Bound Together
There was a slightly bizarre article about ‘elitism’ and popular culture in the New York Times a couple of days ago. At least I thought it was bizarre, but I don’t know, maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the one who’s bizarre. Or elitist. Or both.
Elitist pop-culture critics must, in the end, be mindful of what large numbers of people actually see and read and listen to. Because the underlying mythology of pop culture is still the idea that the approval of large numbers of people validates that culture and the society that produces it. If something is truly loved by millions of people, it has touched those people, has tapped into some stream of universality that indicates a life force attenuated in more elitist art…No single work of art can appeal to everyone. But when a movie like “Titanic” is seen all over the world, it suggests that its director, James Cameron, has reached down to artistic bedrock. Or when people throughout the United States, watching at home on their isolated television screens, are riveted by the final episode of “Sex and the City,” that helps bind us together.
Um…a movie like ‘Titanic’? He couldn’t have come up with a better example than that? Because I gotta tellya, the fact that that movie was seen all over the world (and multiple times by girls age 12-15) doesn’t suggest to me that James Cameron has reached down to artistic bedrock (whatever that might mean). But then I guess I don’t have to buy that idea, because I also don’t buy the idea that the approval of large numbers of people ‘validates’ anything, frankly. Whatever ‘validates’ might mean. No – I’m afraid I hold the heretical view that even large numbers of people can be wrong about things. Maybe I’m too familiar with opinion polls and surveys – you know, the ones that say 47% of Americans think human beings were created by the deity six thousand years ago, and 90% of us (or is it 95, or 99) believe in a personal god. Not to mention whatever enormous percentage it is that can’t find the US on a map, and doesn’t know what century the Civil War took place in, and don’t know who the Allies were in WWII. But that’s only part of it. There’s also the fact that tastes change, and that some kinds of taste or appreciation are cumulative and are not universally taught, and that mawkish sentimentality for instance can have very broad appeal but that doesn’t make it good, or even ‘validate’ it.
There’s a sly equation that often gets made or assumed in these discussions. The fact that the popular is not automatically bad becomes another fact (which is not a fact) that says the popular is automatically good. But guess what, those are two different ideas and the one doesn’t follow from the other. But dang the people who like to beat up on putative elitists sure rely on it heavily – as Stephen King did in his notorious recent outburst at the National Book Awards.
And as for being bound together by the final episode of – oh well. I suppose I know what he means about that. However reluctantly. I have to admit I was pleased when ‘The West Wing’ once made a big fuss about the fact that they were going to re-run the show that the public had voted their favourite – and I watched, curious to see if I had the same favourite as other people, and found that I did. Okay, I like to be like other people once in awhile, as long as it’s not too often. As long as it’s not too often and not too ridiculous – but I’ll be damned if I’m going to like ‘Titanic’!
Ad populem fallacy writ large surely. Though admittedly, the lack of any definitive means to gauge artistic merit is rather an open invitation to this sort of nonsense.
I was gonna say it must have been the Flintstones movie that really hit artistic Bedrock, but anyway. The lack of an objective gauge of artistic merit, unlike, say, seismic magnitude, is part of the problem, and I don’t see a fix for it any time soon. Ev psych or no ev psych–they will find part of it I am sure but I don’t think they can find it all.
Things that become hugely popular hit something, all right, but it is gonna be a while before we figure that one out, too. The person who does will get rich…as for any person who discovers the real bedrock of artistic merit, well, I dare not even guess.
My personal favorite is the poll that found that 20% of Americans think that they are in the top percentile of income distribution. This sort of bias is actually a general tendency in the findings of polls and perhaps should be taken to indicate the problems in their construction and methodology and the question of just what it is that they are supposed to measure and at what depth or complexity. We all like to think of ourselves as above-average, even when we don’t know what the “average” is or would mean, or even when there is no meaningful sense or relevance to the notion of average. But this is perhaps less a measure of the innate foolishness of people than of the epistemic value of polls and the purposes for which they are employed.
Equality of consideration is, of course, not the same as equal validity, but, still, the two notions are not entirely unrelated, no? I think that the worst that could be said of equality of consideration is that it is rather overburdening. But then it is a shared burden, subject only to the economy of its means.
Perhaps that old line, attributed to Haldane, about the Creator’s inordinate fondness for beetles would somehow be apposite here.
Yes, and there are also those depressing polls where US kids think they’re good at math and in fact are bad at it, and Korean and (or?) Japanese kids think they’re bad at it and are good. Oh ick. Self-esteem classes have a lot to answer for.
True, that judgments of art can’t be grounded, as my colleague likes to remind me when I get sniffy. But ‘Titanic’?? I mean to say.
It’s not a waste of time though to ask *why* a lot of people like these things. There are too many political and cultural discussions where people rail against some state of the world they don’t like (like the Titanic being popular or a majority voting for The Other Guy) all the while assuming that this is because of all these folks being mendacious or stupid or hoodwinked. I figure the burden of proof is to show any of these things perhaps even more than the oppositely situated explanation that ‘they like it because it’s good.’
We may not be able to “ground” aesthetic judgments as securely as we can ground physics or math theorums, but at the end of the day, Dickens and Austen are still better than King and Crichton. We may not be able to point to any solid, physical reasons for the superiority of Austen and Dickens, but then the world of literature isn’t the physical world, and different criteria of judgment apply.
Still, the criteria and methods of evaluation are not wholly dissimilar from the criteria and methods of other areas of inquiry – a point Susan Haack has made in several places. We can ask objective questions when we evaluate literature, or films or other kinds of art, and reach answers that have some degree of objectivity. We can examine the uses of language in a novel, for example, and the ways the narrative structure complements and expresses the thematic content of the book.
Poll a group of randomly selected people on the street about their favorite novels, and they’re likely to mention Agatha Christy, Jonathan Kellerman, or someone of that ilk. Poll a group of literary scholars or dedicated readers, and you’ll see mentions of Dickens, Eliot, Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Faulkner, Woolf, etc. And that’s no accident, because when people know something about literature, they read and understand literature on a wholly different and SUPERIOR level than those who do not. Dickens, Eliot, etc. provide rich and rewarding experiences for those who understand some of what these authors are doing, which is why they are part of our intellectual heritage in a way that Danielle Steele can never match.
So generally, the opinions of those who know something about a given type of art are instrinsically more valuable than the opinions of those who know nothing. Now THERE’s an elitist statement for you, but also (I think) a true one.
Phil
I’m not sure I agree that the experts are always right-they are often merely as self-deluded as the uneducated general; public. There is a sort of academic groupthink involved. “Expertise” is based on theoretical underpinnings that are unsound. I am thinking particularly of the field of architecture, where the “experts” are floating off in space somewhere, designing buildings that have serious psychological, functional, and economic shortcomings.
Oh, I’m not saying the experts are always right, only that some knowledge of the applicable type of art is usually a prerequisite to being right. People recognized as “official” experts in this area may or may not possess this knowledge.
