Values and Powers: Re-Reading the Philosophical Tradition of American Pragmatism 9042027452, 9789042027459

Table of contents :
Contents
Acknowledgements
Preface
Introduction: Values and Powers in a Philosophical Context
Part One: Proto-Pragmatic Approach to Values and Powers
1 A Prelude to American Pragmatism. Transcendentalism as “The Power of Thought and of Will”
2 Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism and the Revaluation of Thinking on Values and Powers
Part Two: Pragmatic Approach to Values and Powers
3 The Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics. The Powers of Men in William James
4 Loyalty to a Worthy Cause and Provincialism as “Saving Power” in Josiah Royce
5 John Dewey and the Might of Democratic Values
6 Democracy and Exclusion in Pragmatic Aesthetics (Dewey, Shusterman, Margolis)
7 Evaluative Character of Social Interactions in George Herbert Mead
8 Richard Rorty’s Liberal Democracy and the Limits of Cultural Imperialism
Part Three: Quasi-Pragmatic Approach to Values and Powers
9 Powers and Perfections in George Santayana’s Abulensean Pragmatism
Final Remarks
Bibliography
About the Author
Index

Citation preview

VALUES AND POWERS

VIBS Volume 213 Robert Ginsberg Founding Editor Leonidas Donskis Executive Editor Associate Editors G. John M. Abbarno George Allan Gerhold K. Becker Raymond Angelo Belliotti Kenneth A. Bryson C. Stephen Byrum Robert A. Delfino Rem B. Edwards Malcolm D. Evans Daniel B. Gallagher Roland Faber Andrew Fitz-Gibbon Francesc Forn i Argimon William Gay Dane R. Gordon J. Everet Green Heta Aleksandra Gylling Matti Häyry

Brian G. Henning Steven V. Hicks Richard T. Hull Michael Krausz Olli Loukola Mark Letteri Vincent L. Luizzi Adrianne McEvoy Peter A. Redpath Arleen L. F. Salles John R. Shook Eddy Souffrant Tuija Takala Emil Višňovský Anne Waters James R. Watson John R. Welch Thomas Woods

a volume in Central European Value Studies CEVS Emil Višňovský, Editor

VALUES AND POWERS Re-reading the Philosophical Tradition of American Pragmatism

Krzysztof Piotr Skowroński

Amsterdam - New York, NY 2009

Cover photo: (© Flickr) Cover Design: Studio Pollmann The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of “ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents Requirements for permanence”. ISBN: 978-90-420-2745-9 E-Book ISBN: 978-90-420-2746-6 © Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - New York, NY 2009 Printed in the Netherlands

The world is full of conscript minds only they are in different armies, and nobody is fighting to be free, but each to make his own conscription universal. Santayana, 1935/1994, p. 553.

CONTENTS ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS PREFACE INTRODUCTION: Values and Powers in a Philosophical Context 1. Why Re-reading? 2. Why American Pragmatism? 3. Why Philosophical Tradition? 4. Value Inquiries as the Starting Point 5. What Are Values and Powers in the Present Work? 6. The Significance of Values-Powers Relation. Accumulation of Values 7. Values and Powers in the History of Western Philosophy 8. Specificity of American Pragmatism in the Context of Values and Powers

ONE 1. 2. 3. 4. TWO 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

PART ONE Proto-Pragmatic Approach to Values and Powers A Prelude to American Pragmatism. Transcendentalism as “The Power of Thought and of Will” Emerson’s Proto-Pragmatism in the Context of Values and Powers Emerson: “All mental and moral force is a positive good” Great Men as Humans of Power and Worth “The individual as a higher and independent power” in Thoreau Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism and the Revaluation of Thinking on Values and Powers Peirce’s Scholastic Ontology and Philosophy of Values Praxis vs. Theoria Social vs. Individual Signs and the Indirect Cognition of Values Are Values Cumulative? Peirce’s Ethnocentrism?

xi xiii 1 2 4 8 9 13 15 19 23

27 27 29 34 37

39 39 45 47 50 52 54

PART TWO Pragmatic Approach to Values and Powers THREE The Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics. The Powers of Men in William James 1. Values and Powers in James’ Metaphysics 2. Values and Powers in Men 3. Powers Best for the Accumulation of Values

59 59 61 65

viii

CONTENTS

4.

Powers Best to Decide on What Should Be Ameliorated 5. Powers Best to Decide Who Should Decide 6. Powers Best to Practice Pacifism FOUR Loyalty to a Worthy Cause and Provincialism as “Saving Power” in Josiah Royce 1. Absolute Pragmatism and Pragmatism in the Context of Values and Powers 2. Axiological Dimensions of Loyalty 3. Axiology of Powers 4. Provincialism as “Saving Power” FIVE 1. 2. 3. 4.

John Dewey and the Might of Democratic Values Some Reflections on Dewey’s Theory of Valuation Dewey’s Axiological Objective Relationism Is Democracy Necessarily Exclusive? Education as Development of “Social Power”

71 74 78

81 81 84 88 90 95 96 101 104 109

SIX Democracy and Exclusion in Pragmatic Aesthetics (Dewey, Shusterman, Margolis) 1. Democracy and Exclusion in Dewey’s Aesthetics 2. Freedom as Creation of Values 3. Democracy and Exclusion in Richard Shusterman’s Somaesthetics 4. Joseph Margolis and Work of Art as a “Seat” of Values and Powers

131

SEVEN Evaluative Character of Social Interactions in George Herbert Mead 1. Evaluative Character of Acts and Gestures 2. Evaluative Character of Meaning 3. Conflict and Influence in the Context of Social Progress

137 138 143 145

EIGHT Richard Rorty’s Liberal Democracy and the Limits of Cultural Imperialism 1. Liberal Values and Democratic Powers 2. Can Liberal Democracy Become Cultural Imperialism? 3. Solidarity of Who with Whom? Beyond Cultural Imperialism

151 152 157 161

117 117 122 124

CONTENTS

NINE 1. 2. 3. 4.

PART THREE Quasi-Pragmatic Approach to Values and Powers Powers and Perfections in George Santayana’s Abulensean Pragmatism Powers in Aiming at Perfection Santayana vs. Dewey on Values and Powers Ontological Aspects of the Literary Work of Art in Santayana Human and non-Human Virtues as Values Realized by Powers

Final Remarks Bibliography About the Author Index

ix

167 168 169 172 183 185 187 197 199

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank all of the participants at the American and European Values international conferences, held annually at the Department of Philosophy of Opole University, Poland, for the stimulating discussions that encouraged me to write this book. I owe special thanks to my fellow organizers: John Lachs of Vanderbilt University; Angus Kerr-Lawson of the University of Waterloo; Nathan Houser, Director of the Institute of American Thought and Director of the Charles S. Peirce Edition Project at Indiana University-Purdue University; Kelly Parker, the President of the Josiah Royce Society and Chair of Philosophy Department at Grand Valley State University; Larry Hickman, Director of the John Dewey Center at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale; Krystyna Wilkoszewska, Director of the John Dewey Research Center at Jagiellonian University; and Jason Bell of Vanderbilt University. Simultaneously, I extend my gratitude to a group of scholars whom I have collaborated with on different projects, for pushing me to better articulate my ideas while also providing opportunities for me to present my research internationally. It has been a privilege to work with: Richard Shusterman of Florida Atlantic University; Helmut Pape of the University in Bamberg; Ivo Ibri, Director of the Post-graduate Center at the Pontifical Catholic University in Sao Paolo; David Dilworth of the State University of New York at Stony Brook; José Beltrán Llavador of the University of Valencia; Daniel Moreno Moreno of IES in Zaragoza; Ángel Faerna García-Bermejo of the University de CastillaLa Mancha, Toledo; Ramón del Castillo Santos of UNED (Universidad Nacional de Educación a Distancia), Madrid; Antonio Lastra Meliá, Editor in Chief of La Torre del Virrey, Valencia; Matthew Caleb Flamm of Rockford College; Cornelis de Waal of the Peirce Edition Project at Indiana UniversityPurdue University; Martin Coleman of the Santayana Edition at Indiana University-Purdue University; Sergio Franzese of the University of Lecce; and Lenka Krejsova of Presov University. Two people deserve special recognition for helping to prepare this text for publication: David Wallis (Cambridge, England); and Laura Nice (Chico, California). My colleagues and the Directors of the Institute of Philosophy at Opole University have made it possible for me to complete this project in the best               

Adam Grobler. Last but not least, I benefited from the assistance of the Rectors   !  "   # $    %   #& ! 

with a habilitation stipend. Also, I thank Ela for understanding. Some parts of the present book have already been published, with minor modifications. For permission to reproduce material I wish to acknowledge the English and Spanish versions of www.hiperlimbo.com for the article “Onto-

xii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

logical Aspects of the Literary Work of Art in Santayana. An Introductory Outline” (“Aspectos ontológicos de la obra de arte literaria en Santayana. Un bosquejo indroductiorio,” Limbo. Boletin de estudios internacionales sobre Santayana 28 (2008), pp. 137-158). I also acknowledge Studia Aesthetica for permission to publish the article “The Aesthetics of American Pragmatism and the Contemporary Debate on the Problem of Values,” Studia Aesthetica X (2008), pp. 322-340. I also thank La Torre del Virrey. Revista de estudios culturales (Antonio Lastra) for permission to reproduce the material in my reviews of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Society and Solitude and James O. Pawelski’s The Dynamic Individualism of William James, both published in Spanish in: http://www.latorredelvirrey.es/libros/index.php.

PREFACE In the present book, I propose a re-reading of the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism, including the transcendentalism of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, the pragmaticism of Charles Sanders Peirce, the pragmatic absolutism of Josiah Royce, the pragmatism of William James, the instrumentalism of John Dewey, the social pragmatism of George Herbert Mead, the neopragmatism of Richard Rorty and Richard Shusterman, and the pragmatic aesthetics of Joseph Margolis. In re-reading this tradition, I hope to see how much and in what sense values are related to powers and powers are related to values. I would like to make it quite plain at the beginning that I do not suggest that American pragmatists call for any type of aggression, brute force, war, or inciting social conflicts. The anthropocentric, democratic, moralistic, melioristic, and pro-social character of American pragmatism rejects this from the outset. Instead, I am interested in what American pragmatists think of different types of pressure, coercion, influence, domination, and control, which are imposed (intentionally or not, and directly or indirectly) by some agents upon others, and how this makes it necessary for others to revise their understanding of values and powers, and vice versa. I detect how the exercising of powers upon others can be stimulated, regulated, and limited because of the reference to values. More explanation of the topic of the present book can be found in the Introduction, which also discusses key notions and justifies the attempt to reread the philosophy of American pragmatism by stating, amongst other things, that each generation has a right to study and interpret the traditions of its forefathers in order to see whether they can usefully cope with new challenges. At the same time, the stress that pragmatists place upon this relation makes it possible for me to claim that such a reference to values and powers is constitutive for the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. From a methodological point of view, a re-reading of the philosophy of American pragmatism is risky, because the representatives of this movement have not constructed a theory of the relation between values and powers, and the proposed approach would have appeared odd for them and, perhaps, for their followers and sympathizers. In addition to this, philosophers do not frequently or profoundly discuss the connection between values and powers. Although there have been, in the history of the Western thought, eminent representatives of different trends, who recognized this problem, and elevated it as a significant topic for philosophical debate. Amongst these were: the Sophists (Thrasymachus’ and Callicles’ ethics of the stronger), Thomas Hobbes (on the mechanisms of social conflicts in the context of good and evil), Karl Marx (on the conflict of the social classes), Frederick Nietzsche (on the axiological meaning of the will to might), Sigmund Freud (on the meaning of the internal conflicting forces in man), Michel Foucault (with the idea of bio-power), and others.

xiv

VALUES AND POWERS

My intention, while writing the book, was not merely to attract the attention of philosophers interested in American pragmatism, as the problem of values and powers needs re-thinking in a broader context. 9/11 offers a tragic illustration of the incompatibility of different systems of values and the ways that the clashing parties in the confrontation misused powers. Also, a growing concern exists in the West that ideas of tolerance, freedom, liberty, openness, and pluralism do not work in the practice of social life, unless we take for granted some basic assumptions or restrictions, which will make these notions quite limited in meaning. At this point, I can hardly avoid a short reflection about the disruptive role of some intellectuals in the terrible wars and other conflicts of the twentieth century. Perhaps my suggestion goes too far and is too biased by local affairs, but I think that the engagement of some scientists, intellectuals, and philosophers in the justification and support of the tyrannies, dictatorships, and the committed atrocities that they committed (whether during the Nazi period, during the Communist era, during the modern Balkan Wars, or during the present conflict between Western civilization and the Muslim world) has been so telling that we can claim more convincingly then ever before that intellectuals, scientists, and philosophers who come from different traditions and different cultural backgrounds are unable to speak with one voice about the values, hierarchies of values, valuations, and the criteria of the use of powers in troubled circumstances. This does not mean that scholars and philosophers should not try to set common aims, respect the standards of debate in which they take part, or initiate mutual efforts to re-think things in the most honest, profound, and engaged way possible. I hope that the present book will contribute to the discussion on values and powers in philosophy and outside of it. I also hope that the proposed re-reading will facilitate a better understanding of American pragmatism as a philosophical movement, and that pragmatism can become even stronger philosophically, richer internally, and more attractive externally, in the theoretical confrontations with other philosophical movements and trends. I do not suggest that pragmatism at the moment suffers from a crisis and needs any support. Instead, I believe that pragmatism, which has factually assumed a global meaning and international reputation, is being confronted and compared to other systems of philosophy and it would be profitable for pragmatists to propose new vistas and face new challenges that appear in the world. I think that the ability to constantly refresh and re-read a given system of thought demonstrates its strength, not its weakness. I dare to claim that the present book will also interest a broader audience than purely philosophical, and the area of American Studies should find this book insightful. At the time of the birth and growth of pragmatism, America was gaining its political, economic, cultural, philosophical, spiritual, and religious independence. It has become the global superpower that exports its thought, ideas, and values to different quarters. This is why, in order to better understand America, we should take a closer look at American pragmatism. We

Preface

xv

should also reflect upon American pragmatism in the light of its approach to values and powers, and the stress it puts upon the crucial role of both. I do not claim that pragmatism is a direct philosophical articulation of Americanism, although there exist thinkers (such as Bertrand Russell and George Santayana) who see pragmatism this way. I claim that since pragmatism is the most widely regarded, genuinely American philosophy, it would be advisable to examine pragmatism’s American background (constituted by such ideas as democracy, vitality, optimism, practical activity, and the moral melioration of the world) with a close reference to values and powers. I have divided the main substance of the book into three parts; the first part discusses transcendentalists and Peirce as proto-pragmatists who stimulated (as Emerson and Thoreau did) and initiated (as Peirce did) the tradition of American pragmatism, but who cannot be fully and unreservedly seen as pragmatists. This is due, in part, to their ontological assumptions and because they place less stress upon the significance of values and powers—if we look at their philosophical outputs more generally and whole embracingly—than the other representatives of the movement. For this reason, I classify Peirce, according to his preference, as pragmaticist, not as pragmatist, contrary to all those scholars who would like to see him as the founder of the pragmatism we know from James, Dewey, Mead, and Rorty. Chapter One takes a closer look at Emerson and Thoreau as forerunners of pragmatism, and focuses on the parts of their work that make strong reference to values and powers, preluding the philosophical message of James and Dewey. Chapter Two considers Peirce’s pragmaticism in the context of a revaluation of thinking of values and powers. I argue that Peirce had a sense of the important relationship between values and powers. He indicated their significant sources, and the ways of referring to them: by seeing them more in the area of social activity (less in the area of individual activity); by stressing the practical meaning of activity (not the speculative); and by reflecting on the ways that values are accumulated. Part two of the book, from chapter Three to Eight, presents the classic pragmatic approach to values and powers. Chapter Three deals with James’ idea of powers in men. James, along with Dewey and Mead, is the most decisive proponent of the connection of values and powers. He stresses that the quality and worth of life is inseparably linked with the amount of energy generated by humans and by human institutions in the realization of moral aims. Although his thought has a psychological and individualistic character, it definitely cannot be reduced to psychology, and I detect strong social aspects of his philosophy. Chapter Four focuses on Royce’s ideas of loyalty and provincialism in the context of values and powers, and claims that his pragmatism in these places (in his philosophy of loyalty and in his idea of provincialism) overshadows his idealism, so evident in other places of his philosophical output. I devote chapter Five to Dewey’s understanding of the might of democratic values, especially in the context of education. The next chapter discusses pragmatic aesthetics, and values and powers in the context of the arts, with

xvi

VALUES AND POWERS

reference to the works of Dewey, Shusterman, and Margolis. Chapter Seven deals with Mead’s social behaviorism and the role of powers and values in social interactions. Chapter Eight claims that Rorty, despite the specificity of his thought that has frequently earned him the title of neopragmatist, adheres to the pragmatic tradition by strongly linking powers and values. This can best be seen in his idea of “liberal democracy,” which I analyze in order to determine whether it can be seen as “cultural imperialism” and, if so, what are its limits. The final, third part of the book (chapter Nine) presents the reasons why George Santayana, from time to time included in the camp of pragmatists, does not belong there. I argue that in his significantly different attitude towards values and powers we can find values that are not instrumental and powers whose efficiency cannot be converted into the social progress and melioration of the world, as understood by American pragmatists. Yet, in order to reflect the existing links between Santayana and the pragmatists, I propose the label “Abulensean pragmatist” and explain the meaning of this half serious half ironical title. I conclude by summarizing the research presented in the book. Krzysztof (Chris) Piotr SkowroĔski Institute of Philosophy, Opole University, Poland

