Archive for the Category » Philosophy «

Saturday, June 20th, 2009 | Author: Moody
The following material, in this and related posts upcoming, draws extensively upon the writing of philosopher Walter A. Kaufmann, whose 1958 book, Critique of Religion and Philosophy, I have lately been re-reading. I have attempted to provide my own take on the material, putting it into my own words, with the idea of saying what I think, of expressing what I understand, while also promoting his work to those who may not have read it. I also wrote this post as a way for me to test my own understanding of the material discussed and to put it out there for public scrutiny and comment.

Part 1: What do you know?

I.

When it comes to religion, I think it is fair to say that there are difficulties with regard to the definition of “truth” and “knowledge”. Many (if not most) religious people will tell you that they “know God exists”. The immediate question arising from this is, How do they know? Perhaps a better first question would be, What do they mean by “know”? And but so, of course, we need to have a firm idea about what “to know” means to us.

If I say to a friend that “I know my car is in the garage”, I am stating that it is true that the car is in the garage, and I am peremptorily and implicitly stating that my assertion is true (or correct). I am also making a falsifiable statement; someone can check to see if it is true or false that my car is in the garage. But what does it mean to the statement if the car is, in fact, in the garage? Is it certain then that I actually knew? Is “I know my car is in the garage” (S1) equivalent to a statement like, “I know my name is James” (S2)?

Let’s look at S1 and S2 in a bit more detail.

Assume that the friend I am talking to recognizes which car is mine. Does it affect any quality of my stating S1 if I make the statement over the phone to my friend, who is not there, while standing in the garage with my car, vs. making the statement while standing, say, in the living room of my friend’s house with my friend, both of us unable to see my car? In either case the statement remains falsifiable. If the car is right there with me when I state S1, then, barring delusion or insanity, one could grant that I certainly do know, even if no-one else is with me at that moment. The same goes for if my friend is there with me when I state S1, only one might add that this latter situation would grant an immediate empirical quality to my statement. But does any of this make a significant difference to our understanding of knowledge itself?

Can there be empirical knowledge of S2? Yes, of course. Is it then the same kind of knowledge as indicated by S1? Yes. Empirical knowledge of the stars gained through the use of telescopes does not differ from empirical knowledge of various mathematical proofs gained from studying mathematics. That is, S2 is just as falsifiable and evidence-based as S1. In the case of S2, I have a birth certificate, a drivers license with my picture on it, a Social Security card, and other forms of identifying material. I have the testimony of my parents who named me. In a room full of people, I honestly respond to the name “James” and not to others. Although “James” is not a physical thing that one can touch or sense directly like a car in a garage, there are nonetheless multiple ways of obtaining empirical (real world) evidence to support my assertion that “I know my name is James” is a true statement.

This is not to say that I may not, in fact, be mistaken in either case. Although it is unlikely that I am wrong about either one, there is the possibility, however remote, that I don’t actually know, even though my stating S1 or S2 was done in good faith. But I think that it should be fairly obvious to the reader that S1 stated out of sight of the car, would sooner fall into doubt than S2 stated at nearly any time.

II.

True knowledge may always be falsified. If a statement is made that asserts knowledge that cannot be falsified, there is no way to determine if it is in fact knowledge, and reason to doubt that it is in any way knowable. Statements that depend on (or are somehow meant to be justified by) unfalsifiable knowledge—rather than providing a way toward falsifying the asserted knowledge—are doubly suspect. Thus, if one states that “I know faeries are good because they keep trolls out of my garden”, then all one has done is begged the question. Were one to state that “I know faeries are good because they keep slugs off my tomatoes”, that could be tested a number of ways. But here it is very important to note that an absence of slugs on the tomatoes would not in itself constitute any proof that faeries were responsible. There would have to be tests that could actually address the statement. Nor would it do the statement any good if it turned out that your kindly next door neighbor had sprayed the tomatoes for you and you then said the faeries compelled her to do so.

On the other hand, even if something seems difficult to apprehend or test, if it is falsifiable and it passes tests of falsifiability, then it may be said to be known or knowable. Famously, this would apply to Einstein’s formula, E=mc2. It also applies to the theory of evolution, which requires a fairly robust level of education to really grok. One may doubt that something is true (as formulated or presented) or knowable, but it becomes less and less rational to do so as it passes test after test and is not proven false. At this point, for instance, no educated person in her or his right mind (no rational person) would doubt that the earth is a fairly oblate spheroid object orbiting the sun. Again, the same goes for E=mc2 and the theory of evolution.

III.