That’s one reason I generally avoid the word “expert” – it carries multiple and easily confounded meanings. It can imply, for instance, a official status conferred upon someone as well as genuine possession of a high degree of knowledge in a certain subject area. But just as it’s not true that all recognized experts know their stuff, it’s also not the case that “expertise” is necessarily and always based on unsound theoretical underpinnings. One can genuinely know something about a subject which is theoretically (and/or empirically) quite well-established- which is to say, she can be an “expert” in that subject.
This brings me to something I meant to mention the last time. When some people complain, sometimes justifiably, about the relative exclusion of ethnic minorities from the Western literary canon, they are railing against just the kind of experts you mentioned. That is, people who hold on to some arbitrary standard of what art should be, and fail to seriously engage with works that differ from those they already know about. They mantain that these unfairly neglected artists have genuinely important characteristics that open-minded, duly prepared observers can discover , if they ignore the pompous and closed-minded pronouncements of the “experts” who dismiss these artists out of hand.These people are arguing FOR aesthetic standards, and claiming that the neglected artists they admire uphold those standards. They claim we need to recognize these artists BECAUSE of the quality of their art, and they fashion arguments to demonstrate this importance.
Others, however, simply argue to include neglected artists because of some vague, disembodied notion of fairness. There are this many white novelists in the canon, they say, so there should be an equal number of black novelists. Fans of popular fiction like King’s claim it’s unfair and elitist to exclude King from the canon, since so many people enjoy reading him. In these cases, note that the quality of the work is no longer even an issue under consideration.
So the irony really seems to be that while those who claim King should be lauded because he is popular use the charge of unfairness at critics who don’t like King, they are the ones who are being most unfair. They are demanding that critics suspend the criteria of judgment that make their discipline possible, and become mere ventroloquist dummies sitting on the public’s knee. They are, in effect, denying the legitimacy of any possible objection to King’s status as an important writer. Now, any of these people are welcome to make an actual case for the literary merits of King instead of just whining about the evils of elitism like they usually do. In that case, there can be an actual conversation about whatever it is King might be accomplishing , and who knows, maybe everyone involved will learn something?
Phil
Phil
I just don’t buy your argument at all. The trouble is there are very good sociological reasons which would explain the phenomenon of critics preferring Austen to King.
I can explain why King is better than Austen – because he writes longer books.
You can object that length of book is no measure of aesthetic quality, and you can point to all the things which you think should be criteria for establishing such a thing, but if I resolutely insist that the things you deem to be an indication of quality, etc., are not in fact, how can you show me that I’m wrong without some version of precisely the argument ad populem that is being criticised here.
Aeshetics is just a matter of taste. Sure I prefer Dream Theater to Take That, but if you ask me to choose between ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusik’ and ‘Scenes from a memory’ – I’m going to go with ‘Scenes’.
There is a serious point here. If you insist to somebody who is obssessed with dance music that it is no rerequisite of good music that it should make people dance, they literally won’t be able to understand how you could think such a thing. I’m very reluctant to privilege the incomprehension of people like Roger Scruton about the aesthetic value of (some) pop music over the incomprehension of a dance music aficionado.
Phil Mole:
The appeal to expertise in artistic matters is bound to fail. Not only are genuinely great artistic works combinations of high and low, but the appeal to expertise side-steps the issue of their peculiar “force”. If one has never had such an “experience”, then one would never know of it. But “experts” can only claim, ridiculously, to be measuring it.
I agree with Jerry S. Almost inevitably, if you are a recognized “expert” in an artistic field, it is because you have bought into the thinking of said field’s “compound” (to borrow from From Bauhaus to Our House)-and have been accepted by said compund. Look at the inane burblings of the New York Times Architectural Critic-Muschamp-he’s full of fancy words and slippery non-concepts. I myself like King. I really doubt that the ramblings of some New York intellectual about “relationships” (a typical high canon novel) is really any more profound than some of King’s best work.
I agree with Brian.
I’ve read most of the stuff which Virgina Woolf has written. And sure she has a technical skill which King lacks, but who the hell cares when you just wish her characters dead because they are so boring?
Okay, so Percival has gone missing, but please don’t go wittering on about it at great length. I’m not interested.
Was it Percival who went missing? It’s been a while since I could summon up the energy to read Woolf.
Jerry S and I have been having this argument for years. I sort of have to concede that he’s right up to a point – but I think only up to a point. I still think aesthetic criteria can be argued for, even if they can’t be grounded as firmly as mathematics.
“Sure I prefer Dream Theater to Take That, but if you ask me to choose between ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusik’ and ‘Scenes from a memory’ – I’m going to go with ‘Scenes’.”
But that’s just changing the subject. Never mind choosing between ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusik’ and ‘Scenes from a memory’ – what about choosing between Dream Theater and Take That? You have reasons, don’t you? (I know, you’ll say yes but other people can just reject your criteria. But you do have reasons, all the same.)
I’m not arguing here that all ‘high’ culture (whatever that means anyway, which is not much) is better than all popular culture. I’m arguing that popular does not automatically equate with good any more than it automatically equates with bad.
Oh crap, cross-post again. I hadn’t seen that last when I posted. Always the way.
Right never mind Woolf v King. Make it Austen v King, or Emily Bronte v King, or Shakespeare v King – make it anyone you like who is considered non-popular v King. (Though actually Shakespear was popular culture, and E. Bronte certainly wasn’t considered ‘high’ culture when she first published, or for a good while thereafter.) Make it a fair fight.
“Make it a fair fight.”
But making it someone I like can’t make it a fair fight from your perspective, surely, because it suggests that *my* peculiar tastes are some part of the story about what makes art great or not, and that is highly counter-intuitive.
It is, of course, possible to specify criteria by which one can make aesthetic judgements. But it is absolutely impossible to ground these criteria.
I had this argument with Aaron Ridley when putting together the ‘New British Philosophy’ book.
He wanted to say that harmonic and melodic complexity were part of what made music great. But what is to stop me arguing that harmonic and melodic complexity is a barrier to making a piece of music great, because music should be simple, it should speak directly to people’s emotions, and so on.
Of course, I don’t believe such a thing, but I also believe it isn’t possible to show that it isn’t right (and it isn’t possible to show that the opposite isn’t right). Any attempt to do so is doomed to failure. Precisely because these things are just value-judgements.
Yeah. I know. That’s what I mean about agreeing up to a point. I agree (or concede, since my agreement is reluctant) that it isn’t possible to show that the judgments are right. But I suppose I think there is some middle ground (fog-shrouded and dotted with patches of wool, no doubt) where one can make a case for value judgements even though one can’t definitively show that they are right. And that that’s worth doing. That it’s worth continuing to say ‘Yes, sure, we all like a good story, but there are other things to like too, and if you put in some time and effort and learn to like them, you may well find that you will learn to like them.’