Introduction VALUES AND POWERS IN A PHILOSOPHICAL CONTEXT The present work is directed to all contemporary scholars, philosophers, and humanists who have an urgent need to re-think the role of values. This is especially true in the face of the contemporary debate on values, so hugely infected by post-humanism, post-structuralism, postmodernism, post-colonialism, posthistoricism, etc., which are all skeptical towards ontological realism, epistemological objectivism, ethical absolutism, and anthropological rationalism. This book examines the representative part of the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism with interest and sympathy, especially in the context of seeing values as closely related to powers and powers as closely related to values. The separation of values and powers is hardly possible in American pragmatism. This is also the case, partially, with transcendentalism, pragmaticism, absolute pragmatism, and neopragmatism, all of which I include in the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. I believe that the positive, creative, worthy, democratic, and valuable use of powers for the sake of all people, not just some of them, is the great contribution of the whole tradition of American pragmatism to contemporary philosophy and to the humanities in general. I agree with Nicolas Rescher when he writes that pragmatism, when surveyed from the point of view of its historical development, “is not a doctrine or theory, but a complex of diverse tendencies of thought” (Rescher, 2005, p. 355). At the same time, I have some reservation about his claim that those tendencies “move in different directions” (ibid.). In my view, which I will try to show in the present book, the approach to values and powers unifies the movement to a degree and characterizes its belief in the use of values and powers for the betterment of the lives of individuals and their societies. I would like to stress at the beginning, that my reference to powers does not imply an accusation that the pragmatists call for any type of aggression, brute force, war, and incitement of conflicts. I firmly believe that the anthropocentric, democratic, pro-social, moral, and melioristic character of American pragmatism rejects this from the start. Instead, I detect different types of pressure, coercion, domination, control, and influence imposed (intentionally or not and directly or indirectly) by some agents upon others that leads to a reorientation in the agents’ understanding of values and valuations, and vice versa, that exercises or does not exercise powers in the name of values. To put it differently, values cannot stand if not supported by powers, and powers deprived of values as moral vindication become brute force. For American pragmatists, ascribing any philosophical meaning to brute force is unacceptable.

2

VALUES AND POWERS 1. Why Re-reading?

In my view, the need for each new generation of scholars, thinkers and readers to ask questions about the present and future state of social life justifies an unprejudiced and unbiased re-reading of past masters. It justifies re-defining the sense of their works, re-thinking the tradition they co-created, and re-interpreting the aims they wanted to achieve. This willingness to re-examine the conditions of public affairs, even in so tiny a part as philosophy, can be accompanied by dissatisfaction with the uncritical acceptance of our intellectual inheritance. I agree with David Dilworth who writes on the issue in the following way: I hold, on the one hand, that there is nothing sacred in any of the past philosophical (or religious) systems in themselves—nothing that renders them impervious to reinterpretation. On the other hand, I maintain that it is foolish to think one can refute or even deconstruct any of the great philosophical texts. That would undermine the ground on which we now stand. Rather, the task must be to repossess—to remember and to reappreciate—past philosophical accomplishments as they relate to present and future developments in philosophy (Dilworth, 1989, p. 3). This is also my intention in the present book. Namely, I want to determine whether the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism can provide us with a more satisfactory interpretation of the problems of values in the present situation, or a more satisfactory one than other systems of thought have been able to provide. My conclusion is positive, and I argue that pragmatism can give us a satisfactory vision of the world of values. This vision is even more convincing when the relation between values and powers is more pronounced and its applications more specified. At the same time, I do not claim that this re-reading will lead to a final evaluation of pragmatism, or a definite estimation of the role of values and powers; new experiences generate new options for viewing things. For these reasons, it appears that we need to constantly re-read texts, traditions, and philosophies. Simultaneously, we need to re-formulate the challenges, according to the problems that emerge in the dynamic and evolving practice of social life. I believe that this approach suits pragmatic methodological assumptions quite well, since they maintain that no final stage of philosophical reflection can be settled. Instead, pragmatists look for newer vistas, fresher interpretations, and still better solutions that make it possible for us to develop more satisfying outlooks and more penetrating insights. Also, I suppose, my approach suits the pragmatic method of investigation in the sense that it embraces philosophy with many aspects of life as interconnected and interdependent: ontological, ethical, aesthetic, axiological, social, psychological, and political. This relates to the assumption, so much evoked by pragmatists, that there should be no gap between philosophy and life. They argue that experience

Introduction

3

has a holistic character, and that philosophy and philosophers should broach and analyze many plots and themes at the same time that deal with a multitude of aspects of life. This also concerns the method that I employ in the book. Namely, the level of theory permeates the level of practice; in the first place, we will consider some ideas and their speculative character, and, next, we will discuss the practical implementation of these ideas. Many methodologies have as a crucial postulate that these two should not be mixed. Yet, there exist philosophical positions (the Socratic was the first and the pragmatic one of the latest) that insist on minimizing the distance between theory and practice. I intentionally adhere to this method, so as to stress the practical role of philosophy, and since I share this trait with pragmatism I want to make it even more pronounced while philosophizing in the present book. The dangers of re-reading a given philosophy afresh as I propose in the present book, without much dependence on popular interpretations and without too much reference to existing secondary literature, are many and serious. The first danger is that such a re-reading can result in a possible distortion of the internal logic and misinterpretation of the overall architectonics of the philosophy under investigation. For example, if pragmatists themselves did not theoretically recognize the notion of “powers” as crucial, why should an interpreter or commentator propose such a re-arrangement? To provide another example, if we ignore the commonly accepted context of a given system of thought and begin making possible re-arrangements, we could be accused of needless speculations, artificial stimulations, unnecessary challenges, fruitless collocations, and impotent conclusions. With these dangers in mind, every new generation of scholars needs to revise existing philosophies, claims, and assumptions in order to face new vistas, and find better ways to intellectually confront the world any time these scholars begin to interpret problems differently than the original authors. This does not deny that it is risky to take over the old systems of thought and use them in the new contexts. It is risky for both parties. On the one hand, if the philosophies are left as they were originally composed, then they are endangered by becoming outdated. On the other hand, the new challenges, when seen from the perspective of old categories and old philosophies, can become misread and misdealt. Re-reading also presents a danger of neglecting factual relations and developments between and amongst philosophical trends that constituted the background from which a given thought (American pragmatism in this case) emerged and the ideas in reference to which this philosophy was constructed. In response to this danger, I re-read pragmatism from a perspective that, I dare to claim, has not been proposed seriously as yet. I refer to just some of the main books of particular pragmatists, because I do not intend to reconstruct the philosophies of some pragmatists. I wish to see their philosophical outputs in light of the relation between values and powers in order to see whether new applications can be discovered and fresh philosophical solutions proposed. The

4

VALUES AND POWERS

present book does not attempt to research the area of the history of American pragmatism, understood as a study of the influences of one pragmatist upon another. The interdependencies between pragmatism and other philosophical schools, the development of particular versions of pragmatism over time, and the internal logic of pragmatism have already been presented competently in such books as: The Blackwell Guide to American Philosophy, edited by Armen T. Marsoobian and John Ryder (2004); H. S. Thayer’s Meaning and Action: A Critical History of Pragmatism (1981); Charles W. Morris’s, The Pragmatic Movement in American Philosophy (1970); Frederick Copleston’s History of Philosophy, vol. 8 (1966); and many others. I do not deny that such a re-reading is a wonderful opportunity to construct my own viewpoint on different philosophical issues, which will be most visible in the present work when I try to propose my own definitions or ways of understanding what values are, and in what ways the understanding of values relates to powers. 2. Why American Pragmatism? The global character of American pragmatism provides sufficient reason to reread it once again. Its impact continues to grow and other philosophies in different quarters confront many aspects of American pragmatism. Its rich tradition and its increasing expansion (to lands that have long been immune to its influence, such as Central and Eastern Europe) make it necessary to refer to it and to look at it as a source of inspiration. Pragmatism is widely known and read thanks to the influential works of Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, Josiah Royce, John Dewey, George Herbert Mead, and Richard Rorty, which are more and more read and studied in an international community of scholars trained in different disciplines. Perhaps even more crucially, we can explain the spread of pragmatism because it provides us with quite an efficient way of seeing philosophical problems and the ways they can be approached and understood better. The present book proposes such a re-reading of the philosophy of American pragmatism in order to determine how much and in what sense values are related to powers and powers are related to values. The importance of this relationship has, in American pragmatism, both an internal and external character. It is internal, because the reference to values and powers is constitutive in pragmatism. It always sees the use of the energies of men and the strength of communities in the context of promoting democratic values and making life better. For example, according to James, each and every human being is biologically equipped and socially predisposed with a certain potentiality, or rather with a set of potentialities, which in propitious circumstances (both natural and social) can be activated, developed, and enlarged. Huge reservoirs of positive energies can be found in man, which are manifested by excitements, feelings, emotions, optimism, wishes, and hopes in each human being. These

Introduction

5

energies are latent, abandoned, suppressed, or just partly used. They should be accessed, identified, explored, and creatively transcribed into the practice of everyday life for the benefit of the holder of these potentialities and of the community where he or she lives. To sum up, the connection between values and powers is as follows: valuable things can be achieved by the activation of human powers, and the realization of good things needs this power. On the other hand, human energy needs valuable aims, because without valuable aims these energies would become dissipated and/or simply ill-used. The character of the relationship between values and powers is also external, because the reference to values and powers is a constitutive factor in the pragmatic interpretation of other philosophical systems. This is even true for those that, in their axiological assumptions and their internal moral substance, do not have any explicit reference to powers. For example, if we want to assume a pragmatic position in order to interpret, say, contemplative aesthetics, we would not have to refer to powers in this concept, because contemplative aesthetics has only a slight reference to powers, if at all. Instead, we would claim that this concept (contemplative aesthetics) was articulated and promoted due to a unique arrangement of social powers in non-democratic and hierarchical societies. For example, aristocratic elites within the hierarchical societies of Ancient Greece, Medieval Europe, and nineteenth-century Germany played a decisive role in setting artistic tendencies, imposing their aesthetic standards upon other layers of society, and/or in keeping or petrifying the existing canons. It should be admitted that from a methodological point of view, the suggested way of re-reading pragmatism is slightly risky, since pragmatism has not constructed a theory of the relation between values and powers. This way of seeing things may have appeared odd for them, and perhaps for their followers as well. One of the main aims of the book is to show that, despite a scarcity of systematic reflection on the topic, the philosophy of American pragmatism has not failed to identify and discuss this connection, and I hope that the present book will contribute to studies on pragmatism in this context. This does not mean that the focus upon this distinction is more or less the same for all the representatives of the movement. The present book does not aim to study the diversity of the pragmatist camp, along the lines of Arthur O. Lovejoy’s famous distinction of it into thirteen meanings in The Thirteen Pragmatisms (1908), or the possible splits within pragmatism, as presented in J. David Lewis, Richard L. Smith’s, American Sociology and Pragmatism (1980). Although, I do outline a typology made from the point of view of the relation between values and powers. Namely, if we make it a criterion by means of which to measure the unity of the movement, it will appear that Ralph Waldo Emerson’s and Peirce’s approaches are slightly different than James’, Dewey’s, Mead’s, (later) Royce’s and Rorty’s, and these five differ from George Santayana, from time to time collocated with pragmatism.

6

VALUES AND POWERS

The division of this book into three parts articulates this typology. The central part of the book shows that classical pragmatism, taken from the point of view of the approach towards values and powers, constitutes unity and that we should see this movement as more or less coherent in the attitude to the issue. I do not want to judge in a definite way the degree of completeness and coherence of the philosophy of a particular pragmatist, or of pragmatism in general, as this is not my aim in the present study. I make a distinction, however, between Peirce’s pragmaticism and the pragmatism of James, Dewey, Mead, (later) Royce, and Rorty, and tend to see pragmatism as more or less coherent in stressing the significant role of both values and powers. I should note that this is not a logical evolution, as regards the problem of values and powers within American pragmatism, demonstrated in the present work. I do not think that, except for Peirce who should be treated separately, such an evolution or development can be seen amongst the pragmatists. If we take, for example, James’ and Dewey’s views we will conclude that these options are to some degree different, but much more convergent within the same framework. Since, unlike Peirce, they have quite similar points of reference. Another methodological issue deals with the system of philosophical expression, and I do not mean here a system as understood in traditional metaphysics. If we agree that by “system of thought” we can understand a more or less coherent, complete, architectonical, wholly embracing, and holistic view of reality, we will have to decide which parts of the author’s output best represent the system. Let me note immediately that in the same sense we can dispute articulations of a given idea, concept, or suggestion by a given author, or a group of authors. We can dispute to what unity it should be included, what milieu is its “proper” place, and what context is its “native” site. For example, should it be treated as a part of the book (or a paper) within which it was first articulated in its fullest and most definite form? Or, perhaps, should it be seen as part of the system of thought presented in the given book (or a given paper)? To illustrate the issue, if we take, say, transcendentalism, we can ask whether the pragmatism of Society and Solitude constitutes its main message, or the idealism of “The Transcendentalist,” as both options have eminent followers in contemporary scholarship. For example (to take already mentioned authors and books), West’s The American Evasion of Philosophy presents the first, and Copleston’s History of Philosophy argues the second. Even when we tentatively agree with such a synoptic approach within methodology, according to which a given system of thought should be seen as a more or less internally coherent unity, and any of its elements should be seen as connected with the rest, it would be quite difficult to decide the exact constitution of the given unity. Where, precisely, lays its border? What elements should be seen as crucial? Was the idea articulated in an internally semantically integral speech along with (or without) the commentators and interpreters writing works on it and, perhaps, modifying it and making it better, fuller, and more popular? Was it a movement or a group (school) of thinkers (such as pragma-

Introduction

7

tism)? Or, was it movement of a given spiritual tradition of a given country and of a given epoch (such as contemporary American thought)? To put it another way, should we treat a given system of thought as a unity being aware, as we almost always are, of: the inconsistencies of the system and the different backgrounds of this thought; the influences upon this philosophy; the author’s own reference to this or that philosophical tradition(s); the intellectual atmosphere in which he or she was saturated; the constantly changing meaning for the following generations; and the new readings and re-readings of these meanings? The history of philosophy provides many attempts to implement some pieces of a given system of thought into different contexts and into divergent philosophies. For example, the Pythagorean idea of cosmic harmony has been transplanted into sundry aesthetic trends throughout the ages, including Christian theocentrism, Renaissance naturalism, and contemporary abstract arts. Likewise, stoical notions of tranquility, self-mastery, and emotional calm (ataraxia) were often taken out of the stoical system and seen as an independent or autonomous concepts to be employed unrestrictedly by both religious and non-religious concepts of manliness. In the process, they were deprived of the stoical metaphysics of which the concept of tranquility had been an integral part. Similarly, many who reject Christianity itself recognize and appreciate the Christian idea of the brotherhood of man. Last but not least, Peirce’s idea of signs has been widely used (and, perhaps, abused), re-interpreted, and evoked with hardly any reference to its native philosophy. The present book does not intend to present and discuss the problem of the unity of a philosophical system. Yet, for the purpose of this work, I will risk and assume methodological pluralism whereby sundry ways of approaching a given system of thought can be interesting and worthy of application. For a variety of reasons (intellectual and cognitive in the first instance), any part of any person’s philosophical output can be taken out of the greater whole and implemented, or used, in a different or external context. This does not preclude at all seeing (on other occasions and by means of other methodologies) the given philosophy from different points of view: of its internal composition; of its chronological and logical evolution; of its role in history, culture, and science; or of its possible significance in life. Stressing the role of values and powers, I do not suggest that the philosophy of pragmatism can be reduced merely to the operation of values and powers. Reductionism is not a pragmatic idea, and this option is not suggested anywhere in this book. Instead, pragmatism can be re-read from the point of view of values and powers as constitutive, although not exclusive, factors. Without these factors the pragmatists would be unable and unwilling to maintain their philosophical positions. Before proceeding further, the term “American,” in the context of the nationalization of philosophy or treating philosophy as a part of a given national culture, demands consideration. Namely, some may accuse the present

8

VALUES AND POWERS

book for creating unnecessary and additional boundaries in philosophy. Why, they may ask, instead of “pragmatism,” do I suggest a special role of national factors when describing “American pragmatism” and separate it from “nonAmerican pragmatism?” My critics may allege that Peirce and James should be seen as global or universal thinkers, not simply American, as their texts do not refer to their Americanism. My reply to this is as follows: I detect a tendency in American philosophy to eliminate national distinctions, which I find compatible with the basic assumptions of American pragmatism whose aspirations (declared or implicitly assumed) have, as I write later in the book, global, universal, radical, and soteriological character. It suits American pragmatists perfectly well to claim that pragmatism is a universal, not only an American, project. Contrary to this, I think that American pragmatism should be analyzed as a form of American culture and as an important articulation of its character and its vitality. I agree with Rorty who, in his essay “Americanism and Pragmatism,” indicates that such representatives of American pragmatism as James, Dewey, and (I suspect) Rorty himself, treated America seriously and were conscious of its global, historical, and cultural significance, especially as regards the meaning of democracy. For them, as for Walt Whitman, the terms “America” and “democracy” sounded almost synonymic (Rorty, 1999, p. 120). 3. Why Philosophical Tradition? It is difficult to sharply delineate the borders of American pragmatism. How can we claim with certainty and exactitude that, say, neopragmatism is a continuation of pragmaticism, Italian pragmatism is akin to American, and Royce or Santayana belong or do not belong to the pragmatist camp? Pragmatism is a dynamic and expansive philosophical movement. One aspect of this dynamism and expansion is a tendency, quite strong among scholars who are in one sense or another related to it, to include into American pragmatism thinkers who do not quite fit into the pragmatic philosophy. For example, more and more people include Ralph Waldo Emerson in the movement, or view him as a proto-pragmatist, despite knowing that the ontology of transcendentalism (especially in its earlier period of development) does not fit the pragmatic philosophy of James or Dewey. The same is true for Santayana who many see as an American pragmatist (cf., SkowroĔski, 2007, pp. 24-28). This book cannot analyze all possible versions of American pragmatism and their philosophical allies. Instead, I study pragmatism and some representatives of related philosophies: the transcendentalism of Emerson and Thoreau; the pragmaticism of Peirce; the pragmatic absolutism of Royce; the neopragmatism of Rorty and Shusterman; and the pragmatic aesthetics of Margolis. I examine these from the point of view of values and powers in order to determine whether this link can make these philosophies one, more or less coherent, philosophical tradition.

