Tag: philosophy

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Seeking Wisdom in the Trump-Storm

It is easy to become anxious as political chaos churns. The present turmoil can cause us to lose sight of basic truths. But enduring values provide shelter from the storm.

The pursuit of wisdom offers tranquility in tumultuous times. Philosophy and religion are essential these days. Solace can be found in a wide variety of what I call (allong with my co-author Doug Soccio), “Archetypes of Wisdom.”

One useful source is Stoicism. Seneca explains: “It is only philosophy that makes the mind invincible, and places us out of the reach of fortune… This it is that reclaims the rage of our lusts, and sweetens the anxiety of our fears.”

The present moment is a time of misfortune, rage, and anxiety. Headlines blare with crises and scandals. Constitutional guardrails are breached, as a servile Congress plays patty-cake with its rubber stamps. Bizarre ideas are broadcast from the White House. Every day brings some new outrage.

The chaos of the present appears to be strategic. Trumpism has been described by The Guardian as a “chaos machine.” The chaotic strategy was explained by Steve Bannon as “flooding the zone with shit.” Bannon more recently said that every day of the new Trump regime should be a “day of thunder.” Keeping people in a defensive and reactive posture prevents organized response.

Anxiety is an impediment to wisdom. Careful, deliberate thought supplies a source of calm in the blizzard of bullshit. For some it may help to have the anchor of faith. But nonreligious people can find serenity in philosophy, even as the tempest rages.

Pope Francis offered a recent bit of serene sagacity. In a letter to American bishops he repudiates a narrow and mean-spirited approach to immigration. Francis insists that the essence of Christianity is universal love: “Jesus Christ, loving everyone with a universal love, educates us in the permanent recognition of the dignity of every human being, without exception.”

The Pope appears to be replying to Vice President J.D. Vance’s defense of Trumpian deportations. Vance had invoked the Catholic concept of ordo amoris (the ordering of love) to defend his “America First” ideology. Vance explained, “You love your family and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country, and then after that, you can focus [on] and prioritize the rest of the world.”

The Pope rebutted Vance, explaining, “Christian love is not a concentric expansion of interests that little by little extend to other persons and groups… The true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating constantly on the parable of the “Good Samaritan” (cf. Lk 10:25-37), that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”

Much more could be said about Christian love and the parable of the Good Samaritan (I’ve discussed some of this here and here). But what I want to emphasize is the temperate, transcendental tone of the Pope’s remarks—and the importance of this philosophical debate about love and dignity.

Philosophy and religion look beyond the squabbles of the present moment. In speaking of the “infinite and transcendent dignity” of the human person, the Pope invokes a set of values that rises above the petty disputes of the day. The Pope’s cosmopolitan ethic transcends national borders and political parties. His focus is on fundamental claims about universal human rights.

Pope Francis also rebukes political power. In his letter, he says, “What is built on the basis of force, and not on the truth about the equal dignity of every human being, begins badly and will end badly.” He explains that it is a distortion of genuine social life to focus on “the will of the strongest as the criterion of truth.”

These ideas are not unique to Francis or Catholicism. Plato also rejected the idea that power was the criterion of truth and justice. And the call for love of the neighbor and respect for human dignity can be found in other religious traditions, and in the secular notion of human rights. Eleanor Roosevelt tied these ideas together, saying, “We can establish no real trust between nations until we acknowledge the power of love above all other power.”

Let’s conclude with a call to seek insight in religion, philosophy, and the great archetypes of wisdom. The antidote to chaos is wisdom that transcends the moment. When the zone is flooded with shit, we rise above by remembering that true and good things endure. We should love our neighbors and strive to be just. The bullshit of the powerful, and the thunder of the loudmouths can be overwhelming. But when the storm is over, wisdom, truth, and justice will remain.

