing has four main steps:
1. Immerse yourself in identifying the many characteristics of the thing you are examining. The question to ask at this stage is Aristotle's basic question of all inquiry: "What is it?"[7] Whatever you are studying -- whether a new life-form in the jungle of the Amazon River Valley or a long paragraph in a philosophy textbook -- ask yourself particular questions whose answers will help you characterize the object. Examples for a physical object are: How much does it weigh? What color is it? Does it have parts? If so, how do they interconnect? At this stage, do not be concerned with the importance, breadth, or relationship of the characteristics. Simply collect them.
2. Classify the answers. For example, for a rare monkey, red hands and purple ears might fall under the heading of skin color, and skin color and shape of eyes fall under the heading of physical characteristics.
3. Sort the characteristics by fundamentality--that is, by cause and effect. Which of the characteristics are effects, and which are causes of other characteristics? An illustration: Philosophically speaking, man's ability to reason is a cause (an enabling cause) of man's ability to create music--not vice versa.
4. Look for the characteristic that explains most other characteristics. It is the essential characteristic. Sometimes, the thing being essentialized may have more than one essential characteristic. For example, an essential characteristic of Nazi philosophy was a set of three ideas--irrationalism (in epistemology), altruism (in ethics), and racial collectivism (in politics)--working together.[8]
CONCLUSION. What is the essential nature of the method of essentializing? Ask questions to find the "root," the characteristic of a thing that causes and thereby explains all, most, or many of the other characteristics of the thing.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] For Ayn Rand's discussion of essential characteristics: Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology, Ch. 5 ("Definitions"), especially pp. 42, 45-46, and 52; also see pp. 230-231. Leonard Peikoff discusses essentializing in Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand, pp. 96-101. [2] For the meaning of "fundamental" and "essential," see: Ayn Rand, ITOE, p. 45. [3] For the distinctions between metaphysically fundamental as cause and epistemologically essential as explanation: Rand, ITOE, 2nd ed., p. 45. [4] For the quoted definition of "table," see: Rand, ITOE,, 2nd ed., p. 41. [5] For integration: Leonard Peikoff, OPAR, p. 77. [6] For the example of philosophical detection, a form of essentializing, in analyzing a culture: Leonard Peikoff, Ominous Parallels, pp. 143-144. [7] For the basic questions of inquiry: Aristotle, Analytica Posteriora, Bk. I, Ch. 1, lines 89b21-25. [8] For the essential philosophical characteristics ("the essence") of Nazism: Peikoff, Ominous Parallels, p. 97.
WHAT IS ESSENTIALIZING? As a noun, the term essential is shorthand for the phrase "essential characteristic." Characteristic of what? Of any existent--a table, a man, a society, or a philosophy.[1]
In a metaphysical (ontological) perspective, an essential is a certain kind of feature of a thing--a feature that causes all, most, or many of the thing's other characteristics to be what they are.[2] For example, in a philosophical (not biological) context, an essential characteristic of man is his ability to reason. That ability does not cause his chromosome count to be what it is, but his ability to reason does enable him to write symphonies, plan a garden, design a computer program, choose a suitable spouse, measure a board for framing a new house, and debate laws.
BENEFITS. Epistemologically, an essential is a characteristic which explains all, most, or many of the other characteristics of a thing. (What is a cause in reality is an explanation in cognition of that reality.)[3]
As a second benefit, identifying essential characteristics also allows me to simplify my mental activities. Holding all of a thing's characteristics in mind at one time is impossible. Rather than needing to remember thousands of characteristics of a thing, when I think of that thing, I can remember an essential characteristic that causes and thereby explains all, most, or many of the other characteristics.
When I recall the definition of a thing, I am recalling its essential characteristics. A table is an "item of furniture, consisting of a flat, level surface and supports, intended to support other, smaller objects."[4] In part, its essential characteristics are its structure (a flat surface raised off the floor to a level accessible to human hands) and its purpose (to support other objects in a way accessible from all sides). Remembering structure and purpose is much easier than trying to remember a table's many other, inessential characteristics.
A METHOD. Essentializing is a mental method. It is looking for the underlying characteristic of a thing -- whether the thing is a perceptible object, such as a table, or a set of wide abstractions, such as a philosophy. For example, an examination of Ayn Rand's philosophy leads to an identification of an essential characteristic ("essence") of Objectivism as the concept of objectivity.