Introduction

9

Briefly, the phrase “philosophical tradition” makes it possible for me to include in the present book trends that are related to pragmatism due to similar approaches towards values and powers, but remain outside the classic pragmatism of James, Dewey, and Mead. Santayana, who has a different approach to values and powers, is included in this study in order to show that he participated in and contributed to the tradition of American pragmatism by discussing many issues with, for example, Dewey. I want to show in what sense the understanding of values and powers can appear differently than how it manifests in pragmatism and related trends. I prefer to talk about the “tradition” of American pragmatism, not simply about American pragmatism. I believe that the differences between such philosophies as transcendentalism, pragmaticism, pragmatism, and pragmatic absolutism are so large that it would hardly make any sense to merge them into one philosophical theory. In my opinion, ontological presuppositions make it impossible for us to put Dewey’s naturalism side by side with, say, Emerson. Emerson was deeply engaged in the studies of Plotinus’ version of the Platonic thought, as transmitted by the Cambridge Platonists, and developed his ideas of “over-soul,” of spirit animating nature, and of pantheism. Likewise, it would be quite problematic to claim that Dewey’s instrumentalism has something in common with Santayana’s dedication to the realm of essence. I also understand and follow Peirce’s attempts, for ontological reasons, to make a distinction between his pragmaticism and James’ pragmatism. Despite all these reservations, this book places a stress on pragmatism and this makes the central point as regards the “philosophical schools.” 4. Value Inquiries as the Starting Point The philosophy of values (or, the other names for the same, axiology and value inquiries) emerged in the late nineteenth century as a philosophical sub-discipline dealing in a systematic and methodological way with values, valuations, hierarchies, and typologies of values. Several people contributed to the emergence of the philosophy of values, including: Rudolph Herman Lotze (Metaphysics, 1879); Franz Brentano (The Origin of our Knowledge of Right and Wrong, 1889); Christian von Ehrenfels (System of Theory of Value, 1893); Paul Lapie (Logique de la volonte, 1902). The philosophy of values developed rapidly in the early twentieth century, thanks to the phenomenologists: Max Scheler (Formalism in Ethics and Non-Formal Ethics, 1913-1916); and Nicolai Hartmann (Ethics, 1926). At that time, British thinkers made a great contribution to a philosophy of values: G. E. Moore (Principia Ethica, 1903) argued, with his idea of naturalistic fallacy, that any attempt to define the good by means of some natural properties is abortive at the start; and John Laird (in Idea of Value, 1929) who systematized the problematics of philosophy of values thematically and historically.

10

VALUES AND POWERS

Also, Frederick Nietzsche made a strong impact on axiological reflection with his idea of the revaluation of all values. The Baden Neo-Kantians (Heinrich Rickert and Wilhelm Windelband) contributed their idea of obligation, and Sigmund Freud provided his concept of the subjective and hidden mechanisms of valuations. In the United States, the most profound theoretical works on the philosophy of values were provided by: John Dewey (Theory of Valuation, 1939); R. B. Perry (General Theory of Values, 1926; Realms of Value, 1954); Bertram Emil Jessup (Relational Values Meanings, 1943); W. M. Urban (Valuation, 1908); Hugo Münstenberg (The Eternal Values, 1909); Charles W. Morris (Varieties of Human Value, 1956); and many others. The appearance of so many theories of values and axiological concepts over the last two hundred years does not mean that the problems of values are comparatively new for philosophers. Western thinkers have always reflected on this issue. Problems of values lacked an elaborate theoretical methodology and systematic argumentation at the beginning, but it was one of the main philosophical debates discussed in ancient Greece. The Greek Pythagoreans, by claiming that values are independent of agents’ opinions and individuals’ predilections and that values can be discovered instead of created, formulated and vindicated the idea of what we call objective values in ethics and aesthetics. Soon after the Pythagoreans, a debate between Plato and the Sophists showed the clash between the followers of the absolute and relative values. The debate focused upon whether values are unchangeable and eternally fixed or if they are changeable, and in temporal relation to different factors (social practice in the first instance). More or less at the same time, Socrates discounted Anaxagoras’ vision of what is important, good, beautiful, and true in philosophy (and in science) and what is not. Socrates searched for values in the world of human action, not in the world of non-human (that is cosmic) rules (cf., Plato, Phaedo, 97b-99c; Santayana, 1910, pp. 73-74). Unlike Anaxagoras, who argued for the importance of knowledge about nature and the laws of the universe, Socrates believed that wisdom and the noble life were sensible aim(s) to be pursued and achieved. Aristotle, in turn, articulated the idea of kalokagathia (the unity of the good and the beautiful), already popular with the Greeks, whereby ethics and aesthetics are hardly separable, and, for example, moral deeds can be seen as beautiful or ugly. The Stoics used the term “value” (axios) philosophically, and they made the influential division between values that are precious and values that have dignity. Immanuel Kant, in his Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals (or Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals), repeated this division. Contemporary philosophy, despite its own specificity and problematics, continues to search for answers to the question of the status of values and how valuations are dependent on external factors. The growing interest in different aspects of value inquiries shows that contemporary philosophers do participate, no less intensively than in the past, in the debate over the problems of values and related issues. American pragmatists, for example, have opted for a

Introduction

11

relative, instead of absolute, status of values. They argue: for a social source of meaning of values, instead of an individual source; for their dynamic character, instead of their static character; for their instrumental nature, instead of their intrinsic nature; for practical criteria of valuations, instead of speculative criteria; for axiological pluralism, instead of axiological monism; and for active melioration of the world, instead of passive contemplation of its beauty and truth. Despite our awareness that reflections on values go back to the Ancient Greeks, and that today research into the philosophy of values has developed an impressive methodology and elaborate tools for this research, the most challenging problems remain unresolved. The question arises whether further deliberations in the area are called for, or, as the postmodernists would claim, whether the classic problems are wrongly put. Today, traditional concepts of values and traditional notions (such as the good, the beautiful, and the truth) are more and more undermined. As a result, their meanings are more and more obscured, and it is appropriate, at this point, to take a short look at these classic controversies. Ontologically, the main concern has been whether values exist autonomously and independently from any relation to anything outside of them, in the first place to the agents and their evaluations. Additionally, if values are autonomous, as many idealists claim, are they eternal or temporary? Plato argued that values are autonomous, and that their lasting being is not limited by any external factor. Consequently, their eternity can be assumed. Contrary options on values, some of which are labeled as naturalistic, state that values “appear” as a result of agents’ evaluation of given objects and states of affairs. If we change this terminology and, instead of talking about “eternity” we talk about “changelessness,” we can see that the issue of whether values are mutable does not have to be regarded in terms of a confrontation with Platonism. We can claim that values are crucial, like the value of human life, and that they do not change irrespective of geographical location and historical time. Everywhere, all the time, people value human life most of all. Epistemologically, we can ask how do we get to know values or the worth of objects and states of things. Do we learn values by means of our sensual experience? Or, instead, are values acquired by speculation, intuition, and faith? Along these lines, who is best predisposed to decide as to how values can be cognized? Do philosophers, scientists, priests, or the members of the public decide in their collective voice? If we assume that these people constitute the majority of the members of society, instead of a limited or selected group, then immediately the problem arises as to which members of society should be given the decisive voice (scientists? philosophers? priests? artists? leaders?). Moving beyond the Western world, perhaps we should look at the issue globally and suggest that each society in the world has the right to their ways of looking at valuation and the cognition of values.

12

VALUES AND POWERS

Anthropologically, we can ask to what extent humans determine values. To put it differently, was Protagoras right in saying that man is the measure of all things? If so, we would have to accept the rationale for a sharp division between human values and non-human (animal) values. This can, although it does not have to, lead to claims about the superiority of the human over nonhuman values. In practice it means that values related to the development and happiness of a human family matter, whereas values related to the development and happiness of, say, a beaver’s family do not matter. Unless, accidentally, we refer to some mercantile issues, such as hunting and the fur trade. Sociologically, we can ask which values should be realized: individual or social? This, in turn, relates to the answer to the question as to what is more fundamental or basic in the general outlook of public life: the individual or the group (be it a community, a society, or a nation)? Many opinions exist, from Michael de Montainge’s to Nietzsche’s and Santayana’s, who contend that individuals are the primary elements out of which all social groups are composed. For Santayana, this way, every man, one by one with his or her needs, should be given the priority, and be seen as the primary source of values. Others, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel being one of them, claim that the social group is primary and individuals receive their cultural equipment and axiological meaning from the community in which they were raised. Psychologically, we can wonder whether values are determined by the needs and expectations of human minds, and all that humans need and appreciate should be regarded as value or as valuable. Baruch Spinoza expressed this perplexity tersely in his Ethics (III, 39), without solving it, when he claimed “we in no case desire a thing because we deem it good, but, contrariwise, we deem a thing good because we desire it.” Typologically, the main problem is whether values should be divided into types, and if so what types? Is it possible to treat value as a category, which is a common denominator of the “good” in ethics, “the beautiful” in aesthetics, “worth” in economy, and “truth” in epistemology? For example, utilitarianism developed a theory that states that all values are instrumental and serve as tools for the realization of certain aims, and that no values can have intrinsic excellence. Structurally, it has been questioned whether we are right to think that value is a part or a greater whole and constitutes an organized system. In the history of philosophy such systems have been indicated frequently: morality, science, law, and the arts. In the twentieth century, it became more and more a common view that it is impossible to examine values in a systematic, regular, and orderly arranged way. Their aesthetic attempts refer to the avant-garde claim that the world of values, if anything like this exists, should be compared to a kaleidoscopic irregularity and unforeseeableness, which can only be expressed without any normative consequences. Hierarchically, we can ask whether it would be possible to discuss if any ascending (and descending) order of values exists. Is, for example, summum

Introduction

13

bonum at the top, as the scholastics saw it, or is it the greatest amount of satisfaction for the greatest amount of people, as the utilitarians claimed? Can we follow Jeremy Bentham’s idea of calculus of pleasure and propose something like a “calculus of value” in order to count the increase of worth in things, in agents, and in states of things? Also, what is the criterion, or the criteria, for possible calculations of the increase and decrease of values? If we knew such criterion, or criteria, this knowledge would be crucial in the objective estimation of the worth of every life, in the undisputed measurement of the success of every community and every country in the realization of many basic aims. Deontologically, should values be converted into obligations, as the Baden Neo-Kantians suggested? Should values be converted into norms that declare that if a given state of affairs is valuable should I do it if I am able? If we agree that something is valuable, does it not mean at the same time that it should be realized (by me and all others who are in a position to realize it)? For instance, if “beauty” is a value, does it mean that I should beautify the world as much as I can? If “love” is a value, should I love as much as I can? David Hume’s articulation of the “Is-Ought” problem is a good introduction to this issue. Methodologically, can we define values by finding an essential core in them? Or, perhaps should we try to define and understand values in a different way, for example, by talking about valuations in order to avoid associations with a metaphysic-type of essentialism, as the pragmatists strongly advice us to do? 5. What Are Values and Powers in the Present Work? In the present work I do not take the definition of values from this or that representative of American pragmatism, because it would be inefficient in my attempt to re-read it in a new light. Pragmatism cannot be seen in a new light by means of using previously coined definitions, especially since, as mentioned above, pragmatists have not articulated explicitly and sufficiently the object of my investigation. I propose to construct a way of understanding what values are, which would suit the philosophical assumption of pragmatism. I want to see if it can help with a better understanding of pragmatism from the outside, and if such an understanding of values can have a more universal meaning that can be used by other traditions and other philosophies. I argue, not unlike the position of some of the pragmatists, that what I call “axiological thinking,” or thinking on values, is unavoidable and necessary. The importance of values and valuations is huge, regardless of philosophical convictions, metaphysical frames, and ontological grounds to which one may like to refer. Axiological thinking is necessary not only when we deal with such notions as “truth,” “good,” and “beauty,” but also each and every time we refer to such notions as “success” (and “failure”), “progress” (and “regress”), “development” (and “retardation”), “better” (and “worse”), “more efficient” (and

14

VALUES AND POWERS

“less efficient”), “suitable” (and “superfluous”), “needed” (and “not needed”), “more important (and “less important”), etc. We are involved in axiological thinking every time we talk, for example, about “progress” (or “regress”), because we suppose that the next stage within a given sequence of stages is better (or worse) than the first. We either provide something additional that makes the previous stage fuller and more complete (according to a presupposed criterion), by making it closer to some definite purpose, by purifying the given state of things, or otherwise (I will return to the ways of the accumulation of values below). Also, when any realization of an aim is looked for, then any step forward or any tool needed for the materialization of the given state of things assumes an axiological character. The decision cannot be made at this moment as to whether this aim has to be, or has to refer to a final, ultimate, and cosmic purpose. Or, whether it will be enough if a manifestation of axiological thinking takes place when people aim for particular targets, down-to-earth purposes, and small scale achievements. The term “value” should not be understood in the present work as a metaphysical or quasi-metaphysical category, by means of which the problems of the world can be examined and solved. Instead, I propose to see values and valuations every time one assumes such an attitude towards agents (humans and, perhaps, the higher mammals), living bodies (animals and plants), things (objects), actions (deeds and activities), and states of affairs (facts and situations) that places them in the context of how good, worthy, beautiful, true, useful, important, and satisfactory they are, they can be, and/or they should be. We always deal with values when such an approach is assumed by agents towards other agents, living bodies, things, actions, and states of affairs when a realization and a possibility of realization, a lack of realization, and/or a destruction of value(s) takes place. Emphasizing the role of such an attitude in philosophy does not necessarily mean that the reality, independent of its ontological status, has (exclusively or primarily) an axiological character. It does not mean that all agents, all things, all actions, and all facts are, say, intrinsically or objectively valuable. Instead, it means that many of them, if not all, have the potential of having a greater or lesser value. According to this approach, a given agent, living body, thing, action, and state of affairs can be seen, for example, as one that should or should not be like this or like that, as better or worse, as more or less appropriate, as satisfactory to a greater or lesser number of people. All this according to the criterion, or the criteria, that has or have previously been presupposed as the basis for the evaluation. The use of powers makes a given object or situation better (worse) or more (less) satisfactory than it exists now. Without powers, values would be impotent. It would be impossible for them to be realized, and, possibly, increase their meaning. Here, I propose an axiological understanding of the term “powers,” which deals with all types of pressure, coercion, domination, control, and influence imposed, intentionally or not and directly or indirectly, by some

