Monthly Archives: October 2012

Richard Rorty and the false charge of relativism in Pragmatism

Juan Bernal

Recently I have been confronted by various students of philosophy who hold that pragmatism is a hopelessly relativistic philosophy. One sees pragmatism as characteristic of “naturalism,” which denies an objective form of truth, opting instead for practical solutions which work but may not represent truth at all. Another made the statement that, if truth is whatever works, something that he found in William James’ philosophy, then any practice or policy that works for majority (e.g. persecution of minorities) is ‘true,’ insofar as it brings about the results that the majority desires.

The American, twentieth-century pragmatist, Richard Rorty  denied that pragmatism implies that type of destructive relativism.  In a collection of papers titled Objectivity, Relativism & Truth* , specifically in “Solidarity or Objectivity,” (p. 21) and ““Science as Solidarity” (p.35),  Rorty argued that pragmatism is not a relativistic philosophy at all,  and that a pragmatic philosophy is very much in the spirit of a good scientific approach to resolving problems.   What Rorty says about his pragmatism surely applies to other versions of the pragmatists’ approach, and seems consistent with the approach of early pragmatists like William James and John Dewey.

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from “Solidarity or Objectivity

“There are two ..ways in which reflective people try, by placing their lives in a larger context, to give sense to their lives. The first is by telling the story of their contributions to a community. . . The second way is to describe themselves as standing in immediate relation to a nonhuman reality. ….stories of the first kind exemplify the desire for solidarity, and ..stories of the latter kind exemplify the desire for objectivity.

“The tradition in Western culture which centers around the notion of the search for truth, a tradition which runs from the Greek philosophers through the Enlightenment, is the clearest example of the attempt to find a sense of one’s existence by turning … to objectivity. The idea of Truth as something to be pursued for its own sake, not because it will be good for oneself, or for one’s real or imaginary community, is the central theme of this tradition. It was perhaps the growing awareness of by the Greeks of the sheer diversity of human communities which stimulated the emergence of this ideal. A fear of parochialism, of being confined within the horizons of the group into which one happens to be born, … helps produce the skeptical and ironic tone characteristic of Euripides and Socrates. Herodotus’ willingness to take the barbarians seriously enough to describe their customs in detail may be been a … prelude to Plato’s claim that the way to transcend skepticism is to envisage a common goal of humanity — a goal set by nature rather than by Greek culture. The combination of Socratic alienation and Platonic hope give rise to the idea of the intellectual as someone who is in touch with the nature of things, not by the way of the opinions of his community, but in a more immediate way.

“Plato developed the idea of such an intellectual by means of the distinction between knowledge and opinion, and between appearance and reality. Such distinctions .. (bring about) .. the idea that rational inquiry should make visible a realm to which nonintellectuals have little access, and of whose very existence they may be doubtful. In the Enlightenment, this notion became concrete in the adoption of the Newtonian physical scientist as a model of the intellectual. To most thinkers of the 18th century, it was clear that the access to Nature which physical science had provided should be followed by the establishment of social, political, and economic institutions which were in accordance with Nature. Ever since, liberal social thought has centered around social reform as made possible by objective knowledge of what human beings are like –not knowledge of what Greeks or Frenchmen or Chinese are like, but of humanity as such. We are the heirs to this objectivist tradition, which centers around the idea that we must step outside our community long enough to examine it in light of something which transcends it, namely, that which it has in common with every other actual and possible human community. . . Much of the rhetoric of contemporary intellectual life takes for granted that the goal of scientific inquiry into man is to understand “underlying structures,” or “cultural invariant factors,” or “biologically determined patterns.”

“Those who wish to ground solidarity in objectivity –call them realists — have to construe truth as correspondence to reality. So they .. construct a metaphysics which has room for a special relation between beliefs and objects which will differentiate true from false beliefs. They .. also argue that there are procedures of justification of belief which are natural and not merely local. So they ..construct an epistemology which has room for a kind of justification which is not merely social but natural, springing from human nature itself, and made possible by a link between that part of nature and the rest of nature. On their view, the … procedures which are thought of as providing rational justification by one or another culture may or may not really be rational. For to be truly rational, procedures of justification must lead to truth, to correspondence to reality, to the intrinsic nature of things.”