That’s the trouble I always have with the ‘popular is best and that’s the end of it’ line – that it encourages people to miss out. That it discourages the effort to discover less familiar, less instantly grabby kinds of art, which are rewarding. There are so many things I nearly missed out on because I didn’t like them at first, and am glad I did not miss out on. There are of course masses more I haven’t discovered yet and no doubt won’t, because life isn’t infinite. But I do think it’s worth saying what one thinks is better than what, and why, for that sort of reason. Even though it’s impossible to ground the criteria.
Interesting discussion here. Some good points are being made all around. Here’s an interesting comment by JerryS:
“There is a serious point here. If you insist to somebody who is obssessed with dance music that it is no rerequisite of good music that it should make people dance, they literally won’t be able to understand how you could think such a thing. I’m very reluctant to privilege the incomprehension of people like Roger Scruton about the aesthetic value of (some) pop music over the incomprehension of a dance music aficionado.”
I’d share you’re reluctance on that last point, but (I suspect) for somewhat different reasons. First, incomprehension is incomprehension, whether it’s Scruton’s, a dance music afficionado’s, or anyone else’s. And I agree that Scruton does have blind spots when it comes to popular culture, as did the late Allan Bloom and a good number of other arts critics to boot. But so what?
It seems to me that pointing out the incomprehension of certain critics doesn’t get us very far. First, we can’t conclude from the mere fact that different people emphasize different criteria that no valid criteria exist. It may be that some or even all of these criteria carry a certain amount of validity, and good arts criticism involves demonstrating the criteria that are or are not met. That is, it expands our understanding of the work of art and its meanings. Critics need not fall out into the opposing camps of high culture versus low culture, and the best ones ususually don’t. Good critics are the ones who look insightfully at all works of art and describe what they seem to be doing successfully or unsuccessfully.
Second, it seems that the use of the very term “incomprehension” implies that the critic is not understanding something important about the work of art in question. It also implies that if he understood this “something” about the art, he would have a different appreciation of it. A stodgy Western music critic might not understand the importance of a type of non-Western music for dancing in that culture, and may judge the work to be of poor quality as a result. But how does this help show that all art is really just subjective? It seems more plausible to take this lesson as suggesting that a) there are many possible criteria a work of art can satisfy; b) we can talk about the “goodness” of a work of art by judging how well it meets one or more of these criteria; and c) to make this judgement accurately, we need as much knowledge as possible about the work of art and the culture that produced it. Thus, your point can be used to argue for an inclusive, intellectually adventurous form of arts criticism rather than an acknowledgment of aesthetic relativism.
Another point: Notice that in your example of the dance music, you yourself immediately tied the question of the art’s evaluation to a specific criterion (i.e., the music is good for dancing). That is, you offered a REASON why the art could be considered good. I think that when we are in the realm of reasons and criteria, we are not (completely) in the real of subjectivism. Because ultimately, we have to wonder what any of us would think about art that was truly “good for nothing,” – that failed every imaginable criteria of what art could be. What would you think of a mystery novel that was poorly written, not mysterious or suspenseful at all, and was full of unfunny jokes and simplistic characters?
By the way, JerryS, I have another question for you. I’ve always wondered about the analogies, if any, between ethical and aesthetic relativism. What do you think? How would you answer someone who argued that their own culture had a radically different type of justice, based on their own needs as culture, and this concept of justice happened to condone discrimination on the basis of gender or religion or ethnicity? Would they be making a radically different argument than your aesthetic argument? Or not?
Phil
(By the way, I didn’t mean anyone you like, I meant anyone you like. I noticed that ambiguity after I posted it, but shrugged and left it. I didn’t mean ‘anyone who is to your taste,’ I meant ‘anyone you like to choose’ – except Woolf. What I really meant, I suppose, is pick someone less difficult, more popular, than Woolf. That’s what I meant by fair.)
I would take the hallmark of great works of art,- (and I’m thinking of literary works, because of my own limited experience and proclivities),- is their persistent capacity to “contain” otherness, that is, in addition to their polyvocal and polysemous compostion, which renders them interpretively inexhaustible, and which is a lure to their continuing consideration, they induce an encounter with otherness, beyond the confines of the self and its “normal” terms of perception and interpretation. As well, in entering into the alternative world of the work of art, which is nonetheless somehow linked to this world, one undergoes a transfiguration of its sense of the possible and a conversion “experience” in the light of the challenges of its persuasiveness, such that, when one returns to this world, the “pay-off”, the value-added, is that one gains a deeper appreciation, understanding and sense of perspective of the complexion of this world and its bewildering diversity of human situations. By contrast, works of poor quality or that aim at mere entertainment operate by re-enforcing the conventional modes of perception and understanding of the ideologically consensual reality of this world, such that, in offering escapism, they merely blindly reiterate the ways of this world, offering nothing in the end by way of “real” escape. Of course, if one has no sense of the alteration of identity in such experience, one would never know of it. But then, one might be similarly blind to the encounters with otherness that weave their way throughout the reality of this world.
These sorts of arguments about taste are at least as old as Kant, who, roughly, argued that judgments of taste are rationally supportable and their terms and criteria can be reasonably discussed and argued over, but that their conclusions could not be definitively proven or demonstrated. But one could take issue with the emphasis and priority accorded by such a purely aesthetic approach on the subjective perception of judgments of taste, rather than on the “objective” existence of works. Alternatively, one could argue that judgments of taste correlate with distinctions of social status, -(as was, in fact, the case with the earlier, Baroque tradition, which did not differentiate between aesthetic, ethical, and social judgments),- and I myself think such a line of approach is well worth undertaking. But such a functional reduction does not necessarily impugn or prejudice questions of validity.
Consideration of works of art requires a disciplined patience and an attentive openness, which is to say, a fair tolerance for boredom. This is what was traditionally termed “disinterestedness”, which I would reconfigure as encountering otherness. But it is not really a matter of likes and dislikes, of arbitrary preferences. Openness to the work is precisely a suspension of these. Of course, a primary constitutive rule of the game is that one takes one’s art and entertainment as one pleases- (and as opportunity affords)-, that one must be “free” to do so. But the fact of the matter is that their respective “satisfactions” are fundamentally different and not necessarily continuous.
John
So what you’re basically saying is that great art makes you think, popular art doesn’t?
Well I never.
Why do you use all that jargon? seriously? Are you a graduate student or something? You’re not Chun the Unbearable, are you?
I agree with some of what John said above, especially the statement:
“These sorts of arguments about taste are at least as old as Kant, who, roughly, argued that judgments of taste are rationally supportable and their terms and criteria can be reasonably discussed and argued over, but that their conclusions could not be definitively proven or demonstrated. “
That seems pretty accurate to me. It allows us to hold that there can be reasons for preferring one work of art to another, even if the reasons are not carved in stone. I’d add that if they were carved in stone, art would be a lot less interesting.
This statement, and the statements about the ability of good art to support a rich plurality of interpretations, lead me to another related issue. That is the issue of triteness, and how it may relate to evaluation of art.
