Political Philosophy

Political Philosophy

Politics is largely philosophical, but is philosophy largely political?[1] Is the practice of philosophy governed partly (mainly?) by political forces? Most people would agree that science and mathematics are not seriously political subjects, being governed by scientific norms, but is philosophy as a discipline strongly influenced by political considerations? Is it more political than, say, biology and psychology, or economics and anthropology? This is not a pleasant thought; it undermines the objectivity of the subject. Political forces are not always rational or impartial or creditable. They are all too human. I will explore this question, adopting a lofty perspective and some poetic license.

We can observe right away that both philosophy and politics deal with difficult problems for the solution of which there is no standard rigorous method. We can’t use mathematics and empirical observation to solve these problems; measurement and calculation are no help. In this sense, they are not scientific. There is no physics of philosophy or politics—no mechanics. Nor is there a chemistry of these subjects. What the correct method is no one can confidently say; there is no consensus on this. One might suggest that philosophy employs conceptual analysis while politics employs social analysis; not far off, but not exactly pellucid. What is clear is that the two subjects engage in a lot of discussion, argument, rhetoric, persuasion, and browbeating; not so much, discoveries and data. Verbal dexterity is much in evidence and greatly prized. You need the gift of the gab or some equivalent (impressive eloquence will do nicely). Talk is of the essence. And this can cover a multitude of sins–tendentious speechifying, irresponsible rabble-rousing, sheer bullshitting. There is a large amount of criticizing of others, not always scrupulously fair criticizing. The ad hominem style is widely practiced. Wit can be used as a sharp weapon—the cutting remark, the merciless evisceration. Intellectual integrity is a value not always adhered to. Participants don’t just roll out hard facts and then proceed to suggest cogent solutions to pressing problems to everyone’s satisfaction. Sometimes things get heated and occasionally nasty. Thus it is in philosophy and politics; both are arts of the adversarial. Cults thrive and heroes are anointed, fashions come and go, there are victories and losses. It isn’t all steady progress and warm fellow-feeling—not by a long chalk.

But what about the content of philosophy—is it anything like political content? Are there analogues in philosophy of political categories and positions? Here is where the fun starts, because there are striking parallels between the two domains, if you are willing to use your imagination—homologues, we might say. Don’t Plato’s Forms look an awful lot like his Guardians—superior beings, rarified, sublime, pure, perfect, incorruptible? Isn’t Plato’s cave reminiscent of a dismal hovel occupied by deprived peasants and slaves, deceived about their station in life? Aren’t Plato’s crowds of particulars like citizens of a democracy, rather sordid little beings, imperfect soiled things, far from ideal, not to be counted on to achieve the Good?  Plato depicts an ontological hierarchy with impeccable rulers at the top and a compromised proletariat swirling beneath them. Ontology recapitulates polity. Metaphysical monism resembles monarchy: only one thing governs the operations of the universe—be it God, matter, or mind. All power is concentrated into one entity. Pluralism by contrast resembles political anarchism—a bunch of separate autonomous units doing their own thing. It is a kind of hippy ontology, or distinct warring warlords. Then we have dualism, suggesting two great powers locked in mortal combat, or pleasantly at peace with each other (despite the tenuousness of the pineal gland). Isn’t the divide between analytical philosophers and Continental philosophers redolent of the divide between political technocrats and spiritualistic humanists? Is it all about the right economic numbers or should we be focused on the immortal souls of the populace? Then we have traditionalists and progressives: those who think we should cleave to the philosophy of the past and those who seek a brand-new revolutionary philosophy. Logical positivism was a shockingly radical revolutionary philosophy, setting itself against an antiquated dead-end philosophy—or it advertised itself that way. Ordinary language philosophy mirrors political movements that elevate the working man and his practical workmanlike ways. Common sense is what the common people have. Pragmatism is a philosophy of action not contemplation, the kind of thing the regular guy gets up to as he makes and mends. Feminism is a nakedly political philosophy, expressly designed to advance the cause of women. Western philosophy was created by privileged white males (some of whom had slaves!). Philosophy is as political as the society that surrounds it.

At a more general level, we have philosophical and political extremism, exaggeration, dogmatism, optimism and pessimism, highs and lows, coups and counterrevolutions, fads and fashions, depression and inspiration, virtues and vices. We get different meta-philosophies and different theories of society (meta-politics), according to taste and wider intellectual developments, e.g., theories in biology. Darwin has his influence on both. Materialism in philosophy and politics march together, encouraged by the success of physics. Above all, the difficulty of both subjects will always shape their form: both struggle against the odds, grappling with mystery and methodological uncertainty. They each have their intractable problems, the problems that never seem to go away. In the case of philosophy, the current uncrackable problem is consciousness; in the case of politics, it is…what? You might say the problem of political freedom—how much freedom should people be given by the state? That is certainly a big issue, because we need people to be able to live harmoniously together at close quarters; but probably the biggest problem is an old one—from whence does political authority derive? What grounds it? The difficulty is that nothing seems up to the task—not a monarch, not the population in toto, not an elite class of experts. Yet someone has to have it, and for some good reason. How does it emerge and from what? Is it essentially arbitrary? Philosophy is like politics in that both tackle imponderable questions, lack well-delineated methods, and deal in deep humanly interesting issues. Philosophy is a kind of conceptual politics.[2]

[1] Political philosophy is a branch of philosophy, and not the most central branch; but if philosophy is inescapably political, perhaps it should be. Meta-philosophically, political philosophy is basic to philosophy in general.

[2] Not only that, to be sure, but to some incalculable degree—not everything in philosophy is a deep mystery. But politics too is not entirely riddled with profound difficulty, because it must also deal with concrete practical problems (e.g., rules of the road). I find it interesting that consensus plays the role in philosophy that voting does in politics; it substitutes for proof of correctness. The winner is the most popular not the most veracious.