I put some effort into explaining that without going full mystical mumbo jumbo. You could at least mull it over for a second. — frank
I apologize for being short. But I already spent much time mulling over what Adorno said, and I didn't find that your brief effort really added anything significant.
I've added the bolded "do" to make it clear what Adorno is saying. He is saying that the idea has some truth to it.
First, I think we can all agree with Adorno that philosophical questions are generally/often not "abolished through their solution." That is, what appear as solutions are not really solutions at all, and the questions become reformulated or perhaps discarded as uninteresting, never solved with the gathering of data as in science. This is why "their rhythm in the history of philosophy would be more akin to duration and forgetting." The rhythm is not question -> data/proof -> solution. — Jamal
I completely agree to this point. I find there is a lot of truth to that perspective, that in philosophy the question is usually more important than the answer. But for me, the reason for this is that the questions asked are ones that never get completely answered. So we have from the time of ancient Greece, and probably even before that, (but we can't properly interpret what was asked before that) the very same questions being ask even up to today. These are questions about divinity, good, time, space, infinity. These questions get answered over and over again by every philosopher who approaches ontology, but the answers never satisfy us, so the questions persist, to be addressed over and over again, maintaining importance, while the proposed solutions are discarded.
Now, the way that a good philosophical question "almost always includes in a certain manner its answer" is that a good philosophical question already shows us what we are looking for; it tells us the kind of answer that will satisfy us—but unlike science this is not external. The question embodies a particular experience, one rooted historically and socially. So the answer is not external to the question, as it is with empirical data in science, but immanent to the genesis of the question. This is the meaning of "It must model its question on that which it has experienced, so that it can catch up to it." — Jamal
I do see that he is proposing some form of empiricist perspective, philosophy "must model its question on that which it has experienced". But that premise does not produce the conclusion which he draws, "the authentic question almost always includes in a certain manner its answer". If it is true, as a fact, that we question our experience, this does not produce the conclusion that the answer to those questions is necessarily within that experience.
In fact, this attitude which Adorno seems to be proposing at this point, may be a big part of the reason why these questions never get answered. We look toward experience to answer the questions we have about experience, but this will never produce a solution because the reason why experience induces these questions is that these questions are the products of deficiencies of experience, where experience fails us in providing an explanation. This is what Plato indicates when he says that the senses deceive us, and we must use the power of the intellect to overrule the influence of the senses.
So to answer these questions which experience throws at us, due to its deficiencies, we turn to speculation. But speculation doesn't seem to provide the ultimate answers and the same questions, derived from the deficiencies of experience, remain through much speculations.
None of this is meant to imply that we can immediately read off the answer straight from the question. Nor does it mean that the answer can be deduced in the manner of mathematics or formal logic, as if all philosophical questions implied the whole philosophical system of the world in microcosmic tautology. — Jamal
I understand this, and that is why he says the question includes the answer "in a certain manner". This might be applicable to questions of empirical sciences, where there is a eureka moment of discovery. The question is formulated with precision such that it indicates exactly what the answer must be. But questions of ontology are vague and not like this. That is why the same question may have a multitude of different answers, each answer claiming to be the correct answer. The ontological questions really have nothing to indicate the criteria which the answer must fulfil.
This is significant, and it points to the incorrectness of what Wittgenstein says about the regions where words fail us, that we must be silent. In reality, philosophical questions must direct us into these areas which we have no words for, thus providing the initiative for the evolution of language and knowledge toward understanding. But this implies that the certitude of the question is its uncertainty. The only think the question takes for granted, as certain, is uncertainty. In other words, the question is simply an attempt to point at the uncertainty, as that which appears impossible to know, and asks how can we devise a way to know it. But the uncertainty inheres within the very question because even the direction which the question must point is uncertain. Therefore the question cannot even provide an indication as to what the answer will be.
But as a philosophical question—which we now see that it is—it expresses the conditions of its genesis, defining a horizon of meaning. It presupposes that there are two distinct things and that they are problematically related. This expresses a worldview which is already part of the kind of answer that might satisfy the question. The answer would be the answer it was owing to its dualism, and this was in the question already. — Jamal
I don't see this. The question presupposes dualism, because that is how the problem presents itself to us in experience, as the appearance of dualism, and dualism creates the problem of interaction. But the question might be resolved either by a dualist proposal, or a monist proposal. So the dualist presupposition is simply the empirical presentation of the problem. That presupposition ought not, and actually does not, impose any dualist conditions on the answer. The answer to the problem might be that the empirical presentation itself (the dualist representation), is itself incorrect (the senses deceive us), and the solution is monist.
I believe, that in the case of ontological questions, to think that the formulation of the question imposes such restrictions on the potential answer, is a mistaken idea. Ontological questions deal with the content itself, and the formulation of the question ought not distract us from that. This is why we can understand that the very same ontological questions pervade all cultures and languages, so long as we do not focus too closely on the formulation of the questions.
So Adorno isn't saying that asking a question magically gives you the answer, rather that in philosophy, the way a question is framed already expresses an insight into what it seeks. The question is not a neutral, disinterested request for information but the expression of an experience. Thinking it through, not importing information, is what brings answers to light. — Jamal
This is where I would disagree with Adorno then. I believe that to make this conclusion, Adorno is placing the ontological question into the same category as a question of empirical science, though he notes a difference between the two. "The way a question is framed", refers to an empirical description of the problem. If we say that the framing of the question places necessary restrictions on the possible answer, then we exclude the possibility that "the way a question is framed" is the problem (mistake) itself. Like the dualism example, the question may contain mistaken assumptions.
And I believe that in a world of changing knowledge, evolving cultures and languages, reframing of the question is very often the best approach in ontology. For example, Aristotle took the ancient question "why is there something rather than nothing", and showed how the question is much better posed as "why is there what there is rather than something else".
Anyway, I'll leave it at that. I seem to have developed a slight disagreement with Adorno at this level, but perhaps it will prove to be insignificant. My perspective is that the reason why the question is more important than the answer, is due to the need to determine the appropriate question. To be consistent with Adorno, maybe that's the answer which inheres within the question, that the question itself is wrong.