I don’t think it would be controversial to say that triteness is not a positive thing. Trite sayings and trite thoughts often substitute for and prevent more rewarding and accurate dialogue from occurring, and limit our abilities to appreciate novelty. It also seems fairly obvious that level of knowledge and clarity of thought effect our ability to recognize triteness for the sham it is. For millions of people, Deepak Chopra’s books are filled with pearls of wisdom, while people who have read some philosophy tend to be far more critical of his easy answers.
So the question is, can works of art be trite? I’d say so – there seem to be novels that are simplistic in their worldview and morality, musical works that retread shopworn conventions, and films that are utterly devoid of insight or innovation. In fact, it seems arbitrary to say that the concept of tritness is not applicable to art.
Now, someone can reject the criteria that works of art should be complex, insightful, or what not, but how far can that approach really take her? Sooner or later, she bumps against the brick wall of triteness. If tritness is generally a bad thing, and works of art can be trite, then it seems dubious to deny that trite art is really bad art. That is, it seems dubious to deny that triteness has legitimacy as a criterion for art evaluation, which then strongly implies that art appreciation is not arbitrary and relative after all.
So again, I’m not convinced that the goodness of art is all in the eye or ear of the beholder (a trite expression, after all.) It seems reasonable to be able to conclude that some works of art really are better than others, however foggy and complex the process of evaluation may be.
Phil
Phil
Okay, so I think art should provide comfort, relaxation, it should not be challenging, so I think trite art is greater art than original art which “supports a plurality of interpretations”.
So I’m also not convinced that the goodness of art is in the eye or ear of the beholder. Some works of art really are better than others. The trite ones.
Phil
“Okay, so I think art should provide comfort, relaxation, it should not be challenging, so I think trite art is greater art than original art which “supports a plurality of interpretations”.
So I’m also not convinced that the goodness of art is in the eye or ear of the beholder. Some works of art really are better than others. The trite ones.”
(Laughs)
Well played, Jerry S. A very nice retort, indeed.
And yet, problems remain. What if someone says that their ethical philosophy, or political ideology, or religious belief is all about what provided them with comfort and relaxation? Is acceptance of triteness in these areas to be frowned upon, and accepted in art? That’s what I’m not convinced about, because I tend to think triteness is a generally negative thing. Convince me otherwise.
Phil
Phil
“Convince me otherwise.”
But I don’t think that one has to be able to found one’s aesthetic, moral, ethical and political beliefs on absolutely solid, rational foundations before one can act on their basis.
I’m, in the words of one of my collegues, an “extremely unsophisticated” emotivist about ethics. But I’m still going to stop somebody hurting somebody else if I can, because I think that kind of thing is wrong.
In other words, I’m quite content that my aesthetic sensibilities are incapable of solid foundation. It doesn’t prevent me from thinking that Dream Theater are better than Take That.
Jerry S:
I’m a high school graduate. And what jargon? Is “otherness” a piece of jargon rather than a fact of life? Yes, it’s true that I believe the modal-relational dimension of meaning co-constitutes its formation with the semantic-intentional dimension and that art operates predominantly in the modal-relational dimension, which the cognitive function of language use tends to suppress. (John Austin called the modal-relational “illocutionary force”.)
I wouldn’t make any strong distinction between popular art and supposed “higher culture”. The fact of the matter is that they tend to strongly interact and that “higher” works are often constructed from popular materials. The distinction is between art of whatever quality and provenance and entertainment and the industrial mass production of cultural commodities. So your attribution about stimuli to thinking is well off the mark.
You’re simply trying to operate a skeptical argument. But the problem with such arguments is that sooner or later- and more likely sooner- they “jump the rails” and, by rendering attributions and identifications impossible, they render any matter undiscussable; indeed, they simply dissolve the existence of the matter. But for more than pragmatic reasons, such lines of argument are self-undermining.
Not this colleague, I hasten to say. A different colleague. Me, I insult him in other ways.
“In other words, I’m quite content that my aesthetic sensibilities are incapable of solid foundation. It doesn’t prevent me from thinking that Dream Theater are better than Take That.”
Well that’s exactly what I’ve been saying. So [sounding confused] what is it you’re disagreeing with then?
“what jargon?”
What jargon!?!
Now that is hilarious.
I just wanted to say that in case anyone missed it, as I did the first time through.
John, you are a caution. Austin would be proud.
OB:
“Polysemous”- containing multiple layers of meaning. This is what literary works afford, such that to attempt to entirely disambiguate them would be rather missing the point.
“Polyvocal”- I was borrowing Bakhtin’s “polyphonic”. This is not at all a piece of post-modernism, as such-like would claim that texts can not contain “voices”.
There’s nothing there in my posts that can not be reasonably construed, assuming a fairly normal distribution of passive vocabulary. And there are no arcane theoretical presuppositions being secreted away to demand a privileged pattern of inference or implication, any more than in anyone else’s expression of their views. To the charge of “jargon”, the counter-charge of obtuseness and dogmatism could be preferred.
Why would I be a “caution” and to what? And why would John Austin be “proud”? Wasn’t he a rather plain-speaking sort of man, an exponent of the “common sense” tradition in British philosophy?
The fact of the matter is that literary works, more or less, exercize a “compelling” force, inspite of the fact that they are plainly agreed to be fictive, which is what arouses interest in them. It would seem that this is what would call for some explanation, rather than diffusing and denying the question, in the light of what, “clearly”, everyone already knows, which only amounts to a retreat from addressing the matter at hand. If my descriptions are not accurate or adequate, say so, by offering a counter-proposal.
I, of course, don’t mind offering an occasion for hilarity, intended or not. This is the internet, after all. Everyone should be allowed to take from it what they need or want.
“So [sounding confused] what is it you’re disagreeing with then?”
We’re disagreeing, I think, because when I say that I think something is better than something else, I’m aware that this simply cashes out to:
“I like x better than y, you ought to as well, but unfortunately, when push comes to shove, I can’t give any good reasons for this assertion”.
I’m not sure you think it cashes out like this. You think that you can give good reasons, don’t you?
Alternatively you could think that you have reasons for your preferences, accept that others will not necessarily find your reasons compelling, but regard them as inferior people for it.
“There’s nothing there in my posts that can not be reasonably construed, assuming a fairly normal distribution of passive vocabulary.”
Vocabulary is not the only issue. There are the hugely long sentances, dangling clauses and other contortions of language. I ran some of your posts through the Flesh-Kincaid tests available in Word. As I suspected, your style of writing was almost off the scale. If you are trying to communicate you should not be trying to make it harder than it needs to be. Some concepts are difficult to express simply granted. However a lot of very simple concepts indeed can be badly expressed with a lot of long words, and cumbersome sentances. Making a simple concept difficult to understand, does not impute that concept with any extra depth. Jerry S managed to express in a couple of sentances what you had taken several paragraphs to express.
“I’m not sure you think it cashes out like this. You think that you can give good reasons, don’t you?”