The process of essentializing is analogous to harvesting a carrot: Follow the many little green leaves to the single large root, and then extract it. The process of essentializing is a form of integration, that is, a form of finding the One from which the Many appear.[5] Consider an example. For students of philosophy of history, Leonard Peikoff has sketched a method of finding the philosophical roots (the fundamental ideas that cause it to be what it is) of a particular society, such as Germany in the 1920s.[6] Generalizing his comments further, I would suggest that the method of essentializing has four main steps:
1. Immerse yourself in identifying the many characteristics of the thing you are examining. The question to ask at this stage is Aristotle's basic question of all inquiry: "What is it?"[7] Whatever you are studying -- whether a new life-form in the jungle of the Amazon River Valley or a long paragraph in a philosophy textbook -- ask yourself particular questions whose answers will help you characterize the object. Examples for a physical object are: How much does it weigh? What color is it? Does it have parts? If so, how do they interconnect? At this stage, do not be concerned with the importance, breadth, or relationship of the characteristics. Simply collect them.
2. Classify the answers. For example, for a rare monkey, red hands and purple ears might fall under the heading of skin color, and skin color and shape of eyes fall under the heading of physical characteristics.
3. Sort the characteristics by fundamentality--that is, by cause and effect. Which of the characteristics are effects, and which are causes of other characteristics? An illustration: Philosophically speaking, man's ability to reason is a cause (an enabling cause) of man's ability to create music--not vice versa.
4. Look for the characteristic that explains most other characteristics. It is the essential characteristic. Sometimes, the thing being essentialized may have more than one essential characteristic. For example, an essential characteristic of Nazi philosophy was a set of three ideas--irrationalism (in epistemology), altruism (in ethics), and racial collectivism (in politics)--working together.[8]
CONCLUSION. What is the essential nature of the method of essentializing? Ask questions to find the "root," the characteristic of a thing that causes and thereby explains all, most, or many of the other characteristics of the thing.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] For Ayn Rand's discussion of essential characteristics: Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology, Ch. 5 ("Definitions"), especially pp. 42, 45-46, and 52; also see pp. 230-231. Leonard Peikoff discusses essentializing in Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand, pp. 96-101. [2] For the meaning of "fundamental" and "essential," see: Ayn Rand, ITOE, p. 45. [3] For the distinctions between metaphysically fundamental as cause and epistemologically essential as explanation: Rand, ITOE, 2nd ed., p. 45. [4] For the quoted definition of "table," see: Rand, ITOE,, 2nd ed., p. 41. [5] For integration: Leonard Peikoff, OPAR, p. 77. [6] For the example of philosophical detection, a form of essentializing, in analyzing a culture: Leonard Peikoff, Ominous Parallels, pp. 143-144. [7] For the basic questions of inquiry: Aristotle, Analytica Posteriora, Bk. I, Ch. 1, lines 89b21-25. [8] For the essential philosophical characteristics ("the essence") of Nazism: Peikoff, Ominous Parallels, p. 97.
Apr 17, 2008
In Hebrews 11.1, what is "faith"?
Leonard Peikoff notes that Aquinas is "the greatest of all religious thinkers," one who openly champions reason--with faith as a supplement.[1] In this post, my purpose--as a layman, not as a specialist--is to suggest an interpretation of a Biblical passage that underlies Aquinas's view of faith.[2]
The passage is Chapter 11, Verse 1 of The Letter to the Hebrews, in the Christian New Testament. The anonymous author of the Letter probably lived c. 100 CE.[3]
Verse 1 is the theme statement for Hebrews Ch. 11. It says, "... faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Subsequent verses chronologically present examples of Old Testament men and women who had faith.
Now take a closer look at the two main parts of the Letter writer's definition.
1. The things hoped for are values. Judging from the context, the values are not merely any values, but a Christian's highest values, such as everlasting life in heaven. (Verse 16 says that for those who have faith, "God ... has prepared for them a city," presumably the City of God, as Augustine will later call it.)[4] Thus, half of faith is having confidence in receiving something of value--in the next world. In part, this is a matter of ethics, one branch of the Christian worldview.
2. In the second half of the writer's definition, the conviction of things not seen is belief in ideas which have no basis in sense-perception of this world. Earlier in the New Testament, in The Second Letter to the Corinthians, 5.7, the writer, the apostle Paul (Saul of Tarsus), encourages Christians to walk in this world by faith, not by sight. That is appropriate advice if this "world was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was made out of things which do not appear" (Hebrews 11.3). Such advice is a matter of epistemology and metaphysics (ontology), two more branches in the Christian worldview.
