On Cancelling
On Cancelling
Here is a thought experiment for you. Suppose your top ten philosophers had all been cancelled: removed from pedagogical employment, prevented from publishing, and generally shunned. This possibility could cover the philosophers of the last hundred years or of all time. Suppose that their thoughts had therefore never seen the light of day. Suppose too that no one else had ever had them. No Plato, no Socrates (who was rather drastically cancelled), no Aristotle, Descartes, Locke, Leibniz, Berkeley, Hume, and Kant (you can make your own list). Philosophy would have had a very different history. These luminaries might or might not have been guilty of this or that (e.g., blasphemous speech); the thought experiment is more piquant if we suppose they were not but that the spirit of the times required it. Do you think that would be a bad thing? Do you think an effort should have been made to mitigate the effects of their cancellation? Suppose they had all gone on to become rich successful men living happy lives, but unable to contribute to philosophy (they clearly had brains). Meanwhile other second-rate individuals formed the philosophical tradition, perhaps those most responsible for doing the cancelling. Nobody worries much about this, however, since the cancelled philosophers never had the chance to do their work and hence never became known as the great thinkers they could have been. Do you think this would be a tragedy for philosophy or just a negligible historical hiccup?
I have existed in a state of professional cancellation for over ten years now. Before that I had normal access to teaching positions, publishers, conferences, professional contacts, and so on. Not anymore. I contributed to philosophy continuously for nearly forty years. If I had been cancelled earlier, that would not have been possible—my teaching, publications, and professional activities would have been cut off even earlier than they actually were. Let’s suppose it happened before 1989 when I published “Can We Solve the Mind-Body Problem?”—that article would never have existed. My other books, articles, reviews, and lectures would never have existed. Do you think that would have been a bad thing or not? Do you think that if it had not happened, I would have continued to produce what I used to produce? Of course I would have. So, many things I would have done I have not been able to do—books written, talks given, students taught. All that has been expunged from intellectual history. That is the cost of cancellation (and it’s not just me). Do you think that is all fine and dandy? Have you been complicit in it? (I hope not.)
As it happens, I have not been completely silenced by cancellation, though certainly much muffled. Because I have this blog. If I did not, none of the ideas contained herein would have reached the minds of interested parties. It is sheer luck that I have this place to make my results public. There has been a concerted campaign to keep me from exercising my normal rights to communicate my ideas to others in the usual ways. I couldhave gone completely silent. I could have decided to admit defeat and simply given up thinking about philosophy and writing it. Then nothing of my thoughts over the last ten years would ever have entered the historical record. Those thoughts would never have existed in all probability. And don’t think I have never considered it—what is in it for me in the time and effort it takes to write these pieces? So, why do I write them? I could be having fun, playing tennis, kite surfing, throwing knives, making music, travelling, reading novels, living the life of Riley. I write them for you—for other people, for posterity, for the good of the human race. That’s why I do it. Fortunately, I am strong-willed and resilient enough to face down the cancellation, to disdain it, to rise above it. This is my gift to the world, my moral duty as a thinker. I believe these papers have intellectual value. I believe people benefit intellectually from reading them. I believe it would be a tragedy if I never bothered to produce them. That may sound immodest to some (“narcissistic”), but it seems to me the simple truth. Before cancellation I was a very successful and esteemed philosopher; that has not changed. If anything, I am a better philosopher than I used to be. I have not allowed my present cancelled status to deflect me from my intellectual calling. True, I write with bitterness in my heart, with anger and disgust, but I still do it. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. I have never felt so altruistic in my life, so philanthropic, so generous (it’s not a particularly good feeling). Not a penny do I make from these writings, these uncounted hours of labor; not a promotion, not a pay increase, not even professional recognition. I do it because it is the best part of me, my God-given talent. I should be thanked for it, but of course stony silence is all I get from the American philosophy profession. Friends appreciate my efforts and so do many readers from across the globe who are not complicit in the cancellation (joyfully reveling in it in fact). I have not allowed the cancellers and their enablers to rob the world of the products of my labor, as I could so easily have done. I have continued to contribute to philosophy, despite the attempts to prevent it, successful as they have undoubtedly been. This is no mere thought experiment.[1]
[1] I could name many names, recount many incidents, indict many conspirators; but I will refrain from doing so. I think the bare facts speak for themselves. I do wonder if the responsible individuals even think about what they have done and are still doing; or is that too difficult? Notice the silence.