No, not really. Or at least, it depends how you define “good”. Not in the sense of definitive or compelling assent, let alone absolute or grounded or true for everyone everywhere at all times. “Good” in other, milder senses, yes, maybe. The kind of “good” that cashes out to something like: “this is worth reading/seeing/listening to and you could be missing out on an experience you would value if you ignore it.” But you think so too, don’t you? After all, you persuaded your father to watch and then admire Dream Theater. If you really thought it was purely a matter of “I like mustard and you don’t” or “I’m cold in here and you’re not” you wouldn’t have bothered, would you?
“If you really thought it was purely a matter of “I like mustard and you don’t” or “I’m cold in here and you’re not” you wouldn’t have bothered, would you?”
It’s complicated. People can be persuaded by what appear to be reasons even when they oughtn’t be. And people could mistakenly think that they are taking their positions for good reasons when in fact they just occupy positions.
It’s the same argument that I’ve mentioned with morals before. I might sign up to the idea that morals can have a rational justification (or one can offer rational justifications for moral positions). I might even participate in rational discussions about moral positions. But the bottom line is that I’m simply going to go on thinking that the Nazis were immoral, if it turns out that rationally speaking, in terms of everything that I’ve signed up for vis-a-vis the rational grounding for morals, they were in fact right. Consequently, my suspicion is that all the rational stuff is just hand waving.
My suspicion is the same with aesthetic judgements.
I know – that it’s the same argument as the one about morals. As Phil pointed out above, too.
I just still disagree that the reasons amount to mere hand waving. That’s my foggy woolly middle ground. Despite your bottom line, I just go on thinking that reasons can be worth something despite not being absolute or final. Or to put it another way – maybe it is just hand waving, but then hand waving is an art form too – a kind of ballet, perhaps. So that just closes the circle.
(That’s a bit of obfuscation. Obfuscation is also an art form, and one I have excellent reasons for admiring.)
“they render any matter undiscussable; indeed, they simply dissolve the existence of the matter.”
John
You may be good with the fancy words, but this is just rubbish. It’s one thing to be sceptical about ethics and aesthetics, it’s quite another thing to be sceptical about the existence of matter.
And the problem with your jargon is that it creates the impression that you’re using it to disguise a paucity of thought. You’re not saying anything sophisticated enough that it requires words of more than a couple of syllables.
In fact, I doubt whether anything has ever been said in the domain of the humanities which has required words of more than a couple of syllables. That’s not to say that nothing sophisticated is ever said in the humanities, but it is to claim that it is possible to build sophisticated arguments in clear language. You’re not doing that, and some people might think it is tedious.
Are you studying for a Masters degree or a PhD? That’s what I’m interested in.
“People can be persuaded by what appear to be reasons even when they oughtn’t be”
Who’s to say they “oughtn’t be?” That kind of judgment seems to assume we have reasons for thinking “they oughtn’t be.” Persuasive ones, at that.
I understand the emotivist position on ethics/aesthetics, and I agree with it up to a point. When we see some blackheart about to toss an innocent child over a bridge, we don’t stop first and perform a complex moral analysis of the reasons for saving the child. We jump in and save him (hopefully), because we just feel that’s the right thing to do. And in aesthetics, we sometimes, if not often, feel a sense of overwhelming awe when we experience certain works of art without really understanding why.
But I still don’t think this precludes us from talking about, and believing in, reasons in each example. Surely, there are plenty of good reasons for saving a fellow human being’s life. And surely we could talk about plenty of reasons why certain works of art trigger certain responses in us.
Part of the problem is that we may need to distinguish between types of reasons. In the ethical example, there is the motivational reason, often operating at the emotional level, and then there are the evaluative reasons examining the justfication for the actions under consideration. It is important to keep these classes of reasons distinct, I think. A racist may have an emotional, gut-level disgust toward black people, but the rest of us are entitled to evaluate the morality of his actions. And since emotions themselves often carry evaluative content, as Nussbaum has pointed out, we have a further reason for taking the analysis beyond the level of cognitive or emotional motivating states.
In art, too, there is the emotional resonance to works of art, but then there is the analysis of the form, thematic content, etc. of the art that makes that resonance possible. And I think that some understanding of these things tends to increase and diversify our appreciation for art. It can lead us to make rewarding new discoveries, so we will have more of the positive emotional experiences we crave. And it seems to me that even at the cognitive emotivist level, this kinds of arts criticism is a good thing. It can open us to art experiences we otherwise would not have had, whether it’s Dream Theatre or Mozart.
Phil
Phil
“That kind of judgment seems to assume we have reasons for thinking “they oughtn’t be.”
But not reasons to do with the art in question. If you think that aesthetic judgements are de facto non-rational, then if I persuade somebody that there are good reasons for preferring Dream Theater to Mozart, they shouldn’t listen, because reasons are no part of the story of aesthetic judgement.
I understand the distinction between motivational reasons and evaluative reasons, but I don’t think it works to avoid the problem.
My claim is that even if people give me what appear to be rationally sound reasons to demonstrate that Nazism was not immoral – even reasons which I agree seem to be rationally sound – it’s not going to alter my evaluative, moral judgement that it was immoral.
This suggests that reasons are detached from the judgement. Sure I may change my judgements in the course of a discussion about reasons, but that doesn’t seem to be any different from my changing my judgement as a result of being injected with a drug, or threatened, etc.
Hang on – now I’m confused. Are reasons ‘non-rational’ because they can’t be grounded? Is that the definition of a non-rational reason? I seem to have conceded too much. I agree that aesthetic judgements can’t be grounded, but I don’t agree that they have no rational element at all. Do I have to? Does the one entail the other?
One can say Austen writes better than King, then one’s opponent says Yes but that doesn’t matter because her concerns are so trivial or insular or girly or whatever it is. Very well. But that doesn’t make it non-rational to say that Austen does write better. Non-persuasive is not the same as non-rational – is it?
Jerry S:
“My claim is that even if people give me what appear to be rationally sound reasons to demonstrate that Nazism was not immoral – even reasons which I agree seem to be rationally sound – it’s not going to alter my evaluative, moral judgement that it was immoral.”
I understand what you’re saying, but that seems to be a rather big “even if.” It would seem to require Nazism to be something other than what it really was. I can’t help thinking that if we could provide logical reasons demonstrating that the Nazis were not immoral, it could only be through demonstration that very much of our previous information about Nazis was incorrect. For example, that they didn’t really hate Jews and systematically destroy them, and were just trying to promote the health of all of the German people on an equitable basis.
Is it any coincidence that Holocaust revisionists have to try to change the way we understand the FACTS about the Nazis in order to change the way we FEEL about the Nazis? (Quick clarification: I’m in NO way trying to paint you as a Holocaust revisionist, of course – I’m just trying to show the relevance of rationally supported evidence to our moral feelings).
So there is not a perfect correspondence between reasons and judgment, but not a complete detachment either. A relationship seems to exist, although it’s more complex than we may first think.
Phil
Yeah, Phil, I’ve argued this same point. Trouble is, Jerry S calls it a thought-experiment. Thought-experiments are allowed to say things are any way the experimenter says they are. Now I never understand how, in that case, they can really demonstrate anything. I can see how they can be useful for thinking about counter-factuals and hypotheticals, but I don’t see how they can make your case for you. I’ve never gotten JS to concede that point though.