Conclusion: The anonymous writer of the Letter to the Hebrews is presumably competing with Judaism, Roman paganism, and other religions in his time. To a steadily growing, potentially Christian audience, he offers the essentials of an integrated worldview. The metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics of early Christianity are interlocked: An invisible God created this world from nothing; and He tells us, without offering evidence, to spend our miserable, sinful lives seeking values available only after we die and, even then, in another world.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] Leonard Peikoff, "Religion versus America," The Objectivist Forum, June, 1986 (Vol. 7), New York, TOF Publications, 1993, pp. 3 and 7-8. The same essay appears in The Voice of Reason. [2] Mark D. Jordan, translator and editor of On Faith: Summa theologiae, Part 2-2, Questions 1-16 of St. Thomas Aquinas, Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 1990, p. 14, lists Hebrews 11 and First Corinthians 13.2 as two passages underlying Thomas's view of faith. [3] For discussion of the identity of the author of The Letter to the Hebrews: Pheme Perkins, Reading the New Testament: An Introduction, second ("revised") edition, New York, Paulist Press, 1988, Ch. 17 ("Hebrews"), pp. 270, 272 and 273. [4] The Biblical quotations come from The Holy Bible: Revised Standard Version, Meridian Books, 1962.
The passage is Chapter 11, Verse 1 of The Letter to the Hebrews, in the Christian New Testament. The anonymous author of the Letter probably lived c. 100 CE.[3]
Verse 1 is the theme statement for Hebrews Ch. 11. It says, "... faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Subsequent verses chronologically present examples of Old Testament men and women who had faith.
Now take a closer look at the two main parts of the Letter writer's definition.
1. The things hoped for are values. Judging from the context, the values are not merely any values, but a Christian's highest values, such as everlasting life in heaven. (Verse 16 says that for those who have faith, "God ... has prepared for them a city," presumably the City of God, as Augustine will later call it.)[4] Thus, half of faith is having confidence in receiving something of value--in the next world. In part, this is a matter of ethics, one branch of the Christian worldview.
2. In the second half of the writer's definition, the conviction of things not seen is belief in ideas which have no basis in sense-perception of this world. Earlier in the New Testament, in The Second Letter to the Corinthians, 5.7, the writer, the apostle Paul (Saul of Tarsus), encourages Christians to walk in this world by faith, not by sight. That is appropriate advice if this "world was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was made out of things which do not appear" (Hebrews 11.3). Such advice is a matter of epistemology and metaphysics (ontology), two more branches in the Christian worldview.
Conclusion: The anonymous writer of the Letter to the Hebrews is presumably competing with Judaism, Roman paganism, and other religions in his time. To a steadily growing, potentially Christian audience, he offers the essentials of an integrated worldview. The metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics of early Christianity are interlocked: An invisible God created this world from nothing; and He tells us, without offering evidence, to spend our miserable, sinful lives seeking values available only after we die and, even then, in another world.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] Leonard Peikoff, "Religion versus America," The Objectivist Forum, June, 1986 (Vol. 7), New York, TOF Publications, 1993, pp. 3 and 7-8. The same essay appears in The Voice of Reason. [2] Mark D. Jordan, translator and editor of On Faith: Summa theologiae, Part 2-2, Questions 1-16 of St. Thomas Aquinas, Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 1990, p. 14, lists Hebrews 11 and First Corinthians 13.2 as two passages underlying Thomas's view of faith. [3] For discussion of the identity of the author of The Letter to the Hebrews: Pheme Perkins, Reading the New Testament: An Introduction, second ("revised") edition, New York, Paulist Press, 1988, Ch. 17 ("Hebrews"), pp. 270, 272 and 273. [4] The Biblical quotations come from The Holy Bible: Revised Standard Version, Meridian Books, 1962.
Apr 4, 2008
Philosophical Ripples?
My purpose in these notes is to summarize my understanding of the general process of spreading a philosophy.
TRANSMISSION vs. DISSEMINATION
Philosophical transmission is the passage of a philosophy from one generation to the next or from one society to another. In the west, a long line of scholars transmitted Aristotle's philosophy from Greek society to Roman society; in the east, Greek writers transmitted it to Syriac and then Arabic society; and from these earlier cultures, scholars transmitted it to the world of Thomas Aquinas.