It is obvious to every philosophically competent person that your blog texts are high-quality stuff that deserves to be published in book form. The academic publishers should be ashamed of themselves for treating it like a hot potato.
I quite agree. I’m glad to see you had the courage to say it.
At the risk of saying the obvious: private matters or minor offenses are magnified out of proportion and people take personally things having nothing to do with them, in part because our technology enables this sorry distortion of everyday life. In your case, though ‘identity’ politics has something to do with it, important figures are made an example to establish new norms, to say in effect, nobody is above “the law”.
There are many examples including your own.
Everything is public and nothing private. Adjusting to this new normal is elusive.
Your stoic virtue in the face of this hassle is impressive.
I’ve at least described this phenonenon. Do you think there’s more to it?
I agree with this, but I think it’s a kind way to put it (kind to them). Envy and malice play a large role. (Let me be clear, I’m not referring to the people directly involved but to the philosophy profession at large and assorted others.)
Interesting thought.
A question:
Suppose I “conditionally cancelled” you. That is, I adopted a policy of citing you only when (a) I couldn’t adequately make my argument without considering (but not necessarily endorsing) a proposition p and (b) p cannot be attributed to anybody other than you.
Now, in order to do this, I would have to read what you wrote. And if, as you say is now true, you could not publish in academic journals, so I would have at least to scan what you wrote in blogs etc. But I pursue the policy that if you uniquely say something that I think is valuable, then I’ll cite you, otherwise not. (By the way, this wouldn’t include “mysterianism,” but this is a different matter.)
My question is: would your conditional cancellation be a “tragedy for philosophy?”
One remark: I am now retired and don’t get paid for any philosophy I write. Is this any different from your situation?
I’m not sure I see the point of this. No, it wouldn’t be a tragedy for philosophy. Does that answer your question?
Yes, my situation is different–not in respect of payment but in respect of the causes and context. This seems obvious.
I apologize if I’ve missed your point. Perhaps you meant prevented-from-philosophizing, not Ignored-and-completely-disregarded. Since you don’t fall under the first stricture, I took you to be making a point that covered both.
You said: “Let’s suppose [cancellation] happened before 1989 when I published “Can We Solve the Mind-Body Problem?”—that article would never have existed. My other books, articles, reviews, and lectures would never have existed. Do you think that would have been a bad thing or not?” I agree that it might be a bad thing, but I am suggesting that in the current situation, though there are many who don’t want to acknowledge your contributions to the field (and are thus practicing “Philosophy minus McGinn,” a more sensible form of cancellation (though still painful to you) would be to acknowledge and use your contributions where they are necessary.
I’m just saying that we should separate the Philosophy minus Plato/Aristotle/etc scenarios from the injury-to-you consequences of cancellation. Does that make sense?
Anyway, again, I am sorry if this is different from what you meant. But I think some would say that it is a person, not their ideas, that should be excluded from public discourse.
I actually think the intellectual world (as distinct from current American academic philosophy) has benefited enormously from my cancellation, because of the greater amount of time I have had to think and write over the past decade, and also because I have been able to write in my own style since the academic invitations mysteriously (sic) dried up.
It would certainly be more sensible to cite me when necessary, though I rather resent having my work used by people for whom I have so little respect.
I would prefer to say “infuriating” than “painful”–that word applies more to abandonment by so-called friends (that I will spare naming).
Genuine question: what’s stopping you from sending papers to triple-anonymous journals? The editors and referees won’t know you’re the author. And they won’t reject an accepted paper after they find out. Or if they do, you will have a very prominent anti-cancellation case on your hands.
I get it that at a certain stage of one’s career one may want to do mostly invited contributions, but in the circumstances, you still have good options to get around the cancellers.
The question is a little more complex. I don’t like publishing in the journals for the usual reasons and have submitted very little to them for many years. Also, the format I now use for writing would be unacceptable to the journals. There is also the distinct possibility that people guess I’m the author and I don’t want to give them the opportunity to reject me for corrupt reasons–even once. I’ve even had contracts cancelled when “information” about me reaches the people with power. This blog enables me to avoid all that.