Phil
I had this argument with my colleague Julian Baggini a number of years ago. As a bit of fun, he wrote up the argument (my side of it). He dealt with the objection which you’re making (arguing my side). I’ll see if I can dig it up (because I don’t really have time for this now).
There are a few things which this comes down to.
First, given that moral philosophers just don’t agree about meta-ethics, don’t agree about what is moral in particular situations, and given also the fact that some moral philosophers claim that there has been very little progress, if any, in moral philosophy, to argue that Nazism cannot be moral is just an argument from personal conviction (it’s a form of subjectivism which they precisely want to avoid).
Second, there are moral viewpoints (nihilism, for example) which would not see Nazism as being wrong.
Third, there are people – and I can point you to their web sites – who think that Nazism was not wrong. Indeed, presumably many of the Nazis did not think what they were doing was wrong.
So it doesn’t work simply to assert that moral reasoning could not lead to the conclusion that Nazism ws okay. You’d have to argue for it. And that leads us back to where we started.
And the second general point is that I’m not denying that there is a psychological connection between reasons and moral stances. There are psychological connetions all over the place. Otherwise, rhetoric wouldn’t work.
Jerry S
I bet I can dig up the thing Julian wrote, if you can’t, or don’t have the time. I think I still have it in that old Yahoo account.
Well, feel free to post it, if you like. It’d save me making the argument (and, as you know, I’m quite busy). I’m sure Julian wouldn’t mind (since he thinks I’m wrong!). Thanks!
Sure.
Here it is – Stangroom’s prongs:
Why ethics cannot be rationally grounded
Ethics cannot be rationally grounded because any rational argument in ethics
has a conclusion which is non-rationally defeasible.
Argument: Stangroom’s prongs
Imagine that someone constructs an argument, which seems to you sound and
valid, which shows that the Nazi holocaust was rationally justified. We
should assume that the argument is as strong as possible. For instance, the
conclusion could follow from nothing more than generally accepted factual
premises, for example: we will not presume that the is/ought gap makes this
impossible.
What should one do when confronted with such an argument?
One can either bite the bullet and the accept the conclusion; or else one
can reject the conclusion on non-rational grounds (since these are the only
grounds on which one could reject it, the rational grounds being in support
of it). I (Julian) would not bite the bullet and assume most others would
not either. Therefore, we find that the conclusion is rejected on
non-rational grounds, which means the ultimate grounds of ethics cannot be
rationality itself.
Further, we would only bite the bullet if we accept that rationality does
ground ethics. But, at this base level, the decision to say that it does is
no more rationally grounded than the decision that it does not. Even if one
produces a rational argument to show that ethics is rationally grounded, one
still needs to make a choice between accepting that argument or viewing the
holocaust-justifying argument as a reductio of it. One always has the option
of ‘opt-out’ of rationally grounded ethics if its conclusions are repugnant.
This shows the ultimate grounds of ethics cannot be rational.
First objection: The paradoxes third way
It might be objected that the appropriate response is to reject the
conclusion on the grounds that the reasoning must be wrong to lead to such a
conclusion (i.e., that the holocaust is acceptable), even though we cannot
see why it is wrong. It is like a paradox: we know Achilles can overtake the
tortoise so the argument that he can’t must be flawed in some way we haven’t
spotted.
c. If we believe that ethics is rationally grounded, then why
should we reject the conclusion of an ethical argument which is as strong a
rational argument as we can put forward?
Second objection: The thought experiment is impossible
This leads to the second objection: the thought experiment is impossible
because ethics is rationally grounded, the holocaust immoral and therefore
there can be no strong rational argument which says it isn’t.
The problem here is that this is no more than an article faith. Worse, since
there are no compelling rational grounds for saying that a sound rational
argument justifying the holocaust could not be constructed, it seems that
our insistence that this scenario could not unfold is rooted not in
rationality but a non-rationally grounded ethical commitment. This again
suggests the ultimate ground of ethics is non-rational.
What now?
The question remains open whether the non-rational grounding for ethics is
some kind of intuition of moral reality or emotivist. Arguments that ethics
is a social construct etc can be defeated in the same way: it will always be a social construct or something else. It always remains open to reject what
socially-constructed ethics concludes. For instance.
Just to clarify the above post. This was the result of a discussion I had with my colleague on a train journey. It was written up just as a bit of fun. So it shouldn’t be treated as anything other than that. It hasn’t been proof read, discussed, or anything else like that. The writing-up of it was a half-jokey thing. But since I’m short of time, it might be useful to clarify the argument I’ve been making.
John H,
Jerry S isn’t the first to point out that your style is more elaborate than it needs to be. I recall telling you the same thing in that very protracted discussion at Twisty Sticks.
“I’m aware of my jangled sentence structure. You see, while I’m typing, I’m also trying to puzzle out what I have to say and how to say it, though not always appositely.”
There’s your problem right there. Slow down, think first and then type, or if you can’t do that, then revise. Cut heavily. I don’t even completely read your posts. Even if they were brilliant, they would still be far, far too long. Give everyone a break and edit yourself. Time, attention and energy are finite; nobody wants to spend fifteen minutes reading one person’s comments!
OB:
I’m actually usually a quite slow typist. (Witness the cross-post above). It’s takes me some time to gather and order my thoughts. To be sure, sometimes I’m too compressed, others a bit vague or rambling. Call it educational deficiency or what you will. But I actually type with an aim at sufficiently making what I think would be my case, lest I be accused of “handwaving”.. Call it intellectual vanity or conscience, as you please. It’s your blog, you are not obliged to read, and you may delete at will.
The “Nazi” cross-post, though, does confirm something of my diagnosis in the last post you probably did not read. A hyperbolic Humean skepticism combined with an antinomian manipulation of logic to yield a forced argument e contrario that fails to recognize and appreciate the actual nature and resources of the case. It’s not really a “serious” or interesting argument, in my view. But I will spare any further arguing of the case.
“A hyperbolic Humean skepticism combined with an antinomian manipulation of logic to yield a forced argument e contrario that fails to recognize and appreciate the actual nature and resources of the case.”
And all that from a conversation on a train. I impress even myself sometimes…
“So I’ve flunked the MS Word test for normative intelligibility. I’m crestfallen and shamefaced.”
No, you flunk by most standards. I just happened to use the Word implementation of standard scales to attach a number to your level of unintelligability. If I used Word to do a word count, would you dispute the number of words it came up with just because it is a Micrsoft product?
“But next time I respond to one of your posts, I’ll make sure to use MS Power Point!”.
I think you mean Word. Powerpoint is for producing flashy presentations, often devoid of any content. You do not need to be using such an application.
Running a Kincaid analysis on your posts before you send them is probably overkill. Just try and write as if you wanted to share your thoughts as opposed to writing to showcase your vocabulary. If you can string concepts together as well as you can string words together, your thoughts will certainly be worth hearing.
