The dream begins

We begin this semester in CoPhi with Anthony Gottlieb's acclaimed Dream of Reason: A History of Western Philosophy from the Greeks to the Renaissance. Last year we did Bertrand Russell's History, so a bit of cross-referencing seems in order. Two storytellers are better than one, say we pluralists and CoPhilosophers. "Our intelligence cannot wall itself up alive, like a pupa in its chrysalis. It must at any cost keep on speaking terms with the universe that engendered it," said the author of A Pluralistic Universe. The way we stay on speaking terms is by speaking with one another, honestly, humbly, and (as Mr. Rosewater knows) kindly. That, again, is our "philosophy of co."

 Gottlieb's approach is avowedly journalistic, in the best sense: go straight to the primary source whenever possible, question everything, and be clear. All of that is easier said than done, especially (when exploring complicated ideas) clarity. But it's to Gottlieb's credit, as it was to Russell's, to make that a priority.  James's "stubborn effort to think clearly," and Russell's "unusually obstinate" description, may seem mere common sense. 

But common sense is itself often stubbornly, obstinately wrong. That's "the joke at the heart of philosophy" as it deliberately spurns conventional wisdom, in search of the real thing. Sometimes the joke's on us philosophers, sometimes on the commoners. But of course we all recur to common sense, and we all need to get better at putting it on the rack of critical scrutiny. We're all philosophers in embryo, but to grow into mature thinkers we need to learn when to trust our common inheritance and when to challenge it. We need to stand up from our respective Thinking Rocks and move, and converse, and think again - like the pair of peripatetics in the School of Athens.

Western science was created when the first (western) philosophers stopped settling for the "God(s) did it" non-explanation of things and went looking for natural causes. That led to enlightenment, of a sort, and to Gottlieb's next volume, The Dream of Enlightenment.

But today, our topic is bounded by these questions: What's your definition of "philosophy"? Do you have a favorite philosopher? Can you summarize your current, personal philosophy of life?

A glance back, to last August 24:

We're off, with Bertrand Russell's introductory chapter in his History. There we're cautioned against the "impertinent insolence towards the universe" of dogmatic theology, and directed instead to the gray space between certainty and paralysis that good philosophers occupy. Then we're told that the Stoics presaged Christianity, that Montaigne's "fruitful disorder" made him a representative man of his age, that Descartes' subjectivist inflation of ego as philosophic method was insanely contrary to common sense, and that every community must negotiate the extreme opposite dangers of either too stultifying a regard for tradition or too much personal independence.

Those are just a few of the countless sharp opinions Russell will deliver, with audacity and biting wit, in this narrative. Another: that philosophy occupies a No Man's Land between theology and science. So, we'll wonder: are no theologians or scientists philosophers? Is there more than one way to be a philosopher? Here I'll invoke Professor James's observation that we all have some implicit philosophy or other. For a No Man's Land, it's pretty crowded.

Other points to ponder, prompted by this chapter: Is there any higher duty than that to one's fellow humans? What do we owe the state, our contemporaries, our successors? In what specific ways should it matter to us that we're standing on a planet that's evolving and revolving, on a distant spiral arm of a relatively nondescript galaxy, one among trillions? Ought we ever to acknowledge the authority of any individual or institution, to settle matters of belief and conscience? (Good question to ask on the anniversary of the first edition of the Gutenberg Bible.)

Some students will become frustrated with all these questions. I'll happily suggest answers, and will not hesitate to advocate for my own. But the key takeaway today is that in philosophy the questions always outpace the answers, and we're okay with that. Love it, in fact.
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To follow up on what I was saying about respecting one another's humanity even when we can't respect one another's beliefs or philosophical conclusions, here's a wonderful npr story I heard on the way home from class: "I saw his humanity..." (listen here)

...What came to me was that he was a human being, and I didn't want to see anybody die. And, you know, I've been thinking a lot about the events in Charlottesville, and I remember seeing the pictures of a young man being brutally beaten by these guys with poles, and when I saw that I thought, "why didn't anybody step in?"
And you know, in retrospect, it doesn't matter if he doesn't see my humanity, what matters to me is that I see his. What he thinks about me and all of that, like — my humanity is not dependent upon that...

Mary Shelley would have appreciated that story, she wrote one about a guy whose humanity was unfairly denied. "It's the birthday of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (books by this author), born Mary Godwin in London, England (1797). She is famous as the author of Frankenstein (1818), which is considered the first science fiction novel ever written." WA
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What do you think is the biggest misconception about today's college students?
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A base to the first student today who can tell me whose shoes are these?

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A student brings to my attention a YouTube channel called "Crash Course," and specifically its entry on philosophy. I watched two minutes of it, it looks ok. If you find other helpful sites and sources, please share the link (and take your base).

1.19.17 5:30/6:57, 47/64, 4:58
Happy birthday to the creator of the Imagination Library, and the largest employer in Sevier County TN. (A bonus run to the student who today first tells me who that is.)