OK, but then you won’t know if people are not engaging/citing because of cancellation or because you refuse to publish in peer reviewed venues. There’s an opportunity for something resembling an experiment here.
I already know that cancellation is a factor on other grounds (such as people telling me). I have of course published four books with MIT since the cancellation began.
The blog’s first paragraph seems forgetful of how frequently the philosophers whose work now forms the canon *were* cancelled or worse in the past, and how these risks shaped how, and where, they went about publishing. Think for example, of why Hume chose not to publish his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion during his lifetime; Spinoza’s expulsion from his own community; Locke’s need to flee England for the Netherlands; Galileo’s house arrest and so on. Academic freedom as we now understand it is only 200 years old at best. Of course, this isn’t a reason to weaken hard won protections for academic freedom now, but simply to note how much of the philosophy we now consider great philosophy was done in conditions of academic unfreedom.
You are quite right, of course (we could also mention Socrates and Russell). And the same story is being repeated now under a new repressive ideology (to wit contemporary American feminism). It is as stupid and shameful now as it ever was. Why are people unable to see this? Amazing. People really have no respect for academic freedom when it conflicts with their politics. I hope it is clear how strongly I am condemning the perpetrators.
Well said, and well done, Colin! Keep going and don’t bow down to the mullahs. Like the morality police in Iran, they have no respect for basic human rights, due process or protection of the innocent. Adding to James’s apt comment above, there have always been zealots, fanatics and lynchers. I’m suspect that, in the fullness of time, the cancellers — despite their current privileged status and power — will not be remembered fondly. Rather, as zealots drunk on power and privilege.
Jeff
Not only do you hit the nail on the head; you hit it squarely on the crown of the head! It is indeed a violent religion that cares nothing for fairness and justice, supported by cowards. I suspect they are already held in contempt by many people, if there are any decent people left. They make it hard to be a feminist anymore.
Colin,
I am reading your wonderful book “the Making of a Philosopher”. .I’m coming to the end of the book your sun is shining but mosquitos lurk.
But the mosquitos swarmed and have been biting now for 10 years. It is time to swat them.
You mention Hume in your Magnificent Ten philosophers. He is now being cancelled in his native Scotland all because of a slender connection to a slave owner.
Edinburgh University has renamed the Hume tower ( he won’t be too upset -it was a ghastly modern monstrosity)
Day follows night -but does day cause night? They can’t cancel Hume’s brilliance. Or all of that testimony to his warmth of character.
You will emerge into daylight soon.
Perhaps a Blue Morphio butterfly.
It is really incredible how idiotic people are when in the grip of an ideology. I’m glad to be lumped in with Hume. I wonder how many people have not read my book because of the character assassination that has gone on.
Hi Collin,
I’m just a Portuguese fan ;).
Life is full of injustices… Peaks and valleys. Soon you’ll be at another peak again.
People don’t stop reading your books when you are in a deep valley ;).
Anyway, the book “The Human Stain”, by Philip Roth, seems to me based on your cancellation story. Have you ever read it?
Regards, from Lisbon, Happy New Year!
SI
Thank you for your concern. Yes, I have read The Human Stain, which is an excellent novel.
I ended up here following on some ideas of yours that I found intriguing, so a fan of your work. However, this seems a very weak argument for someone like you. Simply, the claim is that there can be no reason to expel someone from the profession, because that reduces the amount of philosophy available, assuming that they are actually producing useful philosophy. You certainly do not believe this. What about a professor who murdered students who didn’t show intellectual promise? Would it be correct to expel them? Must it be weighed against the value of their philosophy some how? There must be some boundary beyond which cancellation is appropriate, your only meaningful argument can be about where the line should be. I make no claims about your particular situation and am not personally invested in any particular boundary, just think you could make a better argument.
You are overstating the argument: it is simply that there can be considerable loss in cancelling people, so there should be an effort to minimize that loss. If the case against them is dubious or minor, people should try to mitigate the loss. The principle is the same for criminals: by all means put them in prison for serious crimes, but weigh the cost. If you know someone will cure cancer, don’t prevent them from doing so simply because they were caught driving drunk. The argument is straight utilitarianism and not weak at all. In actual cases, people completely ignore the loss in their zeal to punish.