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Critical emotional education: the power of words, language, and thought

Fresno Bee, April 7, 2024

People often respond to ethically charged issues with strong emotions. Anger, indignation, and disgust are a normal part of the moral life. If we didn’t have these negative emotions, we would not be motivated to fight for justice. And if we didn’t have strong positive emotions, we would never fall in love.

Some philosophers think that morality is purely a matter of emotion. But feelings alone are an insufficient guide for moral judgment. We need words, ideas and theories to correct, improve, and evaluate our emotions.

In my teaching and public speaking, I often encounter folks who are overcome with emotion. Recently I was discussing the ethics of war with students. One brave young woman raised her hand and offered a comment on current events. Her emotions were so strong that it was difficult for her to speak.

I gave her time to compose herself and I acknowledged the depth of her passion. She took a deep breath and did her best to talk through her tears. But it was tough. Others in the audience were visibly moved by her effort. Emotions are contagious. We weep when others weep. We laugh when others laugh. We are social animals who communicate with tears as well as words.

After we all caught our breath, I tried to help this young woman articulate the source of her indignation. I encouraged her to consider some of the concepts and ideas from the just-war theory. I don’t know if this ultimately helped. But one of the goals of ethics education is to provide people with a moral vocabulary that helps them understand and evaluate the world and their emotional responses to it.

Indeed, one of the benefits of a broad education is that it helps us learn to describe and assess our emotions. Education teaches us to put words to our feelings. That process of recognizing and naming our emotions can help to moderate and direct them in appropriate ways. A critical moral education helps us transform our passions into coherent sentences and complex judgments. In doing that, we gain the ability to think critically about our feelings and about our responses to the world.

I worry that this kind of critical emotional education is missing in our expressivist culture. Rage and disgust, giddiness and glee drive much of our public discourse. We emote and enthuse without restraint. People whoop and holler at sporting events. They yell and yowl in public meetings. And on social media, emotional complexity is reduced to simplistic emojis requiring no thought at all. But to be fully human, we must move from passion to poetry, from feelings to phrases, and from simple words to complex thoughts and theories.

Language is a unique human capacity. Dogs growl and bark, howl or wag their tails. Those sounds and gestures are expressive. But they only convey a limited range of emotions and experiences. The great gift of human language is that it allows us to clarify, restrain and articulate our emotions. It also allows us to evaluate complex ideas and to communicate the dense and thorny knots of human experience.

Human beings have the capacity to experience and express a large variety of emotions and ideas because we have a complex system of language and meaning. Poetry, music, and religion move us in ways that transcend mere animal behavior. The experience of art takes us quite far beyond the animal’s howl. The arguments of lawyers and theologians allow us to develop complex systems of social life. And scientific theories are infinitely more complex than the dog’s wagging tail.

Words are tools. The more tools we have, the better. If your tool kit only includes a hammer and a screwdriver, you’re not going to be able to build many things. But if your tool kit is broad, diverse, and subtle, you are on your way to creating new and amazing things.

A broad education provides us more words and more tools. This includes a whole range of metaphors, idioms, and paradigms that come from art, history, literature, philosophy, and religion. This linguistic tool kit provides us with the opportunity to clarify, and refine our emotional lives. It also helps us articulate and evaluate things in a way that transcends laughter and tears.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/article287422570.html#storylink=cpy

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/article287422570.html#storylink=cpy

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The Power of Thought and the Wonder of Nature

Fresno Bee, April 14, 2024

Far from being fearful, the total eclipse inspires wonder, awe and humility

Last week’s solar eclipse shows us how far we have come in our understanding of nature. We now predict eclipses with precision. The calculations of modern astronomy are obviously superior to primitive superstitions that saw eclipses as omens or as the work of gods and demons.

Western philosophy and science are often traced back to the ancient sage Thales of Miletus, who was famous for predicting an eclipse in May 585 BCE. Some say that Thales was the first ancient star-gazer to correctly predict an eclipse. I doubt that. Ancient cultures carefully observed the sky. Thales likely learned astronomy from the Egyptians. Nonetheless, the ability to predict an eclipse was a sign of wisdom.