“By contrast, those who wish to reduce objectivity to solidarity — call them “pragmatists” –do not require either a metaphysics or an epistemology. They view truth as, in Wm. James’ phrase, what is good for us to believe. So they do not need an account of a relation between beliefs and objects called ‘correspondence,’ nor an account of human cognitive abilities which ensures that our species is capable of entering into that relation. They see the gap between truth and justification not as something to be bridged by isolating a natural and trans-cultural sort of rationality which can be used to criticize certain cultures and praise others, but simply as the gap between the actual good and the possible better. From a pragmatist point of view, to say that what is rational for us now to believe may not be true, is simply to say that somebody may come up with a better idea. It is to say that there is always room for improved belief, since new evidence, or new hypotheses, or a whole new vocabulary, may come along. For pragmatists, the desire for objectivity is not the desire to escape the limitations of one’s community, but simply the desire for as much intersubjective agreement as possible, the desire to extend the reference of “us” as far as we can. So far as pragmatists make a distinction between knowledge and opinion, it is simply the distinction between topics on which such agreement is relatively easy to get and topics on which agreement is relatively hard to get.” (22-23)

“Relativism” is the traditional epithet applied to pragmatists by realists. Three current views are commonly referred to by this name. The first is the view that every belief is as good as every other. The second is the view that “true” is an equivocal term, having as many meanings as there are procedures of justification. The third is the view that there is nothing to be said about either truth or rationality apart from descriptions of the familiar procedures of justification which a given society – ours – uses in one or another area of inquiry. The pragmatist holds the ethnocentric third view. But he does not hold the self-refuting first view, nor the eccentric second view. . . However, it is not clear why “relativist” should be thought of as an appropriate term for the ethnocentric third view, the one which the pragmatist does hold. For the pragmatist is not holding a positive theory which says that something is relative to something else. He is, instead, making the purely negative point that we should drop the traditionally distinction between knowledge and opinion, construed as the distinction between truth as correspondence to reality and truth as a commendatory term for well-justified beliefs. . . ..the pragmatist does not have a theory of truth, much less a relativistic one. As a partisan of solidarity, his account of the value of cooperative human inquiry has only an ethical base, not an epistemological or metaphysical one. Not having any epistemology, a fortiori he does not have a relativistic one.” (23-24)

From “Science as Solidarity

…We [pragmatists] ..would like to substitute the idea of “unforced agreement” for that of “objectivity.”

To say that unforced agreement is enough raises the specter of relativism. For those who say that a pragmatic view of rationality is unwholesomely relativistic ask: “Unforced agreement among whom? Us? The Nazis? Any arbitrary culture or group? The answer, of course, is “us.” This necessarily ethnocentric answer simply says that we must work by our own lights. . . What we cannot do is to rise above all human communities, actual and possible. We cannot find a skyhook which lifts us out of mere coherence – mere agreement – to something like “correspondence with reality as it is in itself.” (38)

“One reason why dropping this latter notion strikes many people as “relativistic” is that it denies the necessity that inquiry should someday converge to a single point – that Truth is “out there,” up in front of us, waiting for us to reach it. This latter image seems to us pragmatists an unfortunate attempt to carry a religious view of the world over into an increasingly secular culture. (38-39) . . . . Pragmatists would like to replace the desire for objectivity – the desire to be in touch with a reality which is more than some community with which we identify ourselves – with the desire for solidarity with that community. They think that the habits of relying on persuasion rather than force, of respect for the opinions of colleagues, of curiosity for new data and ideas, are the only virtues which scientist have. They do not think that there is an intellectual virtue called “rationality” over and above these moral virtues. (39)

On this view there is no reason to praise scientists for being more “objective” or “logical” or “methodical” or “devoted to truth” than other people. But there is plenty of reason to praise the institutions that they [i.e., scientists] have developed and within which they work, and to use these as models for the rest of culture. For these institutions give concreteness and detail to the idea of “unforced agreement.” . . . My rejection of traditional notions of rationality can be summed up by saying that the only sense in which science is exemplary is that it is a model of human solidarity. We should think of the institutions and practices which make up various scientific communities as providing suggestions about the way in which the rest of culture might organize itself. (39)