“But, if you think you’ve gotten hold of physical reality and that this thereby renders you proof against skepticism, then I would ask what it is that you think you’ve gotten hold of and how exactly did you get hold of it.)”
But of course, the problem is that aesthetics and morals are not part of “physical reality.” That’s what makes this whole debate so difficult. I don’t think anyone in this discussion is an epistemological skeptic, but some are skeptical of objective criteria for evaluating ethics and aesthetics. If the criteria for evaluation in these areas were identical to those for evaluating the physical world, we wouldn’t need to debate anything.
Phil
JerryS:
Thank you for responding to what you did not read. (Yes, let’s not encourage the bloody bastard.) You did not claim that their were no foundations to anything. I had checked back beforehand. I did. I would guess you probably think that there are unique and privileged objective foundations for cognition claims, in contrast to everything else, which conditions the “economy” of your way of thinking. But I think that, though cognitive claims are certainly indispensable to the mix, that is not the way that they actually operate.
I don’t buy your recourse to psychology. But that is probably just part and parcel of the set of ideas and presuppositions you use. I think that, in truth, very little is actually psychological. But “psychology” tends to serve as a grab-bag category for those who would like to cheat on their rational accounting. It is especially tempting for those who would wish to maintain the “purity” of logic and think that one only “really” has got something, if one can specify necessary and sufficient conditions, while the rest must be nonsense, when, not only are such conditions not always obtainable, but even if one gets them, they often prove a distortion of the matter and not the sort of criteria one would need or want. (This is especially true in ethics, which does not concern necessity, but freedom and its disposal.) Yes, it would be a great pity if logic could not overtake and underwrite all the burdens of interpretation!
Yes, you do impress yourself, don’t you?
But still, it was an impressively bad argument. (Hint: Aristotle dealt with such matters under the topos of “bestiality”.) And you are the one who brought the Nazis into the discussion. Yeah, Goodwin’s “law”. As if ethics must meet such super-hard standards, so as to defeat the Nazis, since we all know that science attains such standards! Perhaps you are just caught up in a myth of “hardness”. At any rate, since you are the one who attended graduate school, I don’t think exactly proper your apparent wish to hold me to account for your own afflictions. Still, your sollipsism is very brave!
“Yes, but you haven’t argued for that position.”- You aren’t asking for more argument that you won’t read, are you? Perhaps you just like to “win”. But maybe in your haste you just missed the “move” I did make, to the effect of: “What need for prior foundations? The matter and our reason are always already engaged.” It’s an old move.
Phil Mole:
The only point to that parenthetical remark was that someone who would claim, “But I’m not skeptical of the existence of the material world!”, is giving himself away, committing a denegation. Since it is not really possible to doubt the existence of physical reality, as opposed to this or that phenomenon, one who would disclaim such doubt would seem to be entertaining such thoughts, in striving to be ever so skeptical. I don’t think such a stance is of any value or effectiveness. It strikes me as an affectation.
I don’t think the issue is the “existence” of “objective” criteria in these matters. Rather it is a question of shared criteria, which needn’t be necessarily universal. The stakes in the matter concern our need for criteria and their availability to us that discern and thereby render discussable and, to some degree, rationally justifiable matters of value, significance and importance to us in conducting our business within a shared form of life, without which, the cost would be such matters becoming dissociated, indiscernible and thus effectively nonexistent, i.e. the loss of such values and the means to articulate our need. But I would be that last to claim that such criteria are conflict-free and offer any assured guarantees.
With regards to some of the moves that Jerry S attempted above, consider the following conversation. A: X is a good person. B: He’s too short. At some point, it becomes a question of whether the “same” matter is being discussed at all. I will leave it to you to judge whether Jerry’s move are of that sort.
I don’t know that anyone here would call themselves an epistemological skeptic. I myself, however, am skeptical of epistemology. That is, I don’t think that any valid discipline called epistemology exists.
Chris M:
You just want to complain. That’s fine by me and you are free to do so, if it gives you satisfaction. But the issue is not really my style, but my lack of style. I yam what I yam. I’m just trying to make my points as best I can. Perhaps I should just yield the field of honor to those who are more capable of computer-assisted stylishness. So, since brevity is the soul of wit…
Not withstanding the matter of polemics here, I really can’t find a single argument you made against the thought-experiment. You keep saying it’s really bad, but still… I can’t find where you say why (except to tell me it’s old).
I am, of course, fully aware that my position is considered to be philosophically crude (that’s why I said somewhere that my colleague called mr a terribly unsophisticated or naive emotivist). Indeed, I was at lunch with some philosophy academic types the other day, and they were laughing amongst themselves that the one thing they hoped that their students would learn in the course of their studies was that moral subjectivism was terribly bad!
And yet, if it’s so bad, how come nobody has anything convincing to say about it. Except to make gestures towards not throwing out babies with bath water, etc.
It’s all very odd.
“You just want to complain”
Now I do. Originally I stupidly wanted to know what your actual opinions were, rather than how many obscure words you could fit into the longest sentance. You may not care if people you talk to can understand you or not, but if you don’t it shows contempt for people who are investing time in hearing what you have to say.
“Perhaps I should just yield the field of honor to those who are more capable of computer-assisted stylishness”
That is a load of toilet. The issue is nothing to do with computer assisted stylishness. It is to do with whether you are actually saying anything or just stringing together a load of words hoping that people are too intimidated to point out you are not saying anything worth that amount of writing. You don’t need a computer to write clearly, you are throwing in a red herring there, as well you know.
Your writing is exactly like that used in the Paul Sokal hoax. He did it as a parody, and to make a point about how easy it is to get some people to think you are making profound statements if dressed up in enough long words and incoherent sentances.
To be honest, I am not that interested anymore. I did want to know what your opinions were, but I just can’t be bothered to read your posts anymore. I have not read most of your recent posts, as they are too long and full of inpenetrable language. For all I know, your views may be exactly the same as mine on many of the issues discussed. I just don’t know. Most other contributers seem able to make sophisticated points without using so many words. In fact the only time you become articulate is when you are busy defending yourself against charges of obfuscation. So it seems you CAN be understandable when you want to be, when you are making a point that you actually want others to understand. On other matters less dear to your heart than your own credibility however, you descend it unintelligabilty, and then go blaming everyone else for not being able to understand you.
FWIW, and that’s not a lot, my view is that John is making reasonable and coherent arguments (though incomplete and far from persuasive), but that the technical language is totally unnecessary. As far as I can tell, he could make exactly the same points without using it. And that’s irritating, because it suggests – even if it isn’t the case – that the use of the language is part of a tactic of argumentation.
Jerry S.
I agree with you, and that is part of my point. John is doing himself a disservice. I am actually interested in what he might think, but I can only afford so much time on reading an individual’s contribution. Personally I would be flattered if someone was interested enough in what I had to say that if they couldn’t understand me, they kept asking me to rephrase until I did. If I thought the guy was an idiot, I wouldn’t care whether I understood him or not. He clearly isn’t, and I want to know what he thinks. But not at any price, I have a finite time on this mortal coil, and I can’t waste it on trying to decipher dense writing that is far more verbose than is necessary.