As the saying goes, “knowledge is power.” Understanding the causal story behind an event provides us with power. Broad understanding of nature creates a kind of mastery. And knowledge alleviates the anxiety of the unknown and uncanny. Knowing why things happen makes them less spooky. It also allows us to take action to avoid harm, generate benefits and gain control. This is the promise of science, mathematics and natural philosophy.

Despite this promise, it took centuries of cultural struggle for the scientific method to prevail. Religious institutions often resisted that change. The most famous case is the Inquisition of Galileo, which began on April 12, 1633.

Galileo defended the idea that the Earth moved around the sun — the heliocentric model of the universe. He based this on the astronomical calculations of Copernicus and his own observations of the heavens through telescopic lenses. But the religious dogma of the day held that the Earth was the center of the universe and that the other celestial bodies moved around our fixed world.

Galileo challenged that idea. But he was not an atheist. He thought that science helped elucidate the divine order of things. His scientific observations were meant to read the book of nature as a supplement to the holy book of Christianity. But Galileo’s heliocentric model called some of the Bible into question. Galileo lost his struggle with the church. He was forced to recant.

It took centuries of further development to come up with the present model of the cosmos. Today we know much more about our place in the universe. We know that our sun is one star among the billions in the Milky Way and that our galaxy is one among billions of galaxies. We also know that there are other planets orbiting distant stars. It is likely that eclipses happen on other planets as well, since there are other moons orbiting other planets, even in our own solar system.

And yet, there is something special about an eclipse as it occurs on Earth, since there is a kind of symmetry between the apparent size of the moon and the sun. If the moon were smaller or were farther away, there would be no such thing as a total eclipse. Nor would there be a total eclipse if the sun were larger.

Scientists predict that at some point the sun will grow larger and the moon will move farther away from the Earth. This means that at some point in the distant future, there will no longer be total eclipses on Earth.

That fact should inspire wonder, awe and humility. We are fortunate to live here now. On this planet at this time, our satellite and sun work together in a special way. Even if there are other planets out there with other moons, and other forms of intelligent life, total eclipses may be rare.

It is important to dwell in this kind of wonder and awe. Scientific knowledge shows us how privileged we are to be here, now. It reminds us how fragile our existence is. From this we might develop a kind of humility and insight.

Thales seemed to possess that kind of wisdom. He celebrated the unique beauty of the universe as a divine gift. He said that the mind is swift and powerful, since it is able to expand everywhere. And he claimed that time is the source of wisdom, since it brings everything to light. There are moments of darkness. But if we are patient, persistent and wise, the light may dawn.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article287610835.html#storylink=cpy

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The Wisdom of Secular Education

School of Athens

Right-wing commentator Dennis Prager said at a recent “Moms for Liberty” conference: “There is no such thing as a secular institution with wisdom… That is why the stupidest institutions are the most secular: the universities.”

He’s wrong. The wisdom of secular universities is found in their reluctance to teach wisdom. That may sound like a paradox. But it is an approach to teaching that is as old as Socrates.

I am a professor of philosophy—a “lover of wisdom.” But I don’t teach wisdom. I think that what I teach may help students develop wisdom. But I would never presume to teach wisdom. I can teach about the world’s wisdom traditions. But I do not have the right to teach wisdom in my role as a secular professor.

Prager’s critique of secular education

Prager is a frequent critic of secularism, and of public education. He is not happy with what secular schools teach about racism, gender, and religion. Prager wrote, in a column in July 2022: “When America was more religious, wisdom was taught to young people. This is another reason to fear a thoroughly secularized America—we are producing a nation of fools. The proof lies in our universities. The most secularized institution in America is the most foolish institution in America.”

Really? American universities lead the world in research and creativity. People come here to study from across the globe. American universities are not stupid or foolish.

But Prager is right that secular universities do not teach wisdom, in his sense. He thinks that wisdom implies the specific content of the Judeo-Christian tradition.