One thing that should be gleaned from the above paragraphs is that there is no room for “subjective” truth where knowledge is concerned. Although one can make a good faith assertion that something is known or true (S1 and S2) and be mistaken, this is a far cry from a statement like, “It’s true for me that stars are actually plugged in to a cosmic electrical grid”. The fact of the matter is that there is no “true for me” in that sense, regardless of whether you actually believe it or not. If you were to tell me that it was true for you that you could fly by strenuously flapping your arms, I would have every right to doubt your assertion and ask you to prove it. If you then began to strenuously flap your arms and said, “Look! I’m flying!”, I would have every reason to think that something was wrong with you or that you were trying to have one over on me. If you then said to me, in all sincerity, “You didn’t see me flying because you don’t believe, but I [know that I] did fly, and whatever you say it is still true to me”, I would have to say, if only to myself, “You poor, deluded bugger”.

Sincerity and feelings cannot establish the fact or truth of something beyond themselves. One may sincerely believe in faeries, and feel their presence all around, but this in no way proves that there are faeries; it is simply evidence of your sincerity and feelings. Appealing to the number of people who also believe in faeries (though some of them spell it f-a-i-r-i-e-s) does not lend itself as any kind of proof of faeries, either. You must provide something falsifiable. I shall remain a non-faerieist until such time as some real evidence comes my way. But really, I’ve never seen a single shred of falsifiable evidence for faeries that wasn’t in the end a failure for the faerieists. So, truth be told, I’m an afaerieist; I deny the existence of faeries due to lack of supporting evidence; I have no faith in faeries.

But, all kidding aside, is there no empirical evidence for “God”?

Stay tuned for Part 2: What do you believe? Suggestions, criticisms and comments are welcomed and encouraged.

Category: Atheism, Philosophy, Religion/Spirituality, Science  | Comments off
Sunday, May 24th, 2009 | Author: Moody

It does not follow that the meaning must be given from above; that life and suffering must come neatly labeled; that nothing is worth while if the world is not governed by a purpose. – Walter Kaufmann

Walter A. Kaufmann

Walter A. Kaufmann

In my late teens and for too long after I had some odd beliefs. They are irrelevant now, and here, save insofar as they led me to read at some depth the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche. I don’t think reading Nietzsche was at all a mistake. In some ways, it’s thanks to him that I recovered my self from my convictions. But there is a greater debt I owe, and that is to the one translator of Nietzsche I trusted wholeheartedly: Walter A. Kaufmann (b. 1-July-1921, d. 4-September-1980), Professor of Philosophy at Princeton. So impressed was I with his erudition and lucid prose, after reading two or three of his Nietzsche translations, and moved by his whole attitude toward philosophy and life—as I found it expressed in his prefaces and footnotes to Nietzsche’s works, and especially in his book, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist—that I went out and bought three more of his books.

I am currently re-reading the first of those books: Critique of Religion and Philosophy (1958), and I wanted to quote at length from the “Preface to the Princeton Paperback Edition” in the hope that you, dear reader, will perhaps be inspired, too, to seek out his works. Kaufmann is an especially vibrant philosopher, passionate, yet no less incisive for it, and he speaks to the secular humanist with a clear voice of matters oft neglected. He speaks even to the jaded, experienced adult like me, who has seen much but has not necessarily borne in mind some of the most important lessons of an otherwise thoughtful life.

Without further ado, I give you the quotation:

Detail from Rembrandts Large Self-Portrait (1652)

Detail from Rembrandt's ''Large Self-Portrait'' (1652)

Rembrandt’s “Large Self-Portrait” in the Vienna art museum cast a spell on me when I first saw it. But it spoke to me even more when I saw it again in 1962 after three weeks in Poland. In Warsaw I had virtually smelled the blood of the Jews killed there in 1943, and I had also spent an afternoon in Auschwitz. The portrait looked more powerful than ever after these experiences. Rembrandt had been twelve when the Thirty Years War began, and this painting was done four years after the devastation of Europe had ended. In those days there was no market for Rembrandt’s many self-portraits. They were not painted for clients nor with any hope of a sale. Here was integrity incarnate. But how could one pass the muster of these eyes? One has to do something for a living, especially if one has a family, but I felt that I wanted to write only in the spirit in which Rembrandt had painted himself, without regard for what might pay or advance my career. And whenever I think about the millions killed during the second World War and ask myself what I have done with the life granted to me but not to so many others, the books I have written spell some small comfort. …The aspect of [Critique of Religion and Philosophy] about which I don’t have any second thoughts at all is that I feel more than ever that humanists should be concerned less with the opinions of their peers and elders than with the challenge of Rembrandt’s eyes.

Let these words be a clarion call to make the welkin ring, and may we find in our lives the strength to answer.