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* Richard Rorty,  Objectivity, Relativism & Truth -  Philosophical Papers, Volume 1, Cambridge U. Press, 1991

Bertrand Russell on the Budda’s and the Christian’s Ideal, and Nietzsche’s ‘Pathology’

Juan Bernal

In his book, A History of Western Philosophy,*  Bertrand Russell makes some rather surprising statements about love as definitive of two great religions, Christianity and Buddhism.   It is in the process of contrasting what he sees as advocacy of love by Christianity and the Buddha with what he takes as Friedrich Nietzsche’s ethic, that Russell contrasts the Christianity’s and Buddhists love for humanity with Nietzsche’s complete lack of sympathy for others. In the process Russell effectively misleads us both with regard to the religious ideal and Nietzsche’s philosophy.

Near the end of his section on Nietzsche (** pp. 760-773), Russell takes up what he calls the “ethical, as opposed to the political question.”

“The ethical, as opposed to the political, question is one as to sympathy. Sympathy, in the sense of being made unhappy by the suffering of others, is to some extent natural to human beings; … But the development of this feeling is very different in different people. Some find pleasure in the infliction of torture; others, like Buddha, feel that they cannot be completely happy so long as any living thing is suffering.” (p. 771)

Since he will eventually contrast Buddha’s ethics with Nietzsche’s, Russell here insinuates that the Buddha sought happiness, which he could not realize as long as others were suffering; whereas others –Does he mean to include Nietzsche here? -  find pleasure in the suffering of others.  Why mention this contrast unless it is to insinuate that Nietzsche is one who finds pleasure in the suffering of others?  Where is there any textual basis for this view of Nietzsche?   Moreover, did the Buddha seek complete happiness?

Russell continues:

“Most people divide mankind emotionally into friends and enemies, feeling sympathy for the former, but not for the latter. An ethic such as that of Christianity or Buddhism has its emotional basis in universal sympathy. Nietzsche’s [On the other hand] in a complete absence of sympathy. (He frequently preaches against sympathy, …he has no difficulty in following his own precepts.)” (p. 771)

He imagines an argument in which the Buddha speaks

“..of the lepers, outcast and miserable; the poor, toiling with aching limbs and barely kept alive by scanty nourishment; the wounded in battle dying in slow agony; the orphans, ill-treated by cruel guardians; and even the most successful haunted by the thought of failure and death. From all this load of sorrow, he [Buddha] would say, a way of salvation must be found, and salvation can only come through love.” (p.771)

Russell characterizes Nietzsche in starkly opposing terms:  He sees Nietzsche as disdaining all concern and compassion for the suffering of ordinary people, who only suffer trivially; whereas the suffering and pain endured by great men always serves a higher, artistic purpose. (see page 772)

Russell imagines that Buddha would refer to Jesus as his hero:

“I too have my heroes: my successor Jesus, because he told men to love their enemies, ….”

Furthermore, Russell’s Buddha charges that Nietzsche “loves pain” and that his love of life is a sham.

“But those who really love life would be happy as no one can be happy in the world as it is.” (p. 772)

Russell then states that he “agrees with Buddha as [he] has imagined him” and that he dislikes Nietzsche because he [Nietzsche]

“likes the contemplation of pain, because he erects conceit in to a duty, because the men he most admires are conquerors, whose glory is cleverness in cause men to die. But I think the ultimate argument against his philosophy … lies not in an appeal to facts, but in an appeal to the emotions.  Nietzsche despises universal love; I feel it the motive power to all that I desire as regards the world.” (p.772)

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In his contrasting the proponents of universal love (Buddhism and Christianity) and Nietzsche’s ‘ethics’ rejecting sympathy for others as desirable,  Russell commits three basic errors.

  •  He greatly oversimplifies the message of the Gospel’s Jesus, ignoring those aspects that do not promote love.
  • He seems to mis-characterize the mission of the Buddha, which does not appear to be one based on love for his fellow human beings.
  • He oversimplifies and distorts one rather minor aspect of Nietzsche’s philosophy.