But it is not the job of a secular university to instill the values of a specific religious tradition. This does not make universities foolish or stupid. Rather, secular universities refrain from teaching wisdom because in a diverse society grounded on liberty, we leave wisdom to the private sphere. If you want wisdom, go to a church or temple. But if you want knowledge, go to a secular school.

Secular universities should be neutral, inclusive, and pluralistic. They ought to disseminate knowledge, without staking a claim about wisdom. They ought to train students in the art of sifting and winnowing. They should teach skills in scientific method, critical thinking, and hermeneutics. But knowledge and critical thinking skills do not produce wisdom.

Wisdom vs. knowledge

Wisdom is about meaning, value, and purpose. It is a matter of the soul, the conscience, and our fundamental beliefs. Universities can and should include courses that teach about the varieties of opinion about wisdom and the meaning of life. But no secular university professor should presume to grade and evaluate students based upon the condition of their soul. That would be obnoxious, and it would violate the spirit of open inquiry that is essential to the secular pursuit of knowledge.

The pursuit of wisdom is different from the pursuit of knowledge. In religious traditions, teachers of wisdom provide definitive answers about meaning, value, and purpose. The teachers of religious wisdom aim to transform the souls of their disciples. They inspire, admonish, and guide their pupils toward a vision of the good life.

This is not what university professors should be doing. University professors teach knowledge, and methods for discovering it. But they should avoid any attempt to peer into the soul of a student. They may inspire students to seek knowledge. But they should not pick sides in cultural, religious, or spiritual struggles.

The pursuit of knowledge is, of course, part of wisdom. Wisdom requires knowledge. Ignorant and stupid people are not wise. But wisdom is not simply the accumulation of knowledge. And there are knowledgeable people who lack wisdom. Wisdom is a virtue or character trait. It is more a way of being than a pile of facts.

Wisdom involves judgement, discernment, and a sense of justice. Wisdom is about what we do with our knowledge, how we apply it to solve problems, and how we construct a life of meaning and value.

The Socratic model

An important model for the contemporary secular approach is Socrates. Socrates never claimed to be wise. He was a questioner, and a gadfly. He did not pontificate about the meaning of life, apart from suggesting that to be fully human is to think. This what he meant when he said, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” Socratic wisdom is a lifelong commitment to the ongoing labor of thinking. But this is an open-ended kind of wisdom that avoids picking sides in cultural or religious squabbles.

And now, finally, let’s return to Prager’s contention that when America was more religious, wisdom was taught to young people. He’s probably right. In a homogeneous world young people are often trained to conform and identify with a specific answer to life’s questions. Some may call that training wisdom. But it is narrow and limiting.

Such a narrow training in wisdom is not appropriate for a world that values liberty, free inquiry, and diversity. For that world—our world—we need a secular, Socratic approach. The secular approach is oriented around the Socratic “love of wisdom,” and a process of arguing and inquiring that is open-ended. Secular universities do not teach wisdom. Rather, they teach us how to decide for ourselves what is wise.

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Finding Hope Beyond the Political

Or Why We Need Philosophy, Religion, and Art

Political life is limited and ultimately unsatisfying.  When we focus on the external and horizontal dimension of political life, we are bound to be frustrated.  But there are other dimensions and sources of meaning, beyond the political.

The despair of the political

The world is unjust.  Good people often suffer in misery and obscurity.  And bad folks become rich and powerful.  The social and political world is messy and frustrating.  Our imagined ideals fail to become real.  And although progress can be made, there is backlash and unfulfilled expectations. 

We inherit a broken world that conflicts with our idealism.  The dream of justice runs aground on the shards of these fragments.  The more we want to repair these ruins, the more hopeless things appear.  We also disagree about who ruined this world, why it is broken, and how it ought to be fixed. 

This sense of grievance and longing explains why the passion of the political can become shrill, dogmatic, and polarizing.  Political intensity feeds off dissatisfaction.  And when these deep emotions are frustrated long enough, there is the risk of despair.  The passion of the political dwells in the thought that if these ruins cannot be repaired, all is lost. 