In contrast, philosophical dissemination is the passage of a philosophy down a socio-intellectual hierarchy from a philosopher to the man in the street, within one society. The philosophers of the Italian Renaissance disseminated Aristotle's philosophy into their society--as some philosophers are today disseminating Ayn Rand's philosophy, Objectivism, into modern society.
CHAIN OF DISSEMINATION
A new philosophy enters a society like a stone dropping into a pond. The effects ripple through the society.[1] The ripples pass along a chain of individuals.
1. Primary philosophers create radically new philosophical systems. Each presents his philosophy to a few students. In the 2500-year history of philosophy, only four primary philosophers have emerged: Plato, Aristotle, Kant, and Rand.[2]
2. In the generations following the introduction of each primary philosophy, secondary philosophers build their own philosophical systems. Whereas primary philosophers create radically new philosophical ideas and integrate them into a system, secondary philosophers start with some of the essential elements of a primary philosopher's system and then develop their own variation from those and other essential elements. Example secondary philosophers are Plotinus (600 years after Plato) and Kierkegaard (50 years after Kant).
Primary and secondary philosophers systematize their philosophical ideas in their thinking but not in their presentations of their own philosophies. Perhaps the reason for the lack of a single-volume presentation of the whole philosophy is that each primary and secondary philosopher is fascinated with (1) solving particular philosophical problems (such as the problem of universals) and (2) mentally integrating the solutions into a system, but he is bored with presenting the system as a whole to beginners.
3. Tertiary philosophers are individuals who immerse themselves in a primary or secondary philosophy but do not create systems of their own. Example tertiary philosophizers are academics who (1) think about and teach philosophy fulltime; (2) specialize in the study of a particular philosophical system; (3) adopt it as their own; (4) make its implicit elements explicit; and (5) systematically present it in their own lectures and books. A partial example is John Rawls (chairman of the Department of Philosophy at Harvard and author of Theory of Justice); he applied Kant's metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics to his own politics of egalitarianism.[3]
4. Philosophers of the sciences develop the basic principles (the foundation, the "philosophy") of each science. Example specialized sciences are physics, history, and psychology. Unlike primary, secondary, and tertiary philosophers, philosophers of science characteristically do not work directly with whole philosophical systems. Philosophers of science apply parts of a philosophy--especially its metaphysics and epistemology--to their particular field. For example, besides being a physicist, Galileo (1564-1642) was a philosopher of the emerging science of physics. He placed physics partly on a foundation of Aristotle's philosophical method--logic--and partly on elements of Aristotle's epistemology.[4]
5. Intellectuals apply philosophical principles (formulated by others) to their specialized studies in particular sciences and arts. Intellectuals continue the process of selecting pieces of a whole philosophy for narrower applications. Thus intellectuals develop and spread new specialized ideas as well as philosophical ideas. Example intellectuals are university professors who think about, write about, and lecture on specialized sciences. Today, in such fields as economics, biology, architecture, political science, art criticism, and history, intellectuals write and lecture outside universities too -- e.g., in "think-tanks" and specialized weblogs.
An intellectual activist is a person who (1) is intrigued by at least some philosophical principles and their application to his milieu, and (2) takes action to spread the applications and their underlying philosophical principles into his society. An intellectual activist, as distinct from a professional intellectual, need not be an originator of new ideas.
(The term "intellectual" can also be used very broadly to name anyone who is concerned about fundamental ideas and their application to society; in this sense, "intellectual" is not a matter of profession but of interest.)
6. Broadcasters further disseminate particular philosophical ideas (e.g., "Nobody can be certain of anything") and their applications ("Someone has to help the people who do not plan for their old-age"). Broadcasters do not develop new ideas, either philosophical or specialized. Example broadcasters can be teachers in lower schools, local newspaper columnists, and intellectually articulate politicians--but not all teachers, columnists, and politicians are broadcasters. Broadcasters spread philosophical ideas and their applications by talking directly to the "man in the street," for instance, to the truck driver whose actual philosophy ("Aw, hell, who knows--and who cares anyway?") determines whether he accelerates or brakes as he drives toward you when you walk across an intersection.[6]
UNDERLYING PRINCIPLE OF DISSEMINATION
Philosophically, the idea that underlies dissemination is the movement from the universal to the particular. Each disseminator applies a philosophy more narrowly (while implicitly retaining the whole). Socially, the process of dissemination affects more and more people. Thus, in dissemination from a primary philosopher to truck drivers, the philosophical and social hierarchies are parallel.[7]
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] For innovative, general insight into the hierarchy of a philosophical army: Ayn Rand, For the New Intellectual: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand, hardback, p. 25. To better meet my needs as a student of history, I have added stages in the hierarchy and I have used additional terminology.
