"Philosophers as Warriors?" Pardon?

It has long been said that "the pen is mightier than the sword," but I'm not exactly sure just how many people believe that to be the case. For example, if I posed the following question--are philosophers warriors(?)--to a random sample of one hundred people, what would my response be? Agreement, laughter, confusion? (I predict laughter.) While this question may sound ridiculously silly, I believe that there is a shred of truth in such a question, albeit a potentially undesirable truth.

In this post, I will briefly discuss an essay by Edwin Burtt, a Professor of Philosophy at Cornell University. Burtt's essay is entitled "Philosophers as Warriors" and, besides having a rather laughable title, offers insight into modern education and philosophical discourse. Burtt proposes (and I agree) that education, as well as philosophy, have been compromised with a violent demeanor and, consequently have become disenfranchised from their original intentions.

Burtt explains the modern climate as such: "Consequently, the significant ideal underlying the dialectic has been almost lost from sight: the ideal of a free discusion among seekers for truth, in which all take part and which leads, step by step, to a conclusion wholly convincing to each participant." (1) In other words, the open-minded acceptance of divergent viewpoints--characteristic of successful educational or philosophical discussion--has been lost. The Socratic dialogue is no more. Philosophy isn't philosophy anymore; it has been replaced with verbal battle, transforming educational discourse into verbal conquest. But wait: isn't that what philosophy is all about?

Not quite. Philosophical discussion, as well as education, is not (and was never intended) to be a successive chain of verbal victories. Nothing can be learned from such actions; mutual understanding is lost at the request of individual triumph. How is this so? Why the selfish desire for victory at all costs? Why sacrifice mutual understanding in favor of a solitary victory?

Perhaps in order to "better" order our world?

We all are confronted with a dizzying array of information daily. The world is a very scary, confusing and chaotic place and all we hope for is a tiny bit of understanding. We want to fit in, to comprehend, to overcome the confusion inherent in the world around us. In pursuing this goal, we have unfortunately compromised one of the most useful tool towards understanding our surroundings: educational, philosophical discussion.

Instead of learning about those other beliefs far from our own, we attempt to associate with those that agree the most with us. Anyone that suggests something outside of this hypothetical box is consequently met with a calculated philosophical, argumentative attack in which we try to prove the correct-ness of our own position. We refuse to see the opposition unless that admit defeat, in which case we refuse to let them forget. While we attribute such battle to the "triumph of the truth," the "conquering of the correct" or any other analogous phrase, it seems that we cling to whatever understanding we may possess, despite contradictory evidence.

The world is messy, confusing and sometimes doesn't make sense. Maybe we use verbal debates, "wars of philosophy" to disguise the fact that we really don't know what's going on, we really just want to embrace whatever understanding we may have to the fullest extent. And in doing so, we only complicate matters even more.

Just a thought.

References

(1) Edwin A. Burtt, "Philosophers as Warriors," in The Critique of War: Philosophical Explorations, ed. Robert Ginsberg (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1969), 31.

Pardon the hiatus...

I haven't posted in a while. Life intervened and extenuating circumstances got in the way. In hindsight, though, this experience illuminated an entirely new realm of questions that this blog seeks to explore.

I should probably clarify a bit. That might be useful. 

About a week ago a tragic hospitalization brought many people together. Details aren't really necessary, but I will touch on the most significant recollection from that very trying week spent in close proximity to modern medical practices. 

My overall reflections on hospitals, stability and the inherence of chaos: 

Hospitals are shining bastions of stability in a turbulent sea of sorrow, confusion and anger (substitute these three terms with "chaos.") I have never experienced a more well-run, fine-tuned machine than a modern hospital; every possible need one may have has been thought of and pre-planned for. This structure, in contrast to the human emotions that run rampant through a hospital's halls, provide a comfort, an almost homely feel, that is priceless during a time of struggle. In a sense, it seems that hospitals thrive by recognizing and addressing the human need for the continued presence of order. 

With that understanding, though, and in combination with my inability to understand the past week's circumstance, I think I have come to another recognition, perhaps one that is more profound. There truly is so much that I will never be able to understand. Matthew McIntosh echoes this sentiment in this novel, Well: 

"The trick, he said, is to refuse to believe that any of this makes sense. Because when it does--when the world and life and the way things are make sense--then you know there's really something wrong with you...This world should be incomprehensible to us. Rape shouldn't make sense and murder shouldn't make sense and neither should car wrecks and bombings and loneliness and cancer and diabetes and television."(1)

I think I agree. No amount of rationalization can explain tragedy which, of course, begs the question: why do we try to explain it? Attempts to fathom the unfathomable only frustrate us further.

Sometimes, it seems, inevitable chaos is best accepted allowing us to be thankful for the opportunities we were given. Namely, the opportunity for modern medical care.

References

(1) Matthew McIntosh, Well (Grove Press: New York, 2003), 102.