Clinging to hope

To fight the despair that haunts politics, political rhetoric is often infused with what Barack Obama called “the audacity of hope.”  The best and most inspiring political speech reminds us of an imagined future in which the ideal will be actualized.

Martin Luther King, Jr. provides a well-known example.  He was aware of the problem of political despair.  In response to the disappointments of the civil rights movement, King said, , “The only healthy answer lies in one’s honest recognition of disappointment even as he still clings to hope, one’s acceptance of finite disappointment even while clinging to infinite hope.”  And: “Our most fruitful course is to stand firm, move forward nonviolently, accept disappointments and cling to hope.”

King warned that disappointment in the face of injustice can lead to bitterness, self-pity, cynicism, nihilism, and other “poisons” of the soul.  His remedy was to “cling to hope.”  This phrase is interesting.  To cling is to hold on, to try to remain committed, even as the storm rages.

Thinking in more than one dimension

As a Christian, King found a source of hope beyond the storm.  King’s hope was oriented toward another dimension, a source of meaning that exists in a realm beyond the political.  This is what Rev. Jeremiah Wright (who inspired Obama’s idea of the audacity of hope) called “the vertical dimension.”

Politics is one dimensional.  It views the self and the other on a merely horizontal dimension, failing to take into account other dimensions of life and experience.   This is bound to be dissatisfying because human beings live in more than one dimension. 

The vertical dimension is often understood in religious terms, as an axis oriented toward the divine.  But secular folks can also discover an inner dimension connected with love, beauty, or other sources of meaning found in the human experience.  The most important of these non-political axes are called art, religion, and philosophy (borrowing a set of concepts from Hegel). 

Now there is a tendency among some thoroughly political (or politicized) folks to reduce art, religion, and philosophy to politics.  Marxists explain the “ideological” in terms of material and economic conditions.  Feminists and race-conscious theorists also sometimes interpret art, religion, and philosophy from a liberatory framework.  Conservatives do this as well, when they think that art, religion, and philosophy ought to support some preferred nationalistic ideal. 

But the wonder of art, religion, and philosophy is that they burst the bounds of any politicized and reductive account of human reality.  The artist, the mystic, and the sage exist in a different dimension, oriented toward values and ideas that are not reducible to questions of justice or power. 

The example of comedy and tragedy

This may sound abstract.  So let’s consider two familiar artforms: the comedic and the tragic.  Comedy can be political.  It can be used both to liberate and to oppress.  But sometimes the comedic reveals the absurdity of existence.  And laughter can be an end-in-itself. 

Tragedy can also be employed for political purposes: to tell a story about oppression or the “triumph of the will.”  But tragedy also transcends the political.  It makes us shudder to wonder about death, evil, pride, murder, and betrayal.  Sophocles has the chorus say in Antigone (line 332): There are terrors and wonders on earth, and none is more terrible or wonderful than we humans. 

When a comedic artist reveals absurdity, we are directed beyond the political dimension toward broader reflection on the human condition.  When we laugh, and play along, we are engaged in a world of imagination, on a dimension apart from the political. The same is true, when we are moved by tragedy to see the terror and the wonder of human existence.  This act of imagination gives us a glimpse of a dimension of experience that is beyond the political. 

This act of imagination can be a source of hope, repair, and reconciliation.  It can also renew the spirit and gives us the energy to return to our struggles with better perspective, and a clearer sense of self. 

Hope beyond politics

Now a critic may suggest that this experience of transcendence comes from a position of “privilege” that is conveniently able to ignore the challenges of political reality.  But the move beyond the political is not an excuse for political indifference.  We are political animals, as Aristotle said.  And we cannot simply ignore injustice and the struggles of political life. 

But we all possess the power of human imagination.  And we can all find consolation and hope when we open our minds to those other dimensions of human experience that transcend the political.