Let’s briefly take each in turn.

Jesus:  Admittedly, there are passages in the Gospels which show Jesus as preaching love for everyone, including one’s adversaries.  Some of this actions and teachings emphasize that one must not only return loving acts with loving acts, but even respond to violence and hatred with love for the perpetrator.  Christians like to emphasize this aspect of Jesus’s teachings.  But if we think that the essential teaching of Jesus is the message of love for humanity, we oversimplify the messages of the Gospel.  For the Gospels also include plenty of passages and utterances which diverge significantly from the message of love for all humans.  Jesus often directs hostility and venom toward the Pharisees, the Scribes, and other Jews who did not accept his message of salvation.  He even spends some time talking about the dire consequences (eternal fires of Hell) awaiting those who reject his doctrine.  This is hardly a message of love.  Furthermore, the main theme of the Gospels is that of salvation; what one must believe and what one must do in order to achieve eternal salvation, that ultimate reward of heaven.  In short, much of the message of the Gospel is one of a prudent ethics: One that teaches that we must change our lives and do what is required in order to be saved. This is more a message of faith in a religious doctrine and obedience to the teachings (of the Christ) than it is a message of love for humanity.

The Buddha:   Did the Gautama Buddha, of the earliest form of Buddhism, Theraveda Buddhism, teach love for humanity?  It is not obvious that he did.  Some people bring up the alleged fact that the Buddha acted out of a great compassion for the suffering humans. But can we equate compassion with love?  Maybe we can at least in the sense of love as agape, which the dictionary characterizes as divine love or God’s love for humanity; and also as a spontaneous, altruistic love.  Supposedly, when the Buddha was exposed to the suffering that most humans experience, he felt great compassion for humanity, and hence took on the task of bringing an end to this suffering.  However, when we read accounts of the Buddha’s path to enlightenment, it is not obvious that love for humanity motivated him to seek enlightenment and eventual release from the cycle of existence (hence, the cycle of suffering).  He associated suffering with attachment to illusion and the things of the material world; and he sought enlightenment and release from material illusion and the endless cycle of suffering, death and reincarnation. To the extent that he taught others or guided others to follow his example, most probably it was because he wanted to put them on a path to freedom from error and illusion, and the consequent suffering, a path that would enable them eventually to realize enlightenment and release from existence.  Along with Russell, one might see the Buddha’s mission as one expressing love for his fellow humans.  But most interpretations of Theravada Buddhism do not so characterize the Buddha’s actions.

Nietzsche:  Even someone who is only moderately familiar with Nietzsche’s work will be skeptical about Russell’s characterization of Nietzsche’s philosophy.  This is not the place to get into much detail, but one could start by noting that Nietzsche does not develop an ethics in which he preaches or teaches a particular view of ethical good or advocates ethical principles.   He does not teach a philosophy of disdain for the ideals of a Buddha or even those of an ethical Jesus.  He does not teach that we should reject sympathy for others, as much express skepticism about those who claim ‘universal love’ as the motive for their actions.   He does not love pain and suffering, as much as try to see pain and suffering as sometimes motivating achievement and artistic excellence.  To the degree that Nietzsche deals with issues that Russell brings up, it is as a social critic, as an advocate of the re-evaluation of traditional values, and a questioner of what he sees as bad faith.  It is false that Nietzsche admires the politically powerful and holds them up as ideals to be followed.  Readers are often misled into this error (Russell’s error) because of Nietzsche’s ironic style and his occasional statement of preference for some powerful villain over a deceptive, dishonest hypocrite who pretends to practice high ideals.

Russell offers a caricature of Nietzsche’s work, which can not at all be accurately characterized as advocating a specific ethical position or political position.   In so characterizing Nietzsche, Russell makes the same mistake that the Nazi did in characterizing Nietzsche as a prophet of totalitarianism.  Both are mere distortions, as can be readily seen from a basic study of man’s work.

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*  Bertrand Russell, A History of Western Philosophy, 1945 (A Clarion Book, by Simon and Schuster,  New York, New York)  -  thirteenth paperback printing 1967

**  page references are  to the Simon and Schuster 1967 paperback printing