[2] For the idea of primary philosophers: Dr. Andrew Bernstein's recorded lecture, "Four Giants of Philosophy"; and Dr. Gary Hull's recorded lecture, "The Two False Theories of Concepts." Both lectures are available from The Ayn Rand Bookstore.
[3] For an example of a primary philosopher's influence, 175 years later, on an academic philosophizer: indirectly, a discussion of work by John Rawls (a Harvard philosophy professor, author of *A Theory of Justice*) in Ayn Rand, "An Untitled Letter," Philosophy: Who Needs it, pp. 131-137 and 140-144. For the transmission and dissemination of Kantianism, from Kant to Rawls: Leonard Peikoff, Ominous Parallel, especially Chs. 2, 6, 14 and 15.
[4] For Galileo as philosopher of science and as scientist: "Preface," William A Wallace, Galileo Logic's of Discovery and Proof: The Background, Content, and Use of His Appropriated Treatises on Aristotle's Posterior Analytics, Vol. 137 (a philosophy of science series), Kluwer Academic Publishers, Boston, 1992. As elsewhere, I am offering this example tentatively. I am not a specialist in any of their philosophies.
[5] For philosophy's effect on the man in the street: Ayn Rand, Philosophy: Who Needs It, p. 5 of the title essay.
[6] I have discussed dissemination here only as a process of spreading ideas down a social hierarchy. Dissemination also includes spreading ideas "laterally," for example, tertiary philosophers who have adopted Kant's philosophy may advocate that philosophy to their peers, inside or outside of academia.
[7] "Enablers" can play a role at each stage of dissemination, but without themselves being disseminators of the ideas. For example, a philosophically mute but wealthy businsessman might provide free lodging to a philosopher who is developing a book presenting a key element of his new philosophy; a scientist immersed in his own specialized work might donate part of his salary to an institution dedicated to spreading a particular philosophy; and a carpenter might donate a new philosopher's book to a local library.
TRANSMISSION vs. DISSEMINATION
Philosophical transmission is the passage of a philosophy from one generation to the next or from one society to another. In the west, a long line of scholars transmitted Aristotle's philosophy from Greek society to Roman society; in the east, Greek writers transmitted it to Syriac and then Arabic society; and from these earlier cultures, scholars transmitted it to the world of Thomas Aquinas.
In contrast, philosophical dissemination is the passage of a philosophy down a socio-intellectual hierarchy from a philosopher to the man in the street, within one society. The philosophers of the Italian Renaissance disseminated Aristotle's philosophy into their society--as some philosophers are today disseminating Ayn Rand's philosophy, Objectivism, into modern society.
CHAIN OF DISSEMINATION
A new philosophy enters a society like a stone dropping into a pond. The effects ripple through the society.[1] The ripples pass along a chain of individuals.
1. Primary philosophers create radically new philosophical systems. Each presents his philosophy to a few students. In the 2500-year history of philosophy, only four primary philosophers have emerged: Plato, Aristotle, Kant, and Rand.[2]
2. In the generations following the introduction of each primary philosophy, secondary philosophers build their own philosophical systems. Whereas primary philosophers create radically new philosophical ideas and integrate them into a system, secondary philosophers start with some of the essential elements of a primary philosopher's system and then develop their own variation from those and other essential elements. Example secondary philosophers are Plotinus (600 years after Plato) and Kierkegaard (50 years after Kant).
Primary and secondary philosophers systematize their philosophical ideas in their thinking but not in their presentations of their own philosophies. Perhaps the reason for the lack of a single-volume presentation of the whole philosophy is that each primary and secondary philosopher is fascinated with (1) solving particular philosophical problems (such as the problem of universals) and (2) mentally integrating the solutions into a system, but he is bored with presenting the system as a whole to beginners.
