But I think the "who is this for?" framing quietly assumes that ignoring a philosophical question is a neutral option. — Esse Quam Videri
It wasn't meant to, and I don't think Dewey thought of moving on as a neutral move, but a necessary one. (I'll likely come back to this in a minute.)
One reason I was thinking about it was not just the known misalignment of science and philosophy, but because arguments have audiences, especially in philosophy where argument is overwhelmingly persuasive rather than demonstrative. You have to have a common vocabulary, some idea what the audience will accept as inference, and so on. That's true
within the field, and becomes particularly pointed when philosophy speaks of or to other fields. They have their own conceptions of evidence and inference that philosophy thinks it knows all about, and can even explain to the people in those fields, but too often the philosopher comes off looking like the management consultant or efficiency expert who doesn't really know anything about how the work he is "improving" is done.
Bonus reference(Herman Melville went to lecture of Emerson's once, which he recorded enjoying, "however, one cannot help but form the impression that, had Mr Emerson been present at the Creation, he would have offered several helpful suggestions.")
Every working scientist presupposes that nature is intelligible, that valid inference tracks truth, and that explanation is possible when they do their work. — Esse Quam Videri
I don't think that's quite true, not in its entirety. It's clearly something like an aspirational goal, but it seems to me the most a scientist needs to commit to is giving it a shot. Scientists seem generally very forthcoming about what they don't understand, and also about what, at the moment anyway, they don't even have a plan for figuring out. You
hope you'll be able to reach understanding, but the proof is in the pudding.
I had this very thread in mind when I was commenting
elsewhere this morning, that the process of science, indeed all sorts of learning, cannot presume it has the right concepts when the investigation is begun; what's needed is a process that will allow the "right" concepts, useful concepts, to emerge in the course of research. "Emerge" is probably a little too strong, even misleading there, though I think it's phenomenologically right, because we're really talking about revision, only sometimes the revision can be pretty dramatic.
The curious thing is, I think this applies even to the practice itself. That is, what kind of intelligibility is on offer will evolve with what you're able to achieve. It's why research fields involve a lot of hand-wringing about statistical analysis, what it shows and what it doesn't. And when something like a fundamental principle comes into view, you may be surprised to find a kind of intelligibility you didn't dare hope for.
So not only is there no assumption that a given research program can be successful in the long run, what kind of success it might or might not have might only become clearer through the process of research itself. It's all in play, all at the same time.
since this is a philosophy site which frequently examines precisely these kinds of recondite issues, I figure it's probably legitimate try to understand his argument. — Tom Storm
I did read this post, and I wrote a couple replies, which overlapped a bit with what I said above, but I didn't want to dump a whole 'nother thing in your thread for the second time.
But since
@Esse Quam Videri did such a bang-up job reconstructing Hart's arguments, and I expect you've gotten most of what you specifically wanted from this thread, maybe there's no harm in a little after-party chitchat in the driveway...
I've already mentioned Dewey, so I'll start with something else I've mentioned here (I don't know how many times) before, Burt Dreben's comment to Quine that "great philosophers don't argue."
You see, I wasn't actually arguing for "Shut up and calculate." I was quietly contesting the view that the business of philosophy is primarily argument, or, rather, argument conceived in a particularly narrow way.
What I am claiming is that no one is under any obligation to refute Hart's arguments. I was a long time coming to this view, and felt the old impulse when I saw your thread. (Saying "Explain this argument" is like waving catnip in front of me.) It's a lot of fun analysing arguments. It's interesting work—to me, anyway—trying to figure out where there is some subtle flaw in a piece of reasoning. (I indulged the old impulse a little in the infinity thread, because Zeno's paradoxes are attractive targets for this sort of work.)
It's worth doing if you learn something, and indeed I think I learned something about informal reasoning doing that sort of thing for many years on this site. It's work I enjoy, and sometimes I'm pretty good at it, but it tips over into a kind of intellectual bloodsport more easily than I am comfortable with.
Danger to the soul is not the main issue though; it's that sometimes there is a misalignment of methods and goals. If you refute Zeno's Dichotomy, have you shown that motion
is possible? Of course not. We all already know that motion is possible. The interest in studying the argument is purely in figuring out what's wrong with it. That's why it's a paradox. If you learn something about human thought, or about logic, from doing so, and that's what you wanted, great. That happens to be the sort of thing I want to know, so I've done a lot of that.
But suppose what I wanted to know about was
motion. Should I care that some yahoo has an obviously flawed argument that there's no such thing? If I allow myself to get sucked into dealing with him, just as a preliminary matter of course, before I move on to the actual work, then I'll recreate his damn paradox in my own work and never get to what I actually wanted to do.
What's worse, I will take on the framework and concepts of the argument, and then work to develop a counter-framework and improved concepts that are useful for dealing with this damned argument. I think there is an expectation in philosophy that the framework I develop there will be precisely the framework I need to understand motion, but I'm not at all sure we're warranted to make that assumption.
And the reason I have my doubts is because of what I said above: the concepts and theoretical frameworks you need develop within the process of research itself. Why would I think I will find the right concepts for understanding motion if I spend no time researching motion and all my time researching an old Greek argument? I deny myself, as a researcher, exactly the experiences I need to revise my conceptual framework.
(I think it's a fundamentally mistaken approach, and it's why I have so much trouble with SEP. The best philosophy is always, like science, work that is done on the phenomena themselves—even when those phenomena are theoretical rather than practical or physical—rather than purely counter-arguments to arguments.)
All of that—and I have several thousand more words I could add—is why I think it might be not only acceptable but a good idea just to ignore Hart. It depends on what your goal is, but philosophers like to pretend you are
required to deal with them, when there are good reasons to think you aren't.
— You're a somewhat special case, Tom, because your goal is often just to understand what someone else thinks and why, especially if it's quite different from what you think. That's your choice and, as I said, I think
@Esse Quam Videri has done yeoman service here in reconstructing the arguments. I still don't care, even after reading the reconstructions.