Introduction

15

agents upon others, which leads to the reorientation in the latter’s understanding of values and valuations. This reorientation of the understanding of values and valuations does require a change of the understanding of values, as it can equally mean a confirmation. As I show below, many models of the accumulation of values can be proposed. According to one, which I call “a confirmative model,” the preservation of the present understanding of values, despite changing circumstances, makes the followers of this model more conscious of their aims. In this way, they are reoriented in keeping and conserving the status quo of their world of values. Generally speaking, powers can be seen as something valuable or as recognized from the point of view of good (or evil), better (or worse), more (or less) important and/or satisfactory to a greater (or fewer) number of people, and/or that should (or should not) be. Everything that serves the maximization of the existing powers and the actualization of the potential, latent in a body, in an entity, and elsewhere, could be seen as good (or bad), better (or worse), and as one that should (or should not) be. Practically and ethically, one could focus on situation(s) in which an agent or a group of agents, by using pressure, coercion, domination, control, and influence, make(s) it necessary for other person(s) to modify in some way previously held position on values. Without this imposition the previously held position would not have been changed. In the previous paragraph, we can detect a type of powers-values relation, in which powers have influence upon values. However, this not always is the case, and we can provide an example showing that values influence powers too. As I have mentioned, the anthropocentric, pro-social, and democratic character of American pragmatism rejects any vindication of the exercising of brute force upon people. The individual, as a member of a community, is seen as the axiological basis for pragmatism in general. Pragmatists have never threatened man’s basic interests, and never (unless shortly and marginally), in American pragmatism, has the worth of human life been dedicated to the realization of sectarian and/or totalitarian aims. 6. The Significance of Values-Powers Relation. Accumulation of Values The term “power(s)” has many meanings and its use has multiple applications in life: most commonly with the physical or muscular power of humans and animals, which we frequently call “strength;” with the solidity of the structure of objects, often called “resistance;” with the political institutions of the state, when we think, for example, of the “effective execution of law;” with the military power of an army or “might;” with the political power of a party or a government, or the “effective ruling of home and abroad;” with the brutality practiced by some agents against others, which we frequently call “violence;” with the communal pressure upon the members of the given minority group or the individuals within the group, which is sometimes called “social conventions;” and with the moral influence of authority figures upon others, which is

16

VALUES AND POWERS

often imposed by means of, for example, “moral teaching.” According to some religions, God has unlimited power, commonly called “omnipotence,” and some see Nature as possessing the “generative power” that makes it possible for sundry species to be born and grow. Of the forms of power one can examine, include: legal (for example: compulsory voting, compulsory attendance); illegal (for example, duress); physical (for example, arresting); mental (for example, persuasion); ideological (for example, propaganda); individual (for example, clashing internal powers in my mind); collective (for example, the powers of social myths in some societies); potential (for example, when its presence is known, but not used as yet); latent (for example, when hardly anyone at the present moment knows how to exercise this power); actual (for example, not realized yet); objective (for example, exercised by natural forces); subjective (for example, exercised by me); illusory (for example, not effective in real life); powers distributed by institutions (for example, the power of the legal system); preserved by means of the social routine (for example, habits and customs); cultivated within families (for example, by parental power); and many others. Or, to paraphrase Michel Foucault, powers are coming out nearly everywhere. This does not mean that using the term “powers” in so many ways necessarily evokes metaphysics, in the Platonic or scholastic sense of the term. Likewise, the application of such terms as “life,” in so different forms of organisms as humans, crocodiles, worms, and plants does not imply that we follow essentialism in our approach towards the natural phenomena. We can see variegated forms of life and variegated forms of powers, and we have to realize this and differentiate them each and every time. Although, in doing this, we do not postulate anything reductive in embracing this or that variegation by means of one term. From a methodological point of view, we can ask whether it is justified to use a collective name, or label, for “powers,” having in mind a variety of phenomena. Can, by means of the term “powers,” all such different forces, such as energy, vitality, fortitude, strength, etc., be reduced to one common denominator, which is “powers”? If so, would it not be a reference to metaphysical and essentialist type of thinking? I do not avoid classifications or typology of powers and, roughly speaking, I distinguish in the present book four major groups. First, powers understood internally, as internal energies in man, such as: fortitude, or a firm insistence upon the realization of some aim; vitality, or a natural thrive of inner energies within the man; and stamina, or the strength to overcome obstacles. Second, powers understood externally, as natural and environmental conditions, such as the generative power of nature. Third, powers understood in relations between men, such as tensions within social groups for domination and control. Fourth, powers understood as the strength of social institutions, such as the might of a state and the restrictive character of the legal system.

Introduction

17

As regards the effects of powers, it would be naïve and simplified to interpret power(s) exclusively or predominantly as a force, or forces, of a direct, pejorative, intentional, and imminent implementation. First, powers can be effective as the results of strategies, which agents themselves do not see as powerful at all. In this way, they have an indirect application. For example, imagine a situation where colonizers of a pristine land peopled by a primitive tribe, peacefully offer utensils to the locals and help them with, say, education and medicine. If these efforts are not rejected by the locals, then the colonizers have indirectly, perhaps unconsciously, impacted the locals. They will modify, sooner or later, their previous way of living and their previous views on what is good and needed, all the while the colonizers having not perceived any harm done to them. Second, it does not necessarily mean that the term “power(s)” equals a bad, derogatory, and destructive domination. For example, educational influence, even if compulsory—be it one person (adviser) upon another (student), or of an institution (school) on people (pupils)—can lead to quite positive results for those who previously were under no compulsion to learn. Hence, it would be risky to propose, in advance, a list of powers to be avoided and those to be welcome at any time and at any place. Third, intention, frequently understood as connected with the execution of power, can be included or excluded from the analysis, depending upon the context, because we can discuss the issue when we deal with a person or a small group of people having a conscious recognition of the effects of their actions. We cannot talk plausibly about any intentions in wider social and indirect circumstances. For example, if we talk about the process of Americanization, or the cultural influence of the United States upon some external cultures nowadays or in the past, it would be difficult to say exactly whether it has been done intentionally or not. A further investigation must take place in order to argue convincingly that some actions of particular individuals were taken consciously to Americanize others. Otherwise, we face a post fact label imposed upon a set of social interactions. Fourth, the general estimation of the influence should be refreshed time after time, because new options and new vistas can and should be taken into consideration. For example, an overall estimation of the Christianization and civilization of Native American nations by Europeans will differ and depend upon the criteria that we use to make the judgment. Whereas some people will indicate the increased level of the civilizational (educational, medical, technological) level of the descendents of these tribes nowadays, others will see it, instead, as a “holocaust” of the Native American nations performed by European soldiers and settlers. Generally speaking, innumerable examples support such an understanding of the relation between values and powers: different forms of colonization, conquest, and imposition of one civilization, culture, and system of thought upon a nation or group have been performed, peacefully or not, in the profound

18

VALUES AND POWERS

conviction about the superiority, often moral superiority, over those subjugated groups of people. In this case, it would be quite difficult to differentiate values from powers, as those who have power and want to use it (usually, if not always) justify the use of powers by means of some good to be achieved. It would not be understandable if the mighty did not try to vindicate their use of power philosophically, morally, theologically, or in other ways. The crucial connection between values and powers is especially seen in the accumulation of values when any sort of increase, enlargement, aggrandizement, concentration, or maximization of values takes place. We can understand the accumulation of values in a variety of ways, and it should be noted that any type of accumulation of values needs some powers to make the accumulation realizable. I propose ten models for the accumulation of values; in some cases, in practice, they can overlap, get mixed up, or constitute a unity composed of two or three models at the same time. The first model, purposive or teleological, as Aristotle suggested in his idea of causa finalis, assumes that a valuable purpose generates valuableness and imparts the quality to the all parts that contribute to the purpose. In the second, aggregative, model, anything regarded as a value (whether a moral deed, a beautiful work, an interesting fact, or a unique state of things) is added to another value in order to make the world a place “having” as many values as possible. This is similar to the way that works of art are collected in a museum whereby greater and greater numbers make the museum more and more worthy. The third model, perfective, sees a value or what is seen as valuable as mastered, bettered, and developed in such a way as to reach its perfection. This model is not an aggregation of separate values, but aims at the ideal finale of some of them as the cumulation. This model was especially cultivated in Ancient Greece. For the fourth model, melioristic, looking for and aiming at perfection is too abstract, idealistic, and not quite practical. In this model, making a given value better than it exists at a given moment is fully satisfactory, irrespective of the chances of achieving the ideal target of making the world a happy place to live for everyone. William James, and many other pragmatists who refer to his thought, especially promote this model. The fifth model, understood by via negativa, seeks the elimination of wrongs, evils, faults, and imperfections. Taken to completion, this model leads to a state of cleanness and purity of a given value. I would call his model negative or via negativa. Here, attention is paid first to what is wrong, what does not work, what is abortive, what is not good, and what should be repaired. In the West, religiously inspired thinkers, those who wanted to defend the divinely created world against intoxication by human sinfulness, frequently espoused this model. The sixth, interpretative, model takes place as a result of a rearrangement of existing parts, elements, and contexts that compose a given value into a new

Introduction

19

one. For example, a redirection of one’s attitude towards an agent, deed, fact, or state of affairs can change the whole valuation. The following suggestion, taken from Marcus Aurelius (Meditations, IV, 7), illustrates this: “[i]f no man shall think himself wronged, then, is there no more any such thing as wrong.” The seventh model, confirmative, can mean that a given value is cultivated as it is, without the need for any development, purification, re-arrangement, change, or addition to anything else. This model does not recognize any mutation or evolution of the value, and of this is what is seen as valuable. Some traditional societies and groups throughout history appear to view their identification as a preservation of their traditions as they are. The eighth, revelational, model, encompasses values that are discovered and/or rediscovered. In this model, the ontological truth of the values is their ultimate justification. According to the ninth, inventive, model, values are created into existence. In this model, originality, uniqueness, and novelty are the criteria according to which a given agent, deed, fact, and state of things are seen as valuable. This is especially the case in contemporary art, where the author’s or artist’s individual vision and unrepeatable style makes for his/her attractiveness. The tenth, pluralistic, model accepts the incommensurable variety of different standards and criteria that determine what is valuable. It acknowledges that the term “valuable” means that something is created and respected as a value by any group of people. This appears the closest to a postmodern approach. 7. Values and Powers in the History of Western Philosophy In Antiquity, the Sophists, especially Callicles (cf., Plato, Gorgias, 483a-484c) and Thrasymachus (cf., Plato, The Republic, 436b-439a), were the most conspicuous articulators of the values-powers connection in philosophy. According to them, values are inseparably linked with powers. They saw it as natural and true, both amongst humans and animals, that the stronger impose the criteria of what is good or bad (or what is right or wrong) upon the weaker. Additionally, the stronger do not need any external justification of their actions. Although, in the human narrative, we can speculatively vindicate our domination of others by indicating that God is on our side, that our deeds accord with Nature, and that such a state of things takes place in the interest of the people. Nevertheless, the victor freely chooses the tone, logic, and style of this verbiage. It was not crucial, whether “the stronger” means the mightier and more influential individuals who curb all the rest, as Thrasymachus suggested, or “the stronger” means the masses that control and influence the singular individuals, as Callicles saw it. In both options, the ousting of one state of things by another does not equal “violation,” in the same way as a tiger does not violate any laws and principles by chasing and killing deer, or the swarm of mosquitoes by driving a lion away.

20

VALUES AND POWERS

From the point of view of “moral philosophy,” we can talk of the Sophists’ immoralism, because they did not recognize the purely ethical factors as the main constituents of the moral laws. Instead, they claimed that what is commonly seen by ordinary people and the moralists as “ethics” or “morality” has a conventional articulation and, consequently, is artificial and untrue. They argued that non-moral factors, such as egoism, vital powers, and self-interest should be seen as the main, if not the exclusive, source of what is seen as ethics. They theoretically vindicated the conviction that “moral” justification comes from the might of the dominator(s). “Might,” as we can now interpret it, means the efficiency to control others and the ability to impose upon them the stronger’s understanding of right and wrong. Accordingly, the more efficiently the dominators’ will is executed, the more persistent and consequent the moral laws are. Another articulation of the relation between values and powers in Greek thought appears in Aristotle, and it is plausible to refer to his idea of entelecheia (cf., Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1065b-1066a; 1050-1051). According to this idea, every living organism has ingrained potentiality, internal power, and latent possibilities. Under favorable external conditions, these can be actualized, realized, and maximized. The inner activity, proper to the given species and the unique character of the individual sample, is suspended or inhibited until its biological timing and the advantageous set of different factors make it possible for it to develop in its own way. A lack of advantageous eventualities usually stifles the living body and makes its energy dissipate or “push” the organism to grope forward chaotically in different directions. If we agree to translate entelecheia as “perfection” or “completeness” or “purpose,” we could use Aristotle’s concept in philosophical anthropology. Then, we could claim that nature supplies each human organism with an inner power of growth and expansion to be realized fully as the circumstances allow. The vitality of each of them, one by one, tends to develop in their own ways, and gets everything to their advantage (or accommodates if necessary). Passions, dreams, expectations, loves, interests, desires, and hopes (all amplified and/or modified at different ages and successive stages of growth) are justified because they are the natural features of the given organism that can and should be used for its development. In the modern era, the relation between values and powers was also articulated. Thomas Hobbes, in his Leviathan, exposes the role of powers in setting values quite plainly. His concept, according to which “man is wolf to man,” stresses the role of natural forces in shaping the moral aspect of social life. For Hobbes, since egoism, along with biological powers (for example, the vitality and generative laws of nature), lie at the bottom of human actions, these forces have to be respected as constitutive. Instead of fighting against them by means of renunciation or asceticism, as has been practiced in some philosophical and religious traditions, these forces should be curbed by channeling them into the

Introduction

21

operation of a positive mechanism (for example, a social contract), thus making it possible for particular egoisms to cooperate for mutual benefit and concord. Karl Marx’s notion of a struggle between divided and opposite social classes is a crucial point in reflections upon how social life works and how to make it work better. The opposition, conflict, and strife were no less constitutive as the coming revolution that would annihilate social conflicts and class tensions. At any rate, Marx thought that these social powers were essential in making injustice appear as only in the past, and to disappear in the future. Accordingly, ethical concepts of what is right and just have a direct bearing upon the arrangement of social forces, along with the way that social tensions evolve. By linking values and powers in this way, I think, we can see a kind of kinship, although expressed implicitly, between Marxism and some representatives of American pragmatism, especially Mead. However, the essential difference between these can be explained because pragmatism, despite its focus on powers, avoids any sort of totalitarian or despotic character, due to its individualistic dimension. As a result, for American pragmatists, it would not be possible to sacrifice particular lives in the name of some “higher” or “more important” ideas. This is absent in Marxism, and in the terrible consequences of its practical implementation in Communism, which also refers to values and powers. This reveals Marxism’s antagonism towards some groups of people and the meaningless of particular individuals in the context of the social group (or class). Sigmund Freud introduced an internal or psychological dimension to the relation between values and powers. Namely, intensive forces exist in everyone’s psyche that can regulate and, in some situations, control, modify, and determine views of what is good and worthy. Quite often, it happens that even adult and reflective persons are unable to recognize the impact of these hidden forces upon their lives. With the help of an expert, such as psychotherapist, we are able to attain some knowledge of the role of these powers upon our lives and become more conscious of it. On the other hand, society exercises strong pressure upon the individual to accommodate to the habits and norms that need to be observed in public life. Society strictly limits the area in which the agent can publicly express individual wishes, intentions, ambitions, feelings, and emotions. This is why Freud, in Civilization and Its Discontents and elsewhere, describes culture as a form of oppression. This struggle amongst different centers of power constitutes a major portion of convictions and worldviews of the members of the public. It is also the cause of serious frustrations, discomforts, and tensions within individuals. Nietzsche, in his book On the Genealogy of Morals (Prologue, 2), put forward such an understanding of the origin of values as to say that they “grow out of us from the same necessity which makes a tree bear,” and become the “witnesses of one will, one health, one soil, one sun.” As a healthy plant produces healthy seeds, a healthy, strong, and vital man produces noble ideas, affirmative values, and courageous projects. Consequently, Nietzsche’s work (I

22

VALUES AND POWERS

am sketching the interpretation which I call “axiological”), as it refers to values in the first place can be seen as a philosophical message directed not against but for. Its character is not negative but positive, not nihilistic but affirmative, not destructive but constructive. His “attack” on Christian morals and on such “soft” values as mercy, brotherhood, and sympathy was just one part of his philosophical project. The other part, more crucial in my view, appeals to each of us to consider our place in the world, our world of values, our hierarchies of goods, and our way of promoting this to the world. Nietzsche did not just want to destroy the accepted status of values, but to “revaluate” it. He wanted to rethink the valuesness of the values, and give them new meaning. The background of this new meaning was what I would call powers, or that values are the emanation of the strong, the noble, the healthy, and the joyful. Their vitality, their arrogance, their pathos, and their grandeur give them the right to evoke values, to coin ideas, to produce worldviews, and to impose their rights upon others. This is, I think, also the message of Nietzsche’s The Will to Power; that higher man means stronger man and better man at the same time. The particular manifestation of this advantage and how it is implemented into the practice of social life does not matter much in Nietzsche’s works. Foucault, in his idea of bio-power or technology of power, suggested another values-powers connection by showing the dispersive, yet all penetrating, character of forces within society. In this interpretation, it is crucial that the relations of powers in a society make it possible for its members to take it for granted that given situations, deeds, and states of things are morally good and bad. This is the reason why we can claim that powers shape the axiological and normative character of moral life. Consequently, we cannot separate these two, values from powers and powers from values. For example, sexual repression can be seen both as a unique sort of powers (or dominations), or as restrictions that prevent some type of actions from being practiced in some circumstances. Simultaneously, it regulates (or tries to regulate) the understanding of what is good and what is bad in the area of sexuality. To put it differently, a given form of sexual behavior should not take place, and this form of sexual behavior is not good. We cannot say which, of these two, is primary and which secondary. We would be greatly troubled to decide whether this type of behavior should not take place because it is no good, or whether because it is not good that it should not take place. When, for example, we have parental power to execute the realization of the “proper” or “moral” state of things (for example, as regards the sexuality of the teenagers), it would not be possible to state whether this parental power refers to the good that should be materialized first and, then, to the authority of its might. Or, instead, that it refers to its might and later to the good to be achieved. Nor is it possible to state what is genetically prior, I mean, whether it will be the egoistic vital powers of the members of a given group that justify values, or whether the values that justify will be the vital powers of the group.

Introduction

23

Foucault discusses another aspect of the relation between values and powers in The History of Madness where he shows how values and powers were related to the exclusion of different groups of people from societies. Namely, a given group of people (for example, “madmen”) was forbidden access to some goods and, at the same time, was axiologically stigmatized or seen as “lower” or “worse” than other groups in society. Here, powers alone (political, military, institutional, etc.) would not justify depriving them (the “madmen”) of worthiness. It was necessary to make it possible for people at large to see the excluded as those who deserved exclusion, and that they were denied their rights for good reasons. Another aspect of the same thing occurs in cases where power or domination is not connected with an external imposition of values, norms, and standards by means of brute force. Instead, the agent willingly and voluntarily accepts the external domination. In this case, the agent wants to be in a relationship of subjugation to someone else or to something else (an idea or an obligation). In this context, Foucault described, in The History of Sexuality, the act of confession in the Catholic Church from the point of view of power. He claimed that someone who is ready to confess his or her most intimate affairs reduces himself or herself, from the start, in relation to the power of those whom he or she is ready to express his or her thoughts, sins, and most intimate wishes. 8. Specificity of American Pragmatism in the Context of Values and Powers As regards the specificity of pragmatism in linking values and powers, I would like to briefly demonstrate the following points (the order of enumeration is accidental). Firstly, pragmatism is a philosophy of democracy, and the reference to powers is accompanied by sensitivity to the enlargement of groups and minorities who should have access to all types of goods, ranging from education and social recognition to human rights. The operation of brute force without a context of social good is hardly acceptable, as is speculative reflection on values without reference to powers, natural and social, that could lead to the practical betterment of public life. Secondly, pragmatism is a social philosophy, and pragmatists place much stress upon the impossibility of human beings functioning in isolation. In this way, values have a predominantly social character, and powers operate within a social milieu. Pragmatists do, however, strongly emphasize the use of internal powers or energies of men. Thirdly, pragmatism emphasizes the practical aspect of philosophizing and, in this way, connects philosophy with daily and earthly life. Since the character of social life is active and dynamic, we can say that values and powers should likewise be characterized as active and dynamic.

24

VALUES AND POWERS

Fourthly, in connection to the previous point, we must keep in mind the naturalistic character of pragmatism. If the present book appears to suggest that the relation of values and powers provides a litmus test for how much a given philosophy is pragmatic, then this suggestion only relates to natural (human and environmental) powers. It does not refer to God’s power in creating good things, as religious positions would like it to have, nor to the powers of ideas, as is in idealistic types of philosophies. Fifthly, this connects with another dimension of pragmatism, namely with anthropocentrism, which I mean as a philosophical position that sees human beings as central in the world of values, and views human affairs as pivotal in the history of the world. It should be noted that James, like Aristotle, sometimes compared inner human powers to the latent potentialities of trees. Yet, his anthropocentrism did not allow him to focus seriously upon the non-human powers of animals and plants, not to mention upon the inner powers of objects, like works of art. Sixthly, although pragmatists recognize social tensions, they tend to see values and powers in the context of the harmonization of social life, instead of stressing its internal antagonism, as Marxists tend to do. Pragmatism wants to transcend the differences, clashes, and conflicts in order to use powers to promote values and, at the same time, to see values as vindicating powers. For example, on the one hand, when referring to human energies, pragmatists stress the role of the internal forces in our social life. Yet, on the other hand, they do not neglect the other side, namely, that internal forces are to be used to develop the human condition in a variety of ways, according to man’s needs and interests. Thus, James’ idea of the energies of men, Dewey’s concept of democracy, Royce’s idea of provincialism, Mead’s study of the self’s harmonious accommodation to social life, and Rorty’s idea of solidarity all articulate a unanimous tendency among American pragmatists to understand the human lot in light of universal order and global harmony. Finally, universal order and global harmony are the last features I want to mention here. Pragmatism has a holistic character because its ideas are meant to be applicable to different cultures, different humans, and different situations, without isolating some elements, some contexts, and some groups of people. Let me just note that some scholars would dispute such a re-reading of American pragmatism. For example, Bertrand Russell, in his book Power: A New Social Analysis (1938), claims that pragmatism is a “power-philosophy,” because of the emphasis it puts upon the results of actions (cf. Russell, 1938/2001, p. 204). In my re-reading of the texts of American pragmatists I disagree with views like this, and argue that in pragmatism values, along with powers, have always played an elevated role.

Part One PROTO-PRAGMATIC APPROACH TO VALUES AND POWERS

One A PRELUDE TO AMERICAN PRAGMATISM. TRANSCENDENTALISM AS “THE POWER OF THOUGHT AND OF WILL” Transcendentalism, like pragmatism, is originally an American movement that has gained a global reputation. Both distinct and unique, transcendentalism and pragmatism deserve separate attention and singular appreciation. Their origin and significance have led to many collocations and comparisons. I do not want to prejudge whether their relation should best be described as succession, as evolution, as similarity, or as affinity within the tradition of American thought. Instead, I claim that transcendentalism paved the way for pragmatism’s better formulation of some issues, including the approach towards values and powers. My point of departure assumes that transcendentalism cannot be reduced to pragmatism or proto-pragmatism, though its approach to values and powers can be seen at certain points as proto-pragmatic. I argue that Ralph Waldo Emerson’s thought, especially in its later period, and Henry David Thoreau’s, especially where his thought relates to political philosophy, offer a sort of prelude to the attitude of American pragmatism towards values and powers. 1. Emerson’s Proto-Pragmatism in the Context of Values and Powers Transcendentalism should not be reduced to a pragmatic or proto-pragmatic meaning, because to do so would ignore or marginalize other un-pragmatic aspects of the transcendentalists’ philosophical message, which are not pragmatic in any sense of the term. This includes the literary and poetic side of transcendentalism, which is so significant and attractive. Also, it is not methodologically possible to treat transcendentalism and pragmatism in the same way, or to expect the same level of theoretical elaboration, profoundness of intellectual insight, and range of social impact. Transcendentalism does not equal pragmatism in terms of speculative sophistication, systematic analyses, or coherence of its viewpoints. On the other hand, pragmatism does not equal transcendentalism in terms of poetic sophistication, emotional coloring, or vividness of imagination; many unique features of the first cannot be met in the second. If we take a brief look at Emerson’s output, we will notice that he was, in the first instance, a poet and a man of letters, and not a professionally trained philosopher. He lacked an accurate recognition of the problematics of the history of philosophy and the intricacies of the main philosophical sub-disciplines. Instead, his form of expression was more poetic and literary than scien-

28

VALUES AND POWERS

tific and philosophical, more emotional and visionary than speculative, more impressionistic than logical, more spontaneous than methodological, and more personal than objectivistic. Instead of a systematic reference to given philosophical issues, Emerson offers impressions and intuitions. Instead of discussions about the role of any given philosopher, he provides, as in Representative Men, sketchy pictures of Plato, Michel de Montaigne, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and others whom he sees as leaders, sages, authority figures, and great men. Instead of solutions, Emerson gives us a personal worldview. In my opinion, this does not rule him out as a philosopher, nor does it exclude transcendentalism from philosophy. Instead, these factors make Emerson a crucial representative of literary philosophy. What I term “literary philosophy” is a long and significant tradition in Western humanistic thought, which has been co-created by men of letters, authors, thinkers, and philosophers, including: Kohelet, Marcus Aurelius, Lucretius, St. Augustine (in Confessions), Dante Alighieri, Montaigne, Goethe, Fyodor Dostoyevski, Frederick Nietzsche, Miguel de Unamuno, Albert Camus, Emile Cioran, and Witold Gombrowicz, to name just a few. Although this tradition is literary, in the way of expressing thoughts, philosophy adds significant and even crucial substance to the literary presentation of thoughts and ideas. This is why the literary character of the output of the representatives of transcendentalism should not be an obstacle to viewing it as a distinct movement to be studied and compared, if needed, with other movements, more or less akin to it, such as pragmatism. With regard to pragmatism, some significant elements and plots of Emerson’s thought converge with pragmatism or had a pragmatic character. Though some elements are not pragmatic whatsoever, pragmatists discuss and/ or refer to these elements more or less profoundly while constructing their views. The formulation of issues by Emerson (and Thoreau) paved the way for a more systematic formulation of the same or similar issues by William James and John Dewey, and instilled the second with a feeling that they referenced some elements of an established American tradition in their works. In this sense, Emerson (and Thoreau) can be usefully considered proto-pragmatic. What are these plots, then? Emerson prioritizes practical problems in the context of a good and earthy existence over speculations about theoretical issues. Also, he stresses the importance of activity, of action, and of doing things. For instance, in “The American Scholar,” he claims that the “active soul” is the only valuable thing in this world. Next, he has a concern about social issues, including the role of community, democracy, and civilization. The arrangement of the title of his book Society and Solitude suggests that the social aspect of life precedes the individual, contradicting widespread opinions of Emerson as a herald of individualism. Fourthly, Emerson’s holism or universalism (his willingness to embrace “genius” or “great” men in terms of their qualitative equipment, without much reference to national, class, sectarian,

Prelude to American Pragmatism

29

or elitist background) sets a standard for human excellence in general, not aristocratically for a limited group of people. Fifthly, Emerson’s frameworks for the individual in the perspective of selfreliance, humanism, and optimism, are more or less the same frameworks that were natural to James and other pragmatists in later years. Sixthly, Emerson foreshadows James’s meliorism every time he puts forward the idea of transcending human limitations towards fuller and better fulfillment in the context of a qualitatively higher level of life for all people. Seventhly, Emerson, as Dewey once wrote, was the philosopher of democracy (Dewey, 1903, pp. 405-413) who recognized the huge role of the equality of men in society based on a moral ground, and on equilibrium of individual powers. This tendency to reduce the possibility of oppression of some people by others finds a similar articulation in pragmatic thought. Eighthly, his recognition of the role of experience resembles pragmatist efforts to show how experience is allimportant in human life. Ninthly, Emerson perceives a tension between unity and variety that foreshadows the pragmatic focus upon the idea of pluralism. Tenthly and finally, Emerson’s anthropology resembles pragmatism in regard to anthropocentrism and the claim of the autonomy of man. As we can read in Representative Men, man is the center of nature, a claim that Emerson makes more evident in the middle and later period of his intellectual activity. Without ignoring or disrespecting all these factors and influences, carefully studied by authors mentioned in the Introduction, I will presently take into consideration Emerson’s predilection to see values and powers as mutually and strongly linked in men and in society. 2. Emerson: “All mental and moral force is a positive good” In Emerson’s works, there exist places that explicitly articulate a pragmatic way of thinking about values and powers. A representative statement, taken from the first part of Representative Men (and which appears in the title of the present sub-chapter), convincingly expresses his claim that mental and moral forces as such, should be seen as value. A question for further investigation in his system of thought would be what these forces exactly are. Roughly, though, we may presume that mental forces include reason and imagination, and moral forces include courage and a sense of justice. Other questions for further investigation might include: whether the force and the good are two separate modes of being, or they constitute one uniquely merged quality; whether any force is good; or whether any force can become good when operating in certain conditions, according to certain rules, and when leading to good aims, not bad ones. According to Emerson, the exercise of mental and moral force is, at the same time, the exercise of positive values. He sees all human efforts made in the name of the realization of some positive state(s) of things as valuable or potentially valuable. I define this type of attitude towards values and powers as

30

VALUES AND POWERS

proto-pragmatic, because pragmatists would pronounce the same in a characteristic way later on. The close collocation of values and powers in Emerson results from his general view of Nature, according to which her fertility, vitality, dynamism, and generative capacity should be appreciated much more than anything else. The inner energy of beings by means of which, or perhaps through which, Nature’s growth manifests itself everywhere in the evolving world, has itself a positive character and is valuable. From an ontological point of view, Emerson built his understanding of the relation between values and powers partly upon the philosophical and metaphysical background of naturalistic vitalism. This appreciation of natural energies in transcendentalism has both a materialistic and naturalistic dimension. I do not underestimate the other, no less significant, neo-Platonic part of the ontological background of Emerson’s thought, more detectable in the earlier period of his career. This part of Emerson’s ontological background, with the conviction that Spirit animates Nature, was pronounced in “Nature” and “The Transcendentalism.” Interestingly, while discussing about values and powers in Emerson, it is not necessarily to divide his output into two: a more idealistic early stage and a more naturalistic later stage. Both stages express the appreciation of values and powers quite strongly. Emerson writes, in “Power,” that “[a]ll power is of one kind, a sharing of the nature of the world” (Emerson, 1860/2006, p. 28). This stresses, according to his “naturalistic idealism” (if such a term can be used here), sympathy and unity with the generative powers of nature, while referring to the metaphysical idea that positive powers constitute the nature of the world. Despite a little change in attitude to Nature, both stages of his development recognized the powers of Nature and the positive and appreciative character of these powers. Always, man and his or her powers is significant and crucial irrespective of the anthropological question of the exact status of man in Emerson; whether man is a part of Nature (naturalism); whether man at bottom is a spiritual being (idealism); or whether Emerson spoke about Will, Mind of Divinity, Spirit, Oversoul, and universal law (cf., Castillo, 2007, p. 94). Throughout his career—for example, in “Nature” (1836), in Representative Men (1850), and in Society and Solitude (1870)—Emerson suggested that man is naturally supplied by the generative powers of Nature to grow, develop, exploit, and expand his or her potentialities. Everywhere, in each company (we can read in “Power”) we can talk of the “sex of mind,” which is “the inventive or creative class of both men and women, and the uninventive or accepting class” (Emerson, 1860/2006, p. 29). This is the most basic division of people as regards the practical, if not pragmatic, aspect of life. I stress this because it highly resembles William James’ division between the strenuous and the easygoing; in both philosophies, the emphasis put upon human creation and human activity is constitutive. “There is always room for a man of force, and he makes room for many” (ibid.), continues Emerson, and he goes on to indicate the positive and educational sides of strife that make it possible for others to profit

Prelude to American Pragmatism

31

from the good that has been done in the name of creation, and to follow the example of those men of force and do or try to do the same. Everywhere, Emerson sees the space for values and powers, and in this he suits the definition of values suggested in the Introduction where agents, objects, and states of things can be viewed as those that can be of a better quality, a higher level of intensity, or a stronger center of influence or inspiration on others. According to the definition of values in the Introduction, each and every moment is sufficiently appropriate to measure the scale of worth and the powerfulness of this worth. In a similar sense, Emerson suggests, at nearly every moment a rivalry of values emerges when two or more agents meet. At school, during travel, even amongst animals connected with husbandry, when a new brute is introduced, “there is at once a trial of strength between the best pair of horns and the new comer” (ibid.). “The best pair” illustrates a constant wrestling of values in different constellations. Rivals either confront their values, as in the just quoted sentence, or, if we think of a different context, the valuable states of things are recognized and seen as better and worse. Also, we can think of objects that can be modified, perfected, seen as masterpieces, and perceived as the best possible. On the other hand, Emerson’s claim that “[p]hysical force has no value, where there is nothing else” (ibid., pp. 34-35) stresses the relevance, if not the necessity, of value as a regulative factor or a point of reference that makes the use of this force positive and worthy. Like pragmatism, where the use of brute force is never accepted, Emerson only justifies its use by the values in the name of which force operates. In pragmatism, as in transcendentalism, two most conspicuous forms of this appear. The first form is melioration or the moral improvement of the world in the name of good. The second, not without corresponding to the first, is success or making life more satisfactory. This can be achieved when, for example, the implementation of some commodity assists the development of some state of thing, and, thus, increases the level of comfort of living for some people. To restate, Emerson always justifies the use of force when it generates good and success. If we take a look at Emerson’s “Success,” we will see that the Americans exemplify his sense of pride in humans. The thrive of the American people, especially in the area of the geographical conquest of the continent and technological inventions, makes it possible for Emerson to explain how men can convert natural energy into great achievements and wonderful inventions. It should be noted, that he highly appreciates inventors, not the inventions. Later in the text, he warns readers of the danger of paying too much attention to the use of technology at the cost of internal development and spiritual insight: Our American people cannot be taxed with slowness in performance or in praising their performance. The earth is shaken by our engineries.1 We 1. “Enginery”: instruments of war.

32

VALUES AND POWERS are feeling our youth and nerve and bone. We have the power of territory and of sea-coast, and know the use of these. We count our census, we read our growing valuations, we survey our map, which becomes old in a year or two. Our eyes run approvingly along the lengthened lines of railroad and telegraph. We have gone nearest to the Pole. We have discovered the Antarctic continent. We interfere in Central and South America, at Canton, and in Japan; we are adding to an already enormous territory. Our political constitution is the hope of the world, and we value ourselves on all these feats (Emerson, 1870/2008, p. 179).

This quotation is, I think, a representative combination of the ideas of values and powers in the context of the problem of success. I stress this because it corresponds to the problem of accumulation of values (as presented in the Introduction), the ways in which values are aggrandized or collected and whether the aggrandizement is seen as positive, not negative or indifferent. If, say, territorial expansion is seen as the success of a given nation, it means that the aggregation of successive pieces of land is seen as development, worth, and success. This stands despite the point of view, of, say, confirmative model. According to this position, territorial expansion is not good. On the one hand, it rearranges or changes what it already has, and, on the other, it annexes or appropriates a foreign land from others. In the “spirit” of pragmatism, in “Success” Emerson is fascinated: by the (growing) controlling powers of his compatriots over Nature; by his motherland’s (rapid) expansion over other lands; by the (dynamic) increasing numbers of his nation; by the technological progress of his country; by the achievements of the American people in (peacefully) conquering the whole globe; and by the United States giving hope to all other peoples on earth. Emerson’s assessment of the worth of this increase of variegated powers would be suspended if a strong conviction had not been taken for granted. Namely, Emerson assumes that territorial expansion matters, that the census matters, and that technological progress matters in making the American Nation better. Pragmatists will later make exactly the same kind of assessment. The success of the Americans, according to Emerson in the previous quotation, is that they have excelled all others in transcending inertness and inaction along with limitations, obstacles, and setbacks. Americans have achieved this while aiming at noble targets, multiplying worthy things, and developing valuable states of affairs. This is why, in the later part of “Success,” Emerson criticizes the execution of powers in some situations and contexts lacking any axiological and melioristic dimension of the use of powers. Emerson rejects the “shallow Americanism,” as he calls it, which “hopes to get rich by credit, to get knowledge by raps on midnight tables,” to get skills without study or “mastery without apprenticeship,” and to get “power through making believe you are powerful” (ibid., p. 183). Later on, this became a huge concern of the American pragmatists, in particular James and Dewey, who sought to make people aware

Prelude to American Pragmatism

33

of the dangers of industrial capitalism, which, with its rush for more and more, made it unnecessary for people to preoccupy themselves with the humanistic and spiritual dimension of human development. Emerson resembles James when he writes that “[i]t is enough if you work in the right direction” (ibid., p. 185). They both search for the balance between work, effort and powers on the one hand, and, on the other, valuable aims, worthy things and satisfactory actions, in the name of which the energy should be used. This quest for balance cannot be ignored by all those who would like to indicate the role of powers, without the accompanying role of values, in these philosophies. Or, just the opposite, the quest for balance cannot be ignored by those who would discuss values without thinking of any sort of powers that would make it possible for the values to be implemented into social life. This balance can be found by practice, by training, and by the indisputable role of education. Emerson expresses Dewey’s most central concern, as regards education, when he states: “[t]o awake in man and to raise the sense of worth, to educate his feeling and judgment so that he shall scorn himself for a bad action, that is the only aim” (ibid., p. 195). The significance of education for the recognition of good aims and the moral and mental forces most suitable for achieving them is only one part of this project. The other part is the unique method of reaching it, and the different ways that we look at things and perceive them. Santayana once wrote of Emerson that he “differed from the plodding many, not in knowing things better, but in having more ways of knowing them” (Santayana, 1957b , pp. 218-219). It is true that for Emerson sensibility is located at the top of the scale of human powers (cf., Emerson, 1870/2008, p. 186). The development of sensibility and sensitivity serves best in the enlargement of appreciation. If we examine education from this point of view, we can see that learning would not mean merely collecting the knowledge of different things, or aggrandizing portions of information on different things and states of things. Instead, the process of learning would predominantly mean training to look at things and the state of things in a more penetrating way. Learners would discover unexplored aspects, seeing things from new angles, gaining new types of experience by dealing with problems, so that “[t]he world is enlarged for us, not by new objects, but by finding more affinities and potencies in those we have” (ibid., p. 190). The emphasis that Emerson places upon the significance of culture and cultural achievements has been, until now, quite a strong voice in American thought for promoting something much more than economic success. Accordingly, it is reasonable to claim that Emerson’s transcendentalism “was an attempt to rescue man from nature and reestablish his spiritual character” (Flower/Murphy, 1977, p. 402). On closer inspection and more profound rereading, I dare to risk that this takes place because Emerson thought that culture and spirituality, overall, give the individual more powers than business. This is suggested in the ending of “The American Scholar,” which describes business

34

VALUES AND POWERS

in terms of “drudges” and “distrust.” “The remedy” to the plight of business, according to Emerson, was cultural life. Culture and spirituality could make life become richer, fuller, and stronger. From this viewpoint, we can agree with scholars and readers—such as, Wendell Holmes who once wrote of Emerson’s work, and Stanley Cavell, in Emerson’s Transcendental Etudes (cf., Lastra, 2004, pp. 9-10, 13-19)—who characterize “The American Scholar” in particular, and Emerson’s writing (and also Thoreau’s) in general, as America’s manifestoes of independence. The power of expression of thought and of will, in the way that they are autonomous, manifests the values of American people. 3. Great Men as Humans of Power and Worth While studying Emerson’s view on culture and cultural achievements, I have doubts whether he refers to the intellectual climate of past masters about whom he writes with admiration, such as Plato and Goethe, or if he admires them in the same way that he admires Napoleon. To put it differently, we can ask whether he cultivates the cultural equipment of man, or whether he cultivates powers in man that can be had by means of cultivation of culture. In “The Transcendentalist,” I wish to pay special attention to the idea that “genius is the power to labor better and more availably” (Emerson, 1842). According to this anthropological, social, and normative position, geniuses are equipped with more power than others. As I understand it, these enormous portions of internal capacities should be used to develop latent potentialities and stimulate inner energies in the direction of the betterment of the world, and the more the powers have been actualized and realized, the better quality his spiritual and intellectual work will have. The cultivated, trained, and educated man is stronger, better, and freer in different ways. The idea of “self-trust” is a crucial factor here. Discussions of the greatness of men inseparably include axiological criteria of excellence and superiority, although Emerson does this without technical language or methodological rigor. In the introductory part of Representative Men (“Uses of Great Men”) Emerson describes his search for the people who are “intrinsically rich and powerful.” This richness and this powerfulness have instrumental and pragmatic meanings, because on having gained these virtues, “a man seems to multiply ten times or a thousand times his force” (Emerson, 1850). Or, from the other side, “[t]he imbecility of men is always inviting the impudence of power” (ibid.). All of the representative men that Emerson discusses were men of huge influence and importance, having the power of authority upon others. These powerful men included: in the area of philosophical thought, Plato and Montaigne; in the area of military conflicts, Napoleon; in the area or religion, Swedenborg; and in the area of the arts, Shakespeare and Goethe. Amongst the “services,” as we know from the text, they could offer to others: “material or metaphysical aid; ”health; “eternal youth;” “fine senses;” “the arts of healing;” “magical power;” “prophesy;”

Prelude to American Pragmatism

35

“wisdom;” a higher consciousness of the possibilities; standards of “immovable quality;” and reliable assurances on different matters. In Emerson’s work, the societal character of the greatness of individual men resembles pragmatic thought in all places where compatibility and correspondence between these two dimensions is indicated, and where individualism is not isolationistic or atomistic. When Emerson discusses geniuses and the greatest men separately, their contribution to the welfare of a given society is copiously presented. For the “poor,” the great people can be the resource of knowledge and experience as to how to behave prudently in life. The great show how to escape the traps and complexities of ordinary existence, so that “with the great, our thoughts and manners easily become great. We are all wise in capacity, though so few in energy. There needs but one wise man in a company and all are wise, so rapid is the contagion” (ibid.). The power of a great man lies, firstly, in his or her ability to see and conceive things that other, ordinary people are unable to see and conceive. Great men see more and deeper, which allows them to better perceive the world as it is, and avoid the human illusion, common opinion, and speculation about what it might be. Secondly, great men have a better knowledge: of how to convert ideas into practice; of how to set aims and make them realizable in social life; of how to encourage other people to be ready to follow these aims; and of how to animate them to feel responsible for setting other, no less significant, targets themselves. Thirdly, the formation of people’s characters contributes to the powers of a great man. A great man constantly works with the internal part of his or her equipment to become self-disciplined, persistent, dedicated, reliable and selfconfident in his or her ideas, convictions, and opinions. A great man has an advantage over people who are unable to train their characters in this way because, in the moment of confrontation or facing obstacles, they (the others) may not be able to overcome their views and ultimately give up. Fourthly, a great man gains strength from trusting himself or herself in the same way as a creator of ideas is more powerful than the follower of ideas who takes them over without co-creating their meaning. In this, great men can be masters and stimulate to a similar effort those who are ready to do it. Here we see the educational aspect of the exemplary stance of great men and the influence that they can have on others. Fifthly, a great man is more free than others, because he or she can direct his or her life more independently than those who do not realize the complexity of things and the degree of involvement in social and biological dependencies. The power of thought, so pronounced by Emerson in different places, deserves special attention since it has special significance in light of a possible re-defining of values. The power of thought, or the powers of thought, since we can reasonably talk about different faculties in man, make(s) man stronger in the sense of man’s recognition of his or her place in the world. Instead of

36

VALUES AND POWERS

groping, he or she tries to fix his or her role and position in it. In recognizing the world of values, one must decide: what is crucial and what is less crucial; what should be done and what should not; what is good and what is bad; what is beautiful and what is ugly; and/or what is useful and profitable. This orientational role of thought can be followed by the cultural role. Emerson stresses many times in his writings that the new generation of Americans have become adult, conscious, and strong enough to re-define the world of values. The power of American thought was strong enough to reconsider its ties with Europe, especially Britain, and no less crucially with its American past (especially as regards the religion of the founding fathers). I find this appeal for reconsideration especially strongly articulated in “SelfReliance,” in the first paragraphs of “Nature,” and in the last paragraphs of “The American Scholar.” Breaking ties with both the past and with foreign nations should not mean rejection and distrust. Emerson suggested that the time had come when Americans should think in their way, to intuit the external reality directly, instead of indirectly. He argued that people should not perceive things by means of tradition or the output of past traditions that, up to that time, had been imposed by Europeans without being rethought and reconstructed to match the needs of American life. Emerson had hardly any doubt that such a need had arisen, and this is his great achievement. Rightly, Emerson is said to have articulated the declaration of the intellectual independence of America. Self-reliance is a state of maturity, in which the recognition of powers accompanies a reassessment of values in the name of which powers can be executed and thought converted into action. Emerson’s great message to his fellow Americans and his foreign contemporaries, for whom America could be exemplary, was to appreciate your place and its fertility with regard to cultural potential, social dynamism, and the power of the tradition. Emerson encouraged people to trust in their way(s) of doing things well, the pride of their community, and the recognition of future aims to be realized. Capturing this maturity requires self-trust as a precondition, but self-trust requires strength as a precondition to enable you to be ready to trust yourself instead of relying on someone, or something, else (whether traditions, customs and/or social conventions). Referring to Emerson more generally, we can say that a nation or any other group becomes sufficiently mature and powerful, at some point in its social development, to start to refer to its own self-identification as the main source. Also, inside this nation and group, after some time there appears a new generation that has the right to re-read the holy scriptures of its tradition, to rethink the basics of its culture, and to re-consider the axioms of the ways of a noble and worthy life. I believe that, in Emerson’s view, such a revaluation is always justified when a new approach is born from old issues, not just when a new issue or a new problem appears. This is a main trigger in the background of the present work. A constant redefinition of values, which does not mean change since redefinition can result

Prelude to American Pragmatism

37

in a confirmation of the present state, should be attempted, and Emerson articulated this challenge. This alone offers a wonderful example of the universality of his thought and another reason why he should be studied not just by future generations of Americans, but also by all other peoples. His visionary, instead of systematic, way of seeing and uttering ideas does not preclude us from taking from him the encouragement and hints needed to complete the job. 4. “The individual as a higher and independent power” in Thoreau Henry David Thoreau wrote about government and political institutions in a quite concrete, practical, and individualistic way. In my view, he usually wrote in the context of the common good, although I agree that he chose, on some occasions, to live his life “sadly removed from the social world of other human beings” (Tauber, 2001, p. 222). This strongly pronounced individualism differs greatly from the positions of other influential nineteenth-century thinkers, Hegel in the first instance. Thoreau mainly resembles the pragmatists due to his emphasis on concrete social contexts and the particular plight of a given citizen trapped in an institutional net of impositions, which is also his general calling within political philosophy. He saw the individual as man first, and later as a subject and an object in the net of tensions amongst different centers of power, especially in relation to the state. Consequently, he perceives man in terms of practical not theoretical problems, daily life not eschatological, and concrete not abstract existence. Thoreau has the sense that particular humans should decide about their lot, and the name in which they want to devote it. At the same time, Thoreau, like the American pragmatists after him, does not propose axiological isolationism and does not want to give the individual the decisive voice as regards the shape of public life. Thoreau’s individualism is not anarchism, both morally and axiologically, and this was also common with the pragmatists. The emphasis that Thoreau puts upon the moral obligation to do something when the government commits a wrongdoing, links him with the pragmatic “spirit” of activism and having practical responsibility for the shape of public life. The idea of moral holidays, on which James wrote with conviction, shows us the danger of leaving the responsibility for public affairs to someone else to perform, and accords with what Thoreau wanted to express. Also, he suits the general thesis of the present work that the use of powers must be assisted by taking values into consideration. Thoreau’s main tone follows the non-violence approach, but some of his works (for example “Slavery in Massachusetts”) almost see the use of violence as legitimate. Like James after him, Thoreau shifts the center of power from institutions to living people, and the same shift takes place as regards values. Values that the people recognize, and the proper recognition of values by people, should count in the first instance. Values that institutions represent are too abstract and too vulnerable to manipulation, which cannot guarantee their authenticity and truth,

38

VALUES AND POWERS

in the name of which the institutions should work. One of the final claims of Thoreau’s “Civil Disobedience” reads: There will never be a really free and enlightened State until the State comes to recognize the individual as a higher and independent power, from which all its own power and authority are derived, and treats him accordingly (Thoreau, 1849, 3, Pt. 19). Thoreau articulates the same concerns about the relation between the individual and the body politic later voiced by those representatives of pragmatism who were most vocal as regards political philosophy issues, and here I am thinking of James, Dewey, and Richard Rorty. I do not claim that they shared the same intuitions and that they proposed the same solutions. Without any doubt, they tried to find a place for man in the political system where his or her most natural powers and most fundamental values could constitute a grounding for the political system to operate and provide its ultimate vindication (also in values and powers). In my opinion, democracy, as Thoreau took it and as the pragmatists have understood it, is (or should be) the system whose most basic justification is a reference to those human powers and to those human values that everyone either possesses or can possess, not by some privileged group of people at the cost of others. The pillars of such a system are the citizens united in the idea of maximizing their internal strengths in achieving their moral aims, and the institutions of the state cannot obscure this. On the contrary, such effort should be appreciated and supported by the operating institutions. In the above quote, we read that individual power is higher, which means that in moral terms the individual should be seen as elevated and privileged in the face of the power of institutions of the state. Pragmatists also share Thoreau’s attitude towards political institutions as regards the place of man and citizen in relation to political power (be it the government, the state, and the institutions of political life). In my view, this problem constitutes the main tension in the political thought of pragmatism. On the one hand, we have quite strong individualistic, independent, and liberal tendencies. Yet, on the other, we have democratic, pro-social, and communal tendencies. More exactly, individual values need recognition and limits, which was the main concern of such thinkers as Dewey and Rorty. For example, both Thoreau and the pragmatists were concerned with the problem of the extent of liberty, while avoiding anarchy. Both suggested limits to liberty and both were aware that such limits could not be sharply and finally outlined.

Two CHARLES S. PEIRCE’S PRAGMATICISM AND THE REVALUATION OF THINKING ON VALUES AND POWERS Charles Sanders Peirce’s pragmaticism is the corner stone of the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. Peirce was the “stimulant” of pragmatism, its “first mover,” and pragmaticism as such deserves separate recognition. Since the present work is devoted to the problem of values and powers in this tradition, I will not detail the similarities and differences between pragmaticism and pragmatism. Instead, I show that Peirce contributed to the problem of values and powers within this tradition by revaluating thinking on values and powers so as to prepare pragmatism to formulate and elaborate the following issues: firstly and ethically, the split between the active and the passive; secondly and anthropologically, the tension between the individual and the social; thirdly and epistemologically, the directness and indirectness of the cognition; and fourthly and ontologically, the question in what sense values are cumulative. I describe these issues as “proto-pragmatic,” because while pragmatists take on these issues their treatment lacks the ontological background or metaphysical basis that is constitutive for Peirce. This ontological background prevents Peirce’s pragmaticism from existing side by side with the pragmatism of William James, John Dewey, George Herbert Mead, and Richard Rorty. I would like to start by explaining this difference a little more. 1. Peirce’s Scholastic Ontology and Philosophy of Values We must not, in my view, underestimate the connection between ontology and values, and Peirce appears to have felt the significance of this connection quite well. He provides us with a succinct articulation of one of the main problems in contemporary debates over values, and offers perhaps the best suggestions about the crisis in philosophy regarding values. Namely, Peirce reveals what is going on in this debate when he explains, in “The Maxim of Pragmatism,” that “there is some ideal state of things which regardless of how it should be brought about and independently of any ulterior reason whatsoever, is held to be good or fine” (Peirce, 1893-1913/1992, p. 142). For the sake of clarity, we can perceive a black and white picture of this discussion (although such bipolarity is often blurred in the practice of philosophizing). On the one side of the debate, we have a quite old tradition, starting with the Pythagoreans, Plato, Aristotle and down to the scholastics. This tradition continues, in modern times,

40

VALUES AND POWERS

with the phenomenologists (Max Scheler, Nicolai Hartmann, and Roman Ingarden) who discuss, in different ways, autonomous, objective, and even absolute values. On the other side of the debate, we have those who deny any possibility of autonomous, objective, and absolute good and beauty, such as the Sophists in ancient times, Michel de Montaigne during the Renaissance, the Encyclopedists during the Enlightenment, and currently the postmodernists and American pragmatists. Since I view Peirce as a pragmaticist instead of a pragmatist, in accordance to his wish (cf., Peirce, 1958-1966, 8, Pt. 205), I should justify this without repeating the argumentation of innumerable works that compare and juxtapose these two systems of thought. My justification assumes a position which, I think, might be called “pragmatic,” and which is hardly compatible with Peirce’s position. That said, my starting point is Peirce’s scholastic realism, along with his idea of the normative sciences, as presented in “Critical Review of Berkeley’s Idealism,” “The Three Normative Sciences,” “The Nature of Meaning,” “The Seven Systems of Metaphysics,” and elsewhere. I do not believe that this starting point is abortive. However, I cannot see how I should overcome, while rethinking the problem of values and their ontological status, the borderline between “the ontological structure of reality,” as Peirce would say, and “the culturally, historically, and vocationally determined widespread convictions and habits of thinking of different communities and the philosophical and artistic visions of different individuals about the ontological structure of reality.” Let me explain. Peirce emphasizes the role of practicality and “the facts of everyday life, such as present themselves to every adult and sane person, and for the most part in every day and hour of his waking life” (Peirce, 1893-1913/1992, p. 146). Following this, I could find myself daily and hourly, deeply and inescapably saturated in a virtual and digital reality, in which it would be difficult to use Peirce’s ontology to adequately grasp its ontological status. I have doubts about the possibility and plausibility of defining any ontological border between the natural and the illusory due to my being profoundly steeped in the cyberspace (and “cybertime”) of surrounding media. Nowadays, it would be impossible to live a social life in the West without television, radio, cinema, CDs, computers, and the Internet. The ontological status of the products of the computer sciences, such as computer viruses, is ambiguous as they struggle for survival as if they were alive. People witness reversible time and rearrangeable space in video productions, and react to the stimulation and provocation of images of the good, truth, and beauty (for instance, in reality shows) as if they were genuine values. Additionally, I am conscious that millions of people accept these constructions and re-constructions as the most authentic reality, the most genuine facts, the most undisputed states of things, and as something truer than anything else. I cannot see any strong arguments that could overcome doubts about the logical structure of this reality or its logically bound relations. I also am unsure

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

41

whether we can divide objects and states of things as mind-dependent and mind-independent. In cyberspace this division, as Peirce puts it, “into figments, dreams, etc., on the one hand, and realities on the other,” does not work at all. He claims that realities “have an existence independent of your mind or mine or that of any number of persons,” and adds that “[t]he real is that which is not whatever we happen to think it, but is unaffected by what we may think of it” (Peirce,1966, p. 80). It does not work in cyberspace, because the computer programmers have created its contents, and, this way, cyberspace and its contents can be seen as mind-dependent. Yet, at the same time, millions of users perceive this as a sort of external reality and accommodate to it as if it were a hard-fact, mind-independent, and objective world. Next, it is difficult for me to accept and promote ontological ideas according to which “[r]eality consists in regularity. Real regularity is active law” (Peirce, 1893-1913/1992, p. 197), unless we are talking about natural laws, since I am strongly sensitive to the overwhelming influence of cultural contexts due to, amongst other things, the rapid processes of Westernization and Americanization of my native culture. Cultural contexts impact the most profound convictions of members of different social groups, which are overpowered by quick and unpredictable changes in the political system and social order. The fundamental reorientation of the mentality of whole societies after the collapse of Communism, along with the immediate rearrangement of their understanding of what is real and what not, can be opposed to the basically stable Western political and social system. The unshakable role of the Western legal system, along with its axiological stability in the first instance, creates a widespread feeling about the static frameworks of the external reality. I do not want to claim that the stability of a given legal system, as it exists in the Anglo-Saxon world, produces metaphysical convictions about the outward world. Instead, I am inclined to think of the huge role of a given tradition (legal, moral, axiological, and educational), especially as regards its stability and unavoidableness, in the widespread convictions amongst the members of the public about what is obvious and what is not. I suspect that a similar instability in Europe, before and during World War I, eased the appearance and growth of irrationalistic, constructivistic, and illogicalistic tendencies of philosophers and artists, the avant-garde in the first place. It is also difficult for me to imagine “the totality of all real objects” (ibid., p. 209), especially in the face of new technological possibilities of biological intervention (cloning, genetic modification, and sex change operation). Similarly, mass media facts, television reality shows, and computer devices (mp3 players, CD players, and many more) make it possible for us to multiply new types and species of living bodies, new objects, situations, and states of affairs whose ontological status is quite different than the Scheherezade that Peirce describes as fiction (cf., ibid.). Namely, the trap is that, unlike the case of a fictitious situation or a state of things that takes place in the arts, where we know its status and we recognize or can recognize its artistic arrangement, in

42

VALUES AND POWERS

the case of virtual reality we do not know and sometimes can never know whether the reality presented is real or fictitious. Very often we believe that something is true whereas it had been construed or arranged. The borderline between the fiction and non-fiction can hardly be detected. In the same way, it is difficult to follow Peirce’s declaration that “I am confined entirely to the unquestionable facts of everyday experience, together with what can be deduced from them” (ibid., p. 210). I have no idea if we can describe television news broadcasts as ontologically real or not. Similarly, we can question the ontological reality of commercial presentations, often of superfluous fakes desired by a host of consumers and under scrupulous multimillion researches in hundreds of scientific laboratories; and of films (documentary or feature) based upon, or in reference to, a true story that become (for example, by means of famous films) an integral part of the true story in the consciousness of millions of people. All this makes it hardly possible for me to deduce anything logically necessary from these facts of everyday experience. I am not sure, again, if it would ever be possible to find out “the unquestionable facts” amongst them at all. Peirce believed in a community of honest investigators who will, sooner or later, approach the truth and come up to the corresponding reality. Many other scholars of the time shared this hope and energizing motif for philosophical effort. For example, Edmund Husserl, in his way, aimed at the realization of his project of phenomenology in the strong conviction that we should do everything possible to reach a certainty in cognition, and without such attempts European culture would suffer from a crisis. However, something significant happened some time after Husserl and Peirce. It is currently hardly possible to ignore the variety of communities, along with their long traditions and strong convictions on sundry matters, and the rights of different individuals and different communities to have a voice in their interpretations and their ways of dealing with things. This is largely the result of the disruptive role of the avantgarde (especially cubism, expressionism, and Dadaism) in the arts, the revolutionary pronouncement of Frederick Nietzsche, the exploration of the unconscious by Sigmund Freud, the dynamic growth of cultural anthropology and other disciplines that deal with different traditions and cultures, and the processes of technologization, globalization, and democratization that have taken place in so many places of the globe. Due, in part, to these changes, it would be difficult for me, again, to follow the claim: “[l]et any human being have enough information and exert enough thought upon any question, and the result will be that he will arrive at a definite conclusion, which is the same that any other mind will reach under sufficiently favorable circumstances” (Peirce, 1966, p. 81). I do not intend to claim that Peirce’s ideas (and Husserl’s) are naïve, old fashioned, and deprived of any meaning for future generations. The growth of interest in Peirce all over the world today would easily contradict that. I merely suggest that a great number of participants in the present debate in philosophy

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

43

have reservations about referring to the ideas and the ontological ground for the ideas to which Peirce (and Husserl) referred. These reservations result, largely, from the “Collapse of the Grand (or Meta-) Narratives,” as explained by JeanFrancois Lyotard in The Postmodern Condition: a Report on Knowledge, as the inability to make the judgments that could be ultimately vindicated on some undisputed epistemic ground and that could represent us all in these judgments. The works of Nietzsche, Freud, and the avant-garde signaled this cognitive crisis, and it was strengthened by the disruptive role of some intellectuals in the terrible wars and conflicts that took place in the twentieth century. Perhaps my suggestion goes too far and is too biased by local affairs. Yet, my suggestion appears validated by the engagement of some intellectuals, including scientists and philosophers, in the justification and support of tyrants, dictators and their atrocities (whether during the Nazi time, the Communist era, the modern Balkan Wars, or the present War on Terrorism where some Muslim intellectuals play an active role on both sides). This justifies, more then ever before, the suggestion that intellectuals, scientists, and philosophers can hardly speak with one voice about values, truths, and aims. Unless, intellectuals work under culturally and politically uniform circumstances on such issues that have a universally social meaning. As just said, I am not criticizing Peirce and I suppose that Peirce himself would, in some cases, agree with me and share my hesitations. I am just stressing that I am unable to find convincing arguments that would defend Peirce’s ontology, as I understand it. For this reason, I do not refer to Peirce’s ontology in the discussion that follows. More crucially, I understand this difference as a basic criterion why pragmaticism, not pragmatism, should be ascribed to Peirce’s philosophy. My present claim is that while talking about any progress and development of any type of values and valuations, we must assume and take for granted a broader context within which a given way of axiological thinking is formed and articulated. This context includes, apart from the question of the ontological status of reality, the materials, elements, parts or fragments that are selected out of reality to be referred to, paid attention to, and chosen as areas of special worth. Sometimes, we search for and find a still broader context within “metaphysical frames,” which are general visions of the universe along with its central points. Therefore, for example, I do not refer to Peirce’s views at this moment, but to “narrower” concepts. If you are happy about the discoveries of natural laws and proud of the constant progress in science, then you must have previously assumed three things at the same time: first, that Nature works according to some predictable rules and constitutes cosmos instead of chaos; second, that human reason instead of, say, (animal) instinct, sympathetic emotion, and artistic imagination embraces the rules according to which Nature works best or most adequately; and third that the truth can be rendered by means of a human language. If these presuppositions were rejected or

44

VALUES AND POWERS

dismissed, then the privileged, special, and elevated place of science in life would be undermined. Also, there would be hardly any reason to claim the superiority of scientific methods over artistic, mystical, magical, and (animally) instinctive methods in dealing with the discovery of Nature, reality, and the universe. Next, if you want to discuss the implementation of any sort of improvement into our social life, you usually assume anthropocentrism, because investigations exclude the social lives of ants and elephants. If you wanted to follow the idea of, say, equal rights for all living creatures to live and thrive in their ways, then the anthropocentric way of axiological thinking would be revised, revaluated, and rearranged completely. The comfort and safety of, say, human families would have to be seen on a par with beavers’ and monkeys’ safety, and any improvements in protection would have to be applied to all families, not just human families. Peirce was quite sensitive to this problem. For example, while writing about the cooperative work of scientists, he did not fail to notice the positive sides of mistakes and productive aspects of failures: ...and thus in storming the stronghold of truth one mounts upon the shoulders of another who has to ordinary apprehension failed, but has in truth succeeded by virtue of the lessons of his failure (Peirce, 1958-1966, 6, Pt. 51). This means that even though we can commit a mistake while conducting an investigation or a study, the experience that we gain grows anyway and, this way, improves us and the community we work and live in. We are richer in information about a given thing, more adequate in understanding its meaning, and closer to the truth. Our knowledge about reality expands, and our understanding becomes wider, deeper, and more complete. Here, the ontological assumption is, roughly speaking, that objective reality can, to some degree, be discovered by thought. If we follow appropriate procedures, we can reach and grasp independent reality; independent from the human mind, from individual visions, and from social imagination. Normative sciences (aesthetics, ethics, and logic) can effectively do this. These sciences can together, not separately in each one’s way, deal with judgments about reality by confronting them in experience. They do not fall into the trap of the subjective interpretation of this world, made by this or that particular mind, in accordance with somebody’s psychological wishes, physiological needs, individualistic impressions, and cultural bias. In this case, “success” (Peirce often writes about the success of experimental sciences and of the lack of success of metaphysics) means that the meaning of things and the knowledge about states of affairs can be had more adequately, more precisely, and more effectively. Now, let me come to the main substance of the present chapter, and show four points in which Peirce can be seen as the thinker who should be re-read in terms of the problem of values and powers.

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

45

2. Praxis vs. Theoria George Santayana once wrote that theory, “a steady contemplation of all things in their order and worth” (Santayana, 1910, pp. 10-11), is an end to philosophical investigation and reasoning. Santayana, referring both to Aristotle’s idea of contemplation and Spinoza’s idea of seeing things sub specie aeternitatis, emphasized the role of imagination and tended to claim that the “philosopher, in his best moments, is a poet” (ibid., p. 11). According to such a stance, the role of experimental sciences in the hierarchy of values would be secondary, as less stress is put upon the definition and delineation of the meanings of terms. Likewise, the call for the verification of the results of thinking would not be of great importance. Additionally, understandings of success would be quite different for the majority of those who promote the experimental sciences (for instance, the positivists with the adherences to their tradition). Success, if used at all, would refer to the internal, spiritual, and intellectual equipment of the philosopher in furthering the understanding of reality and gaining more and more wisdom and a complete vision of the universe along with what is crucial and beautiful. In the same spirit, Plotinus claimed (in The Enneads 1.6.5) that those who cultivate spirituality, uncontaminated by earthly business, can aspire to a higher stage or moral beauty. Similarly, in this context, Montaigne, who lived in the age of the humanistic expansion of the sciences and of the arts, represented (throughout his Essays) the idea according to which a set of actions aiming at personal wisdom should be given the status of progress. For Montaigne, success meant reaching or approaching sagacity, and happiness arising out of a good life should be seen as the very best thing or a state of affairs to be aimed for, independently of the present civilization he lived in, and the communal targets of the present society. His self-closure in his Tower, which became a symbol for the anti-social individualism of European intellectuals, represented a non-American version of a self-made man. A man for whom the Ciceronian type cultivation of one’s mind, instead of anything else, was the sense of life and the substance of success. Roger Bacon initiated, in the Anglo-Saxon philosophical tradition, a way of thinking that emphasized the role of experiment, verifiability, and practicality of results in the conviction that experimental knowledge can make us closer to certainty and truth. Four centuries later, another Bacon, Francis, classified sciences in his Advancement of Learning and, in Novum Organum, presented the idea of “Idols,” anthropological and cultural sources of illusions and false notions, which mislead and deceive practical and technical efforts to make life better. This was a part of his project, the “Great Instauration” as he called it, to elevate the worth of experimental science as a tool necessary for human command over Nature. The first sentence of Novum Organum, articulates the anthropocentric, rationalistic, and practical spirit of his reforms: man is the

46

VALUES AND POWERS

“minister and interpreter of nature” and “does and understands as much as his observations on the order of nature, either with regard to things or the mind, permit him, and neither knows nor is capable of more” (Bacon, 1952, p. 107). Peirce, who refers to both Bacons in “The Fixation of Belief,” frequently describes experimental sciences as successful and metaphysics as backward. The successfulness of the experimental sciences makes it apparently higher and better than metaphysics. For Peirce, metaphysics is meaningless if understood as a discipline that only speculatively and theoretically seeks for the ultimately defined essences of things and states of things irrespective of their links with the daily, popular, and common practice of human life. He calls upon philosophy to follow or “imitate successful sciences in its methods” (Peirce, 1966, p. 40), and praises utilitarianism as a system that more than any other “has wrought so much good in the world” (Peirce, 1893-1913/1992, p. 211). Here, an evaluation has been made, and one type of axiological approach has been put higher than the other. Namely, Peirce elevates active and experiential dealing, something that the Greeks called praxis, with things, events, situations, and facts (pragmata). Simultaneously, Peirce degrades passive contemplation that does not later convert the results of contemplation into a positive action (such as the development of craft and art, techne), something that was traditionally a part of bios theoreticos or theoria (cf., Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics I, 7). I regard the strong articulation of this contrast, along with the articulation of its importance, as the first achievement of Peirce and the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism more generally within the field of the contemporary philosophy of values. Nonetheless, in places Peirce blurs this contrast, due to the complexity of his thought, especially when he appreciates contemplation as the initiative and creative part of power. I think we can claim that, as regards the revaluation of axiological thinking, Peirce can be stimulating in stating the options between what can be called praxis and theoria. Even more crucially, we cannot omit this dilemma during our discussions about values. More precisely, it would be hardly possible to deal with the problem of values without answering the question why practical experience, instead of theoretical wisdom or spiritual concentration, should be the criterion for measuring the truth of notion. Also, in connection with the above, Peirce can be inspirational for others, not necessarily by promoting this view, but by stimulating the questions of why human activity that deals with practical things is called appreciatively “action,” and why human activity that deals with meditation or contemplation is called pejoratively “non-action.” If you rely on experimental science and have hope in scientific development, as Peirce did, then you take for granted the following: that dealing with problems is better than just contemplating them, when this contemplation is not followed by a positive action, especially in techne; that an action is better than renunciation; that activism is better than asceticism; and that inquiry is better than aesthetic insight. If you insist, as Peirce did, that philosophical investiga-

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

47

tion should be focused upon human cognition and take on a shape of experimental sciences necessarily accompanied by verification, then it most probably means that you have strong reservations about the worth of the meditative approach towards the world. By the meditative approach, I mean stopping with the fruits of meditation, instead of starting with them in order to make a difference; it must be admitted, though, that there exist places (“Topics of Vital Importance”) where Peirce elevated the importance of theory. If you propose, as Peirce did in “The Maxim of Pragmatism,” the practical effects (including later action, experience, and thought) to be a criterion of truth, then you must so disregard the activity devoted to contemplation (deprived of action) that you call it non-action and idleness. If you emphasize, as Peirce did in “The Fixation of Belief,” that “almost any fact may serve as a guiding principle” (Peirce, 1966, p. 97) you, willy-nilly, degrade the fact rendered as something to be contemplated and passively understood, as a way leading to personal sagacity and, perhaps, spiritual elevation. From this point of view you can follow Peirce and reinterpret the Biblical maxim (Mt, 7, 20): “by their fruit you will recognize them” (Peirce, 1958-1966, 5, Pt. 465) into an old logical principle for pragmatic thinking that emphasizes the practical consequences of actions and deeds in earthly matters. The maxim means something quite different for the host of followers of the contemplative approach and spiritual attitude who view the past, present and future of the “fruit” in the maxim as “chastity,” “moral perfection,” “easier access to the transcendence,” and a better recognition of heavenly matters. 3. Social vs. Individual Next, Peirce revaluates axiological thinking when he makes the claim that social experience should be trusted more than individual experience, a protopragmatic element in general. This claim can lead to a profound re-orientation in the understanding of values and lead us to think about the conditions, results, and substance of valuations. Philosophers from Socrates through Saint Augustine, Descartes down to the existentialists, Nietzsche, and Santayana frequently posit that the ultimate certainty about reality and about values should be searched for in, or through, individual consciousness, a particular mind, and a single soul. Peirce, in “Some Consequences of Four Incapacities,” was quite definite in rejecting this: “[t]o make single individuals absolute judges of truth is most pernicious (...). We cannot reasonably hope to attain the ultimate philosophy which we pursue; we can only seek it, therefore, for the community of philosophers” (Peirce, 1966, p. 40). Following this position would mean, for example, that we would have to abandon or deflate any reference to values and any attempt at valuation in the name of our individual sense of good, beauty, and truth until it has been confirmed communally. This confirmation would also mean that we should start thinking of values and valuations as social anyway, or else as illusions,

48

VALUES AND POWERS

according to Peirce’s claim that “one man’s experience is nothing if it stands alone. If he sees what others cannot see, we call it hallucination” (ibid., p. xx). The justification for Peirce’s claim about the social, instead of the individual approach towards values and valuations, lies in his ontological presuppositions, and the idea of normative sciences. His ardent faith in the community of scholars is pronounced, as is his faith in the ethics of scientific terminology. Scholars, authentically seeking truth and subordinated to social cooperation, are able to reach truth in the most effective and complete way. Even deprived of the ontological basis of his system of thought, we cannot ignore or neglect the question about the social/individual reference to values and valuations. I think that this problem is still valid in the philosophy of values, understood both as a profound reflection and as a branch of science (axiology). It is a fundamental question whether a given individual has the right and/or competence to propose judgments about values, independently of any social convictions about what is good and bad, beautiful and ugly, or true and false. This is especially true since the philosophical tradition of the West has been strongly permeated with the crucial significance of a single reason, mind, consciousness, and soul while dealing with values (and powers). It is enormously crucial to attempt a more definite answer to this question in this age of globalization and easy transportation where representatives of many types of societies and traditions meet at different places and articulate ways of axiological thinking deeply rooted in many societies. In some societies, it is traditional and customary that authority figures (such as heroes, martyrs, mystics, and leaders) play the crucial role in stating what is and should be good, beautiful, and true. Well-developed social, political, and legal institutions (such as the state, the legal system, the police, free elections, schools and universities, mass media, etc) play a lesser role. By the way, I think that Peirce, like later American pragmatists in general, had some problems with understanding the role of individuals in communities that do not have highly institutionalized and democratized forms of social life or the effective tools for executing and verifying them. For example, when you call for verification of any judgments about anything you—as if automatically, immediately, and irresistibly—undermine the undisputable authority of a hero, martyr, mystic, and leader who had articulated their messages about different states of affairs and their worth. In this way, you question the hierarchical and non-democratic order of such a model of society or community. Let us take a short look at this issue from the point of view of social powers. While talking about values and valuations, we must take into consideration the factor of what social group or groups (such as priests, elders, sages, heroes, scientists, philosophers, artists, geniuses, masses, or educated individuals) is at power or, which is the same in this context, is strongly believed by members of the public as a more or less undisputed authority as regards the view of the basic values of truth, good, and beauty. When Peirce, for example, claims (cf., Peirce, 1958-1966, 6, Pt. 2) that metaphysics is backward because it was too

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

49

heavily influenced by the theologians (understood and accepted by many of those to whom he addressed these words, I mean, members of the Western academic community), it can be retorted that the lamentable shape of Western societies nowadays results from the heavy influence of (lay) scholars. I am sure that many communities (Muslim communities are currently a popular example), where authority rests in theologians instead of in scientists, would feel a sense of distortion, perversion, and frustration while reading Peirce at this point. Theoretically speaking, any choice out of these two options is quite strictly connected with a (re)evaluation of axiological thinking, because it deals with the following problems: what community (for example, scientists or theologians) should be trusted more; what activities (of scientists or theologians) deserve more respect and attention; and what works (for example, scientific treatises or holy books) are more reliable. The factors of social reliability, trust, and respect make a given group or community powerful, as regards co-shaping the axiological, moral, and political condition of society. Let me stress, I do not wish to discuss whether science is right or wrong, or whether logic does or does not represent reality adequately. Instead, I want to ask whether science should or should not be elevated to play a special role in society. Such an act of elevation is itself evaluation, I mean, stating that some types of human activity (for example, science, logic or mathematics) are better or more crucial than the others (for example, theology, morals or salvation). This is the case except when you do your best to mix them up past all recognition, and reduce the first to the second as it was in the Middle Ages, or, just the opposite, reduce the second to the first as it happens in the Modern Age. The problem of authority, understood axiologically, is at stake. It involves social trust, common acceptance, and a widespread conviction about the special role of a given group of agents dealing with a given state of affairs. As regards the problem of the individual, instead of the social, dimension of valuation, we have to distinguish two aspects of this issue. Firstly, we can argue that it is of a social character, anyway, to grant individuals (whether sages, philosophers, artists, thinkers, etc.) the right to talk more or less freely about values, including contesting socially accepted and widespread views as to what is good, true, and beautiful. Basically, there must be a social acceptance that some individuals have a right to voice publicly their individual perspectives of what is good, beautiful, and true, due to their educational equipment, artistic predilections, spiritual insight, or philosophical vision. We are talking about voices that count in public life, not impotent private effusions that no one cares about. In such a public situation, they would articulate not their isolationistic and private ideas, but those of the social group (for example: class, community, nation, etc.) that they belonged to. For example, the vast majority of the philosophers in Europe until the beginning of the twentieth century were educated elites. If Peirce accuses Descartes, in “Some Consequences of Four Incapacities,” that he “teaches that the ultimate test of certainty is to be found in

50

VALUES AND POWERS

the individual consciousness” (Peirce, 1966, p. 39), I doubt whether it is possible (from the point of view of social thought and sociology) for an individual to escape socially construed language, aims, valuations, and methods in order to move to the isolationistic approach. I also doubt whether Descartes meant by “individual consciousness” merely “an individual.” Instead, I suspect, he meant by “individual consciousness,” “an individual consciousness of a humanist, quite well trained in European philosophy, following the newest scientific methodology, and taking for granted the existence of a Christian God.” Regardless of what has just been stated, we can discuss the other, philosophical and theoretical, instead of sociological and practical, dimension of the issue. Namely, what is the correct starting point: the social or the individual? Where should the stress be placed in efforts to find out the truer aspect of values and valuations (and powers)? This largely depends upon the vision of the society we have in mind, and the role of man in it. Roughly speaking, is society a sort of undividable organism of individual members and parts? Or is society a collection or an aggregate of individuals? What is ontologically and axiologically primary: a group or an individual (irrespective of how much an individual being is individual and how much he or she is social)? It is hardly possible to suggest and justify an answer at this point. We would have to present the arguments of thinkers like Hegel who believed that individuals were like cells to the body, and thinkers like Santayana who argued that each individual is the central place in the universe. Yet, one of the greatest of Peirce’s achievements, and later of pragmatism in general is to put this issue quite strongly onto the philosophical agenda, and this can also be seen from the point of view of powers. Peirce was proto-pragmatic in depriving the individual of the power of setting aims and values, and ascribing this power to a community. 4. Signs and the Indirect Cognition of Values Peirce also contributed to the revaluation of axiological thinking, and paved the way for the pragmatists as regards values and powers, in his idea that “[w]e have no power of thinking without signs” (ibid., p. 41). Although, in this respect, we should also credit the arts in the Christian Middle Ages, which had the most elaborate and sophisticated code of symbols and signs in Europe’s culture, and Immanuel Kant along with the neo-Kantians (especially Ernst Cassirer), for their proper place in the history of philosophy. Peirce’s claim about the omnipresence of signs, in terms of his idea of the direct non-cognitive contact with objects (secondness) that he called “immediate experience,” makes a direct access to values much more complex. This indirectness makes values appear to be more distant, from an agent, than was conceived in different conceptions and philosophies before, which emphasized the possibility of reaching the realm of real and true values directly by means of volitional

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

51

efforts, intellectual speculations, and natural needs. It also means a strong reservation about the possibility of an objective or disinterested observer in the philosophy of values. Any clue, any message, and any observation of the world of values (whether dependent or not) can be articulated by means of signs, codes, languages, and symbols. From the point of view of some concepts of values, according to which a relation emerges between an agent and a valuable object or a valuable idea, it becomes difficult to define value (meaning, a valuable agent, living body, act, thing, or state of things) in a situation where this relation is indirect. When we discuss any value or any valuable object, this discussion and this discourse must be rendered in a code, in a language, and in formulas understood by the participants of the conversation or the parties in the process of communication. This gives rise to a huge problem within philosophy concerning values, and, more precisely, within the epistemology of values. Namely, Peirce’s huge contribution to contemporary value inquiries makes us aware of the following questions: do we and can we refer directly to the valuable object, valuable act, and valuable state of things? Or, instead, do we refer directly to the code, the discourse, the language, and the formulas referring to the valuable object, valuable act, and valuable state of things? If no cognition outside of the world of signs is possible, then what we refer to directly is not the object but, instead, the object in its function as a sign. A direct and a full cognition of the given value (the given valuable object, act, state of things, etc.) is hardly possible. We can apply or implement Peirce’s idea to different axiological positions without necessary demolishing the philosophical message of these positions. For example, when we refer to contemplative theories of values, according to which the perception of what is valuable takes place passively and disinterestedly, we do not necessarily have to claim that this perception is direct and immediate. In the spirit of Peirce’s thought, we can claim that access to values, in such theories, is mediated by signs, and the character of the cognitive process does not have to cease to be passive and disinterested. This happened frequently, and medieval aesthetics with its elaborate system of symbols and allegories referring to the outer reality can serve as a good example. Similarly, when we talk about subjectivistic theories of values, which almost reduce values to the subjective experience of values, the very experience can be had, conceived, and understood by means of signs as well. In this, we cannot discuss any reference to the outer reality, and the values we experience have not a cognitive character. When we stay within Peirce’s philosophy, we must not forget the objectivistic and realistic character of his theory of signs. On the ground of his semiotics, each sign refers to an object, and he strongly rejected the psychologistic and physiologistic tendencies of his time, which argued that objects relate to consciousness and/or the biological dimension of the human body. According to Peirce, neither the sign nor the objects were mental constructs. However, if we leave the semiotic ontology of this philosophy and stick to the

52

VALUES AND POWERS

theory of signs, then the way between an agent and a given value becomes enlarged and enormously vulnerable to mis/interpretations. This is especially the case if the interpretation of the sign has a social character and is sensitive to and dependent upon imaginative factors. In this text, I have distinguished between agents (humans and, perhaps, the higher mammals), living bodies (animals and plants), things (objects), actions (deeds and activities), and states of affairs (facts and situations). I would like to avoid getting involved in the presentation of Peirce’s theory of signs, and translating this idea into axiological thinking as understood in the present text. Instead, I would like to follow Peirce’s general idea and claim that many, if not all, agents, living bodies, things, actions, and states of affairs are taken indirectly and partially, both materially and qualitatively. They are represented by something else, also, when a part is taken to represent the whole. As regards agents, we can hardly deal with a given person by different means than that of a language, an image, a function, a name, a nationality, a social status, etc., without embracing all that belongs to this agent and to what constitutes the identity of the agent. The same happens with a good deed or a successful action. To embrace its goodness, or its successfulness, we would have to deal with all its stages of development, the intentions of the participants, and of the overall consequences of the action, which is impossible to do. What we have access to, instead, is a tiny fragment and superficial aspect of the action or the result that he or she calls “good” and “successful.” Even pleasure and happiness is, to large degree, socially and culturally determined. In modern societies, you cannot be satisfied and happy without having a car, a house, a laptop. Many groups, some of which are probably no less or more happy, have not even heard of these things. 5. Are Values Cumulative? Finally, Peirce can be stimulating in those reflections that focus upon the problem of the accumulation of values, irrespective of his ontological premises and taking values in terms of signs or not. The question of the accumulation of values closely relates to the problem of the unity of action, including: moral action, with its melioristic consequences and purposiveness; the sense of the arts, especially as regards the message that the arts offer; and the problem of truth, especially when it should be decided what a given object and state of things really consist of. Peirce’s doctrine of synechism, in which the idea of continuity is the central problem, presents the claim about the unity of normative sciences, and his studies over relations and purposes make it necessary for us to rethink the problem of the accumulation of values in a variety of meanings. In the first instance, we must rethink their unity, their purposive character, and the melioristic dimension of these unities. Many places in Peirce’s writing, including “Search for a Method” and “The Three

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

53

Normative Sciences,” evoke a reflection about how can values be cumulated. In one of the places, Peirce argues: I should say that an object, to be esthetically good, must have a multitude of parts so related to one another as to impart a positive simple immediate quality to their totality; and whatever does this is, in so far, esthetically good, no matter what the particular quality of the total may be (Peirce, 1893-1913/1992, p. 201). At once, the long debated problem of the unity between ethics and aesthetics arises, and the reference to the ancient idea of kalokagathia emerges. Many have discussed the relationship between ethics and aesthetics, beginning with Plato who saw some personages, deeds, deaths, laws, and sciences as good and beautiful. Plato claimed (in Timaeus, 87c) that “everything that is good is fair, and the fair is not without proportion.” Medieval thinkers strongly promoted the unity between the good and the beautiful, and they were followed by Lord Shaftesbury, and nowadays by neopragmatists (for example, by Richