False Good Ideas

False Good Ideas

There should be a category of false good ideas: ideas that are clever and appealing but clearly false. These ideas will tend to catch on despite their obvious falsity, because they appear to solve problems. Most of philosophy is made up of these ideas; they might be said to constitute the subject. I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing: it is good to see what the options are and what their faults may be. Discovering the truth is another matter. Science isn’t like this—it regularly comes up with true good ideas (though sometimes false ones). There ought to be a prize for the best false good idea in philosophy. Of course, they are not generally recognized as false at the time of their promulgation; in retrospect, however, it seems obvious and we wonder how people could have been taken in. I will make a list.

I don’t think there are any false good ideas in Plato and Aristotle (I’m not counting his physics), because I don’t think any of their ideas are obviously and demonstrably false, and many are good. But the category comes into its own in the modern period, beginning with Descartes. Surely, his substance dualism, though attractive and ingenious, is clearly false—today it is scarcely necessary to argue the point (the pineal gland says it all). Empiricism is manifestly false, though enormously appealing—simple, commonsensical, unmysterious, monolithic. Wouldn’t it be great if all knowledge were simply a carbon copy of the senses? We could all go home and play backgammon. Unfortunately, the problems are staring us in the face, particularly the problem posed by a priori knowledge. By contrast, rationalism is true but not so good—because it has no decent account of how innate knowledge arises and has an air of mystery about it (God gets wheeled in). Honorable mention goes to Berkeley for his theistic idealism: extremely clever, theoretically impressive, but not remotely credible. Almost magnificently false. For a while, these false but good ideas dominated the philosophical landscape, as they were absorbed, refined, and then steadily criticized (Thomas Reid was a dissenting voice). It wasn’t until the twentieth century that new brilliantly false ideas hit the airwaves. Frege was an early exponent of the brilliantly false, though his ideas were never mainstream (and many of his ideas are not clearly false). I am thinking of his ontology of functions and objects—concepts as unsaturated entities, truth-values as objects. Personally, I have been entranced by these theories and I recommend that everyone study them (even construction workers), but they are not exactly shining examples of indisputable truth. Is The False really an object like your kitchen table? Now consider Wittgenstein: the picture theory of meaning is a delightful theory, resolving many a vexing problem, but it is not exactly manifestly true. The tautology theory of necessary truth is also wide of the mark, though certainly appealing. The distinction between saying and showing has not worn well, though arresting enough. Russell’s theory of descriptions is extremely clever, but has been subject to serious criticism; it is no longer regarded as irrefutably true. Nor has Russell’s mathematical logicism stood the test of time, despite its prima facie appeal. Logical atomism withered long ago.

But it was logical positivism that specialized in palpable outright falsity. The reason this was not recognized is that it is an extremely good theory, judged by the standards of philosophy. It solves so many problems! It refutes traditional religion, demolishes troublesome metaphysics, offers a deflationary theory of a prioriknowledge, and for good measure puts ethics on a sound emotional footing (supposedly). What’s not to like? You just have to swallow the falsehoods and foolishness (is every unverifiable proposition really meaningless?). The positivist emperor had no clothes, but he sure talked a good game. Admit it, we have all been tempted by logical positivism at one time or another (I believed it in my youth for at least 24 hours). It’s a great theory, just not too hot in the truth department. Similarly for its descendants and fellow-travelers: pragmatism, instrumentalism, conventionalism, confirmational holism, and the like. The doctrine of phenomenalism was ingenious and exciting, but it collapsed like a house of cards in short order. Behaviorism suffered the same fate after an initial surge of enthusiasm. Now we wonder how these doctrines could have been believed so fervently, forgetting the lure of the novel and fashionable. And the doctrines had clear philosophical payoffs—it wasn’t just shiny objects and false hopes. More recently, we have had the causal theory of knowledge and reference, the token identity theory, Tarski-type truth theories, functionalism, possible worlds semantics, meaning externalism, experimental philosophy, panpsychism, supervenience, zombies, virtue ethics, epistemology and metaphysics naturalized (have I forgotten anything?). All these are goodtheories in that they purport to solve philosophical problems, or at least move the needle forward: they give us something to think about, to pin our hopes on. I see their appeal, I really do. But are they true? Do they seemtrue? Don’t we see a pattern of failure, of hopes dashed? There was a time when many people saw in Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations a path to philosophical enlightenment, but those days are past. The initial excitement wore off, just as it has throughout philosophical history. Maybe we can find some truth in these ideas, but we don’t find complete and final truth. We don’t find philosophical closure. This is not a counsel of despair, but it is a warning against premature and rash optimism. The good is not the same as the true. Let’s by all means keep looking for good theories, but let’s not get too carried away by them. Curb your enthusiasm, as the philosopher once advised.[1]

[1] You might have wondered why that philosopher (Larry David) called his comedy series “Curb Your Enthusiasm”, given that this title seems to have nothing to do with the content of the shows. A more descriptive title might have been “Be Careful What You Say” or “Watch Your Step”. Larry never shows any enthusiasm for anything he does, yet he still gets into hot water all the time. I choose to believe that he is expressing his general philosophy of life: Don’t get too carried away, don’t believe everything you hear, don’t succumb to the latest dogma, don’t suspend your rational faculties. Philosophers, like everyone else, need to curb their enthusiasm.