Relativism: So What? (Part Three)
Jul. 2nd, 2008 12:40 pmI read an anecdote years ago - think it was from Erik Erikson, probably set in the 1940s. A young man walks into the student rec center, sits down in an armchair, rubs his chin thoughtfully, and says, "Life is strange." A pretty young coed snaps back at him, "Compared to what?"
If "relativism" were the name for a useful attitude rather than a quagmire of inarticulate concerns and projections, that would be the attitude, a way of jogging the intelligence: e.g., when I'm saying something that doesn't seem to be getting across to people, then maybe I need to be precise about what it is that my statement is trying to counter (and by doing so I'll see how to make my idea better); and if other people's words and actions seem inexplicably stupid or strange, maybe I need to ask myself what it is the people are trying to counter or forestall, rather than assuming that they're countering or forestalling what I would be countering and forestalling if I were using their words. I'll point out that this just makes self-conscious what we try to do normally. When we say or do something, we think there's a difference between saying and doing it and not saying or doing it. And when we observe other people we project behind their words and deeds a landscape of reasons and possibilities that sets their behavior off by contrast.
So "relativism" in this sense is the normal state of affairs. There is a line of philosophers who find this state of affairs problematic, but unless I'm dealing with such philosophers I have no reason to assert my "relativism" any more than I need to point out that, like everyone else, I breathe and have a mouth.
So, in order to think that relativism is any kind of a big deal, you have to come up with a different relativism, one that somehow includes this normal relativism but makes it seem threatening or liberating, in any event at odds with the worlds we know rather than a facet of them. You can't do this without making several basic mistakes. You convince yourself that the philosophical ideas that relativism runs counter to are themselves embedded in everyday life, though they're not. You forget that "relative" is itself a relative term. You confuse the meaning of terms; e.g., what I said yesterday: "As a relativist I can say, 'Nothing exists in isolation,' and two minutes later say, 'I grew up in an isolated village,' without contradicting myself, since the standards for isolation are different in the two sentences." So you make the former statement as if it referred to the latter "isolation," to the village's isolation, to the isolation that matters. I don't think it's possible to believe that relativism (or pragmatism or deconstruction) plays a significant role in the world unless you make this sort of mistake.
Future posts will detail the mistakes (so far I've been making assertions rather than arguments). But I'll reiterate that what's at issue here isn't an intellectual mistake, but why smart people make such a mistake. They could just as easily not make the mistake. So what do people gain by making the mistake? The consequences of the mistake don't result from the mistake; rather, the mistake is the result of a desire for such consequences.
If "relativism" were the name for a useful attitude rather than a quagmire of inarticulate concerns and projections, that would be the attitude, a way of jogging the intelligence: e.g., when I'm saying something that doesn't seem to be getting across to people, then maybe I need to be precise about what it is that my statement is trying to counter (and by doing so I'll see how to make my idea better); and if other people's words and actions seem inexplicably stupid or strange, maybe I need to ask myself what it is the people are trying to counter or forestall, rather than assuming that they're countering or forestalling what I would be countering and forestalling if I were using their words. I'll point out that this just makes self-conscious what we try to do normally. When we say or do something, we think there's a difference between saying and doing it and not saying or doing it. And when we observe other people we project behind their words and deeds a landscape of reasons and possibilities that sets their behavior off by contrast.
So "relativism" in this sense is the normal state of affairs. There is a line of philosophers who find this state of affairs problematic, but unless I'm dealing with such philosophers I have no reason to assert my "relativism" any more than I need to point out that, like everyone else, I breathe and have a mouth.
So, in order to think that relativism is any kind of a big deal, you have to come up with a different relativism, one that somehow includes this normal relativism but makes it seem threatening or liberating, in any event at odds with the worlds we know rather than a facet of them. You can't do this without making several basic mistakes. You convince yourself that the philosophical ideas that relativism runs counter to are themselves embedded in everyday life, though they're not. You forget that "relative" is itself a relative term. You confuse the meaning of terms; e.g., what I said yesterday: "As a relativist I can say, 'Nothing exists in isolation,' and two minutes later say, 'I grew up in an isolated village,' without contradicting myself, since the standards for isolation are different in the two sentences." So you make the former statement as if it referred to the latter "isolation," to the village's isolation, to the isolation that matters. I don't think it's possible to believe that relativism (or pragmatism or deconstruction) plays a significant role in the world unless you make this sort of mistake.
Future posts will detail the mistakes (so far I've been making assertions rather than arguments). But I'll reiterate that what's at issue here isn't an intellectual mistake, but why smart people make such a mistake. They could just as easily not make the mistake. So what do people gain by making the mistake? The consequences of the mistake don't result from the mistake; rather, the mistake is the result of a desire for such consequences.
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Date: 2008-07-14 01:17 am (UTC)You're right, and my articulation of this idea is off -- rationalizing after the fact is usually unavoidable, and of course there are good and bad ways to rationalize. In music criticism, I guess what I'm referring to are the BAD judgments -- if I like X band and give them the benefit of the doubt when I listen to their new album, and want to find things to like (for instance) isn't in and of itself a problem. (It's in part how I listened to Bittersweet World, the flipside of that being my expectations were also inflated.) But the foundation of that assumption ("I've liked X before and would love to like X again") isn't necessarily problematic to begin with. So maybe the visceral reaction is bringing out lots of problematic assumptions that, without the music, would lie dormant; and maybe sometimes visceral reaction is creating problematic positions that, without the music, wouldn't for practical purposes even exist (a forever-dormant assumption may as well be a nonexistent one).
Though maybe this is still a longwinded way of saying "call 'em like you see 'em" (and if you think you can see 'em but can't prove it, maybe you shouldn't be so vocally willing to call 'em) -- and my usual complaint in regard to "metaethical" conversations I've had with friends is that metaethics wants to call things without having to see them.
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Date: 2008-07-14 08:53 pm (UTC)Off the top of my head, I'd say: democracy, diversity, multiculturalism, feminism. Actually, we could say that deconstruction supposedly bolsters the policy of dismantling problematic policies. Of course, what "deconstruction" means is all over the place. I tend to think of it as "whatever Derrida did or whatever is done by people who think they're modeling themselves on what Derrida did." Specifically, I was thinking of an argument that
I won't claim ever to have understood anything I've read by Derrida, which isn't that much anyway, but I'm sure Derrida thought of deconstruction as being more than a mere dismantling. There's maybe a family resemblance to the Hegelian aufhebung, which I also don't understand, but which Mark once defined for me as "Think of Cat's Cradle as a theory of knowledge. Someone lifts the string loops off onto their own fingers: their 'theory' destroys yet preserves yours." So there's construction as well as destruction (hence the name "deconstruction"?), and the practice that's being deconstructed itself provides the tools with which you dismantle and construct. Also, Derrida tended to set to work on writers he liked, such as Rousseau and Leví-Strauss.
What I think of as one strategy of deconstruction is to take a practice that believes itself to be self-sufficient and tease out the parts of the practice where it shows itself to be crucially dependent on something that it had considered in its margins or at its limits or external to it altogether. Where I'm skeptical of this "method" having any utility outside of philosophy is that it really works best only on something that's aspiring to 100% absolute self-sufficiency, and you don't get that outside of philosophy or philosophically inclined theology. But I don't really know how much of what I just said is relevant to what's done under the name of "deconstruction." I borrowed
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Date: 2008-07-14 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-14 08:59 pm (UTC)