Well, Jerry S, I have to admit that you’ve convinced me. You’ve convinced me only partially, reluctantly, and tentatively, but convinced me nonetheless.
I’ve been thinking about a statement I made some time ago, in another post, about “Madame Bovary.” The gist of it was that I could see why many people thought it a brilliant novel, but I just couldn’t seem to like it very much myself. Even though the novel is wonderfully written and meticulously contructed, all of that is in the service of a view of life very much at odds with mine, and I couldn’t get past that. So while someone could argue that the novel is a powerful and pitiless examination of life, I could always deny that something like that is necessarily “good.” I guess I knew that before, but I know it more clearly now.
But I don’t think I’ll ever be more than partially convinced. For one thing, the fact that I can recognize objective characteristics of Flaubert’s writing, like his narrative structure, use of verb tense, etc., means I can still recognize “Madmame Bovary” as a real achievment – just one I don’t happen to personally love as much as say, “Pride and Prejudice.” This may not help us assign “Madame Bovary,” a definitive ranking in the pantheon of novels, but it does help us to understand what’s in the novel, and that may (just may) help us gain appreciation for it.
For another, I just have an inherent dislike of any ideas that make it easier for people not to think, and aesthetic relativism makes it too easy for people to just say “I like what I like, and that’s it.”. I’ve seen too many children and adults completely fail to understand even the basic themes of major works of literature, and congratulate themselves for their failure. Granted, understanding the political ideas at the core of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” is not the same thing as thinking it’s a great novel, but the two things don’t seem wholly unrelated, either. And the biographies of great thinkers provide many stories about the ways exposure to the world of art opened up new vistas of thought and experience, making their later achievments possible. (Yeah, I know, we can still reject the implication that this art is “better” than other kinds of art.)
So, even if the cogitive emotivist stance is true, I still can’t help thinking that some works of art are better than others. Hell, maybe I think that way BECAUSE the cognitive emotivist stance is true. If so, value judgments about art are deeply ingrained in the way many of us think about it, and all the hand-waving in the world won’t make them go away. Even if they can’t be definitively grounded.
Phil
Ha, he’s convinced you! He is a convincing bastard, isn’t he. I keep finding that. ‘Reluctantly.’ Just so. That’s exactly what I said.
But – I still say that it doesn’t really matter, that the discussion is still worth having even if it is hand-waving. So much of human activity is hand-waving! But it’s still interesting all the same.
The thing about this is that it is just an incredibly hard argument to make that there are objective criteria for aesthetic judgements. It is much easier to argue my position. So it isn’t so much that what I say is convincing, but rather that it’s very difficult to think of reasons why my position is wrong.
I’m more confident that I’m right about this aesthetic thing, than I am about the moral emotivism.
If John could get over his obsession with technical language, then there might be mileage in what I think is his argument that what we mean when we talk about matters of morality precludes an emotivist approach. (Not that I think he’s actually made the argument yet, but I think that’s what pointing at.)
Yeah, true enough. I suppose what you’re doing is not so much convincing as reminding. I have a tendency to like to think I can make a case for my aesthetic judgments, but when reminded, I do recollect that I can’t really – not finally.
But of course that doesn’t in the least stop me from doing it provisionally.
“the discussion is still worth having even if it is hand-waving. So much of human activity is hand-waving! But it’s still interesting all the same.”
Yep. That’s one of the things I was getting at when I was saying that value judgments are deeply ingrained in the way many of us think about art. If we stop talking about value judgments, I suspect our whole experience of art will be impoverished.
The thing is, the word “art” itself causes some of these problems. “Art” usually signifies some sort of achievment – it seems to mean something beyond just haphazardly organized expression. And the pleasures we tend to associate with “art” tend to be more complex pleasures – pleasures qualitatively different from, say, those of wolfing down a plate of nachos. Granted, some of this may result from what Bacon called “idols of the marketplace,” or games we play on ourselves through language. But all of it?
As long as we can point to actual skills an artist may have – such as technial mastery of language, a penchant for analogies and metaphors, etc., I still think there’s plenty of justification for using value judgments. So yes, my concession remains partial, and reluctant, and all the rest.
Phil
And for that matter value judgments are ingrained in the way we think about a lot of things – possibly most things. As various other kinds of illusions are. We wouldn’t want to do without them, however provisional they may be…
Okay John, your whole post responded to:
“I just use whatever words happen to pop into my head,”
With respect, that is just a daft way to proceed. You have to have half a thought at least about your audience. Just using whichever words pop into your head will almost inevitably lead to bad writing (and that’s an empirical claim, in case you’re tempted to accuse me of essentialism, or something).
“But please note the contradictory imperatives being issued, in lieu of a response: “You type too long” and “your arguments are incomplete.””
These are not contradictory imperatives (in fact, they’re not imperatives at all). I think you should develop your arguments bit by bit in shorter posts.
“I did respond to your supposed grand conundrum.”
There’s a hint of ad hominem in that. I said that the condundrum was written up half as a joke. It hardly suggests I think it grand. I could, however, turn it into a grand conumdrum, I reckon.
“My answer was that the argument was irrelevant and added nothing to the question of whether ethical norms and judgments are susceptible to some degree of rational justification.”
That’s an answer, but it isn’t an argument. And I’d be interested to hear about “some degree of rational justification” – it sounds like an interesting beast.
“Certainly, it did nothing to underwrite the claims of “ethical emotivism”, whatever that might be.”
It didn’t claim to do that. It claimed simply to show that any rationally derived outcome in ethics is defeasible non-rationally.
“In fact, the only issue it raised was the extent to which the choice of an example determines an argument.”
That’s assertion, not argument.
“But the choice of the most extreme and exceptional case to “logically” manipulate an argument and wield a tactic of intimidation is precisely characteristic of skeptical claims.”
How do you cash that out without begging the question? Obviously, the example of Nazism is only extreme in a moral sense if we’ve already established that there are moral facts. The only sense in which this example is “extreme” is that it is set up to tap people’s intuitions about the *foundations* of their moral beliefs. Do you mean it is extreme in the sense of being unusual or what?
“But the occasional failure of perceptual claims does nothing to invalidate the totality of our cognitive practices, nor the role that perceptual claims play in them.”
This is a false analogy. The point about the thought experiment isn’t that it shows that our moral frameworks founder, it is that it shows that our moral frameworks don’t rest on the foundations that we think that they rest on.
The rest of that paragraph is flawed because you misunderstand the force of the thought experiment. However, it is possible that you could use a version of the argument you want to develop here in order to attack my position. But you haven’t done so yet.
I’ve read your last two paragraphs, and obviously we could discuss them, but let’s sort this stuff out first (since your final two paragraphs are more about moving the debate on).
Also, for the purposes of clarity, if you’re inclined to reply, why don’t we separate the stuff about style from the stuff about ethics?