3. Tertiary philosophers are individuals who immerse themselves in a primary or secondary philosophy but do not create systems of their own. Example tertiary philosophizers are academics who (1) think about and teach philosophy fulltime; (2) specialize in the study of a particular philosophical system; (3) adopt it as their own; (4) make its implicit elements explicit; and (5) systematically present it in their own lectures and books. A partial example is John Rawls (chairman of the Department of Philosophy at Harvard and author of Theory of Justice); he applied Kant's metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics to his own politics of egalitarianism.[3]
4. Philosophers of the sciences develop the basic principles (the foundation, the "philosophy") of each science. Example specialized sciences are physics, history, and psychology. Unlike primary, secondary, and tertiary philosophers, philosophers of science characteristically do not work directly with whole philosophical systems. Philosophers of science apply parts of a philosophy--especially its metaphysics and epistemology--to their particular field. For example, besides being a physicist, Galileo (1564-1642) was a philosopher of the emerging science of physics. He placed physics partly on a foundation of Aristotle's philosophical method--logic--and partly on elements of Aristotle's epistemology.[4]
5. Intellectuals apply philosophical principles (formulated by others) to their specialized studies in particular sciences and arts. Intellectuals continue the process of selecting pieces of a whole philosophy for narrower applications. Thus intellectuals develop and spread new specialized ideas as well as philosophical ideas. Example intellectuals are university professors who think about, write about, and lecture on specialized sciences. Today, in such fields as economics, biology, architecture, political science, art criticism, and history, intellectuals write and lecture outside universities too -- e.g., in "think-tanks" and specialized weblogs.
An intellectual activist is a person who (1) is intrigued by at least some philosophical principles and their application to his milieu, and (2) takes action to spread the applications and their underlying philosophical principles into his society. An intellectual activist, as distinct from a professional intellectual, need not be an originator of new ideas.
(The term "intellectual" can also be used very broadly to name anyone who is concerned about fundamental ideas and their application to society; in this sense, "intellectual" is not a matter of profession but of interest.)
6. Broadcasters further disseminate particular philosophical ideas (e.g., "Nobody can be certain of anything") and their applications ("Someone has to help the people who do not plan for their old-age"). Broadcasters do not develop new ideas, either philosophical or specialized. Example broadcasters can be teachers in lower schools, local newspaper columnists, and intellectually articulate politicians--but not all teachers, columnists, and politicians are broadcasters. Broadcasters spread philosophical ideas and their applications by talking directly to the "man in the street," for instance, to the truck driver whose actual philosophy ("Aw, hell, who knows--and who cares anyway?") determines whether he accelerates or brakes as he drives toward you when you walk across an intersection.[6]
UNDERLYING PRINCIPLE OF DISSEMINATION
Philosophically, the idea that underlies dissemination is the movement from the universal to the particular. Each disseminator applies a philosophy more narrowly (while implicitly retaining the whole). Socially, the process of dissemination affects more and more people. Thus, in dissemination from a primary philosopher to truck drivers, the philosophical and social hierarchies are parallel.[7]
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] For innovative, general insight into the hierarchy of a philosophical army: Ayn Rand, For the New Intellectual: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand, hardback, p. 25. To better meet my needs as a student of history, I have added stages in the hierarchy and I have used additional terminology.
[2] For the idea of primary philosophers: Dr. Andrew Bernstein's recorded lecture, "Four Giants of Philosophy"; and Dr. Gary Hull's recorded lecture, "The Two False Theories of Concepts." Both lectures are available from The Ayn Rand Bookstore.
[3] For an example of a primary philosopher's influence, 175 years later, on an academic philosophizer: indirectly, a discussion of work by John Rawls (a Harvard philosophy professor, author of *A Theory of Justice*) in Ayn Rand, "An Untitled Letter," Philosophy: Who Needs it, pp. 131-137 and 140-144. For the transmission and dissemination of Kantianism, from Kant to Rawls: Leonard Peikoff, Ominous Parallel, especially Chs. 2, 6, 14 and 15.
[4] For Galileo as philosopher of science and as scientist: "Preface," William A Wallace, Galileo Logic's of Discovery and Proof: The Background, Content, and Use of His Appropriated Treatises on Aristotle's Posterior Analytics, Vol. 137 (a philosophy of science series), Kluwer Academic Publishers, Boston, 1992. As elsewhere, I am offering this example tentatively. I am not a specialist in any of their philosophies.
[5] For philosophy's effect on the man in the street: Ayn Rand, Philosophy: Who Needs It, p. 5 of the title essay.
[6] I have discussed dissemination here only as a process of spreading ideas down a social hierarchy. Dissemination also includes spreading ideas "laterally," for example, tertiary philosophers who have adopted Kant's philosophy may advocate that philosophy to their peers, inside or outside of academia.
[7] "Enablers" can play a role at each stage of dissemination, but without themselves being disseminators of the ideas. For example, a philosophically mute but wealthy businsessman might provide free lodging to a philosopher who is developing a book presenting a key element of his new philosophy; a scientist immersed in his own specialized work might donate part of his salary to an institution dedicated to spreading a particular philosophy; and a carpenter might donate a new philosopher's book to a local library.
Mar 3, 2008
What do historians owe to their audiences?
Having written the Jan. 2 and Jan. 10, 2008 posts as preliminary steps, I can now answer the title question in a straight-forward manner: Historians owe their audiences whatever their contracts require them to provide--and nothing more. If there is no contract, a historian owes his audience nothing. He is free to provide as much information as he chooses to offer.
1. OBJECTION: Doesn't a historian owe his listeners a complete proof of whatever assertions he makes?
No writer or speaker can provide a complete proof. The best that any historical writer or speaker can do is point the way and sketch the major steps of a proof. A complete proof of a complex assertion--e.g., the most fundamental cause of the U. S. Civil War was a radical and mutual opposition in the worldviews of the two sides--could require years of effort and its exact path would differ from one individual to the next according to their differences in knowledge of the subject matter.
2. OBJECTION: Doesn't every historian owe his audience some kind of substantiation for every conclusion he reaches?
No, unless his contract requires him to do so. Take an obvious example first: An editor of a magazine interviews 10 historians and asks them for their conclusions about the role of Aristotle's works on logic in advancing medieval culture toward the Renaissance. Each historian complies--by providing his conclusions and nothing more. The editor then collects the 10 conclusions and publishes them in an article on the diversity of views among historians. Some readers might be left with wanting more. Too bad. If they want more, and are willing to pay for it, in one way or another, then they should do so without complaining that the participating historians were being elitists of the Ivory Tower who won't address their audience on an equal level.
Take another example: An online forum consults a history professor as an (unpaid) expert on the religiosity of John Locke. The professor responds with a very brief answer. His unstated, private purpose is simply to keep his name visible among individuals who might buy his books or attend his for-fee lectures. He promises nothing more. He adjusts the length of his answer to fit his purposes, not the generally unknowable individual purposes of an anonymous audience.
3. OBJECTION: Isn't a historian being arrogant or even arbitrary if all he provides is a terse answer to a question, a question that the asker wants to discuss further or even debate?
This is an issue that comes up especially in formal lectures. For example, listen to the Q&A periods for the first few lectures in Dr. Leonard Peikoff's 2007 discussion of "The DIM Hypothesis" (available through the Ayn Rand Bookstore). In each case, Dr. Peikoff finishes a session (which was typically a walkthrough* of his upcoming book, rather than a formal, self-contained lecture) and then calls for questions.
A few of the questioners do not merely ask a question. Instead, after Dr. Peikoff's answer, they persist in trying to discuss or even debate his answer. The error here is an instance of context-dropping. In particular it is dropping the law of identity as applied to the Q&A sessions. A question-and-answer period is a question-and-answer period. A question-and-answer period is not a discussion period. A question-and-answer period is not a debate forum. Dr. Peikoff rightly refuses to allow individuals in the audience to draw him into either discussion or debate.
If an advertisement for a lecture promises a Q&A session, but makes no other specification, the lecturer is not obligated to turn questions (even if they are pertinent and properly worded) into discussions or debates. If an audience member pays to hear an expert, and the expert speaks, then the audience has heard him. If audience members think the answers are wrong or insufficient for their needs, then the audience members can in the future take their business elsewhere--or, better yet, they can offer a superior product of their own.
In summary, I would say that, in the absence of any contractual requirements to the contrary, no historian has an obligation to provide any particular amount of elaboration or proof of his assertions.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
* A "walkthrough" is a form of communication I witnessed in the electronics industry several decades ago. It was a form used by designers of electronic instrumentation, especially the sofware and firmware aspects. A software designer, for example, would address a small group of other designers, as well as manufacturing and marketing engineers. He would "walk through" his partially completed design, describing its intended functions step by step. In some steps, he could display code that he had written. In other steps, he could show only a block-diagram of what he intended the operation of the software to be when finished. His purpose was to present enough information that his audience could (1) have a general idea of what the design is; and (2) offer informed criticism (that is, pointing out possible errors and offering superior alternatives).
In Dr. Peikoff's 2004 DIM Hypothesis sessions, which are no longer available, he was fully engaged in a walkthrough. He explained the provisional nature of his hypothesis at that time; and he invited criticism. By contrast, Dr. Peikoff's 2007 walkthroughs are, I infer, much more oriented toward presenting his conclusions as a test of his ability to present them and his audience's ability to understand them, as presented, than of their correctness.
1. OBJECTION: Doesn't a historian owe his listeners a complete proof of whatever assertions he makes?
No writer or speaker can provide a complete proof. The best that any historical writer or speaker can do is point the way and sketch the major steps of a proof. A complete proof of a complex assertion--e.g., the most fundamental cause of the U. S. Civil War was a radical and mutual opposition in the worldviews of the two sides--could require years of effort and its exact path would differ from one individual to the next according to their differences in knowledge of the subject matter.
2. OBJECTION: Doesn't every historian owe his audience some kind of substantiation for every conclusion he reaches?
No, unless his contract requires him to do so. Take an obvious example first: An editor of a magazine interviews 10 historians and asks them for their conclusions about the role of Aristotle's works on logic in advancing medieval culture toward the Renaissance. Each historian complies--by providing his conclusions and nothing more. The editor then collects the 10 conclusions and publishes them in an article on the diversity of views among historians. Some readers might be left with wanting more. Too bad. If they want more, and are willing to pay for it, in one way or another, then they should do so without complaining that the participating historians were being elitists of the Ivory Tower who won't address their audience on an equal level.
Take another example: An online forum consults a history professor as an (unpaid) expert on the religiosity of John Locke. The professor responds with a very brief answer. His unstated, private purpose is simply to keep his name visible among individuals who might buy his books or attend his for-fee lectures. He promises nothing more. He adjusts the length of his answer to fit his purposes, not the generally unknowable individual purposes of an anonymous audience.
3. OBJECTION: Isn't a historian being arrogant or even arbitrary if all he provides is a terse answer to a question, a question that the asker wants to discuss further or even debate?
This is an issue that comes up especially in formal lectures. For example, listen to the Q&A periods for the first few lectures in Dr. Leonard Peikoff's 2007 discussion of "The DIM Hypothesis" (available through the Ayn Rand Bookstore). In each case, Dr. Peikoff finishes a session (which was typically a walkthrough* of his upcoming book, rather than a formal, self-contained lecture) and then calls for questions.
A few of the questioners do not merely ask a question. Instead, after Dr. Peikoff's answer, they persist in trying to discuss or even debate his answer. The error here is an instance of context-dropping. In particular it is dropping the law of identity as applied to the Q&A sessions. A question-and-answer period is a question-and-answer period. A question-and-answer period is not a discussion period. A question-and-answer period is not a debate forum. Dr. Peikoff rightly refuses to allow individuals in the audience to draw him into either discussion or debate.
If an advertisement for a lecture promises a Q&A session, but makes no other specification, the lecturer is not obligated to turn questions (even if they are pertinent and properly worded) into discussions or debates. If an audience member pays to hear an expert, and the expert speaks, then the audience has heard him. If audience members think the answers are wrong or insufficient for their needs, then the audience members can in the future take their business elsewhere--or, better yet, they can offer a superior product of their own.
In summary, I would say that, in the absence of any contractual requirements to the contrary, no historian has an obligation to provide any particular amount of elaboration or proof of his assertions.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
* A "walkthrough" is a form of communication I witnessed in the electronics industry several decades ago. It was a form used by designers of electronic instrumentation, especially the sofware and firmware aspects. A software designer, for example, would address a small group of other designers, as well as manufacturing and marketing engineers. He would "walk through" his partially completed design, describing its intended functions step by step. In some steps, he could display code that he had written. In other steps, he could show only a block-diagram of what he intended the operation of the software to be when finished. His purpose was to present enough information that his audience could (1) have a general idea of what the design is; and (2) offer informed criticism (that is, pointing out possible errors and offering superior alternatives).
In Dr. Peikoff's 2004 DIM Hypothesis sessions, which are no longer available, he was fully engaged in a walkthrough. He explained the provisional nature of his hypothesis at that time; and he invited criticism. By contrast, Dr. Peikoff's 2007 walkthroughs are, I infer, much more oriented toward presenting his conclusions as a test of his ability to present them and his audience's ability to understand them, as presented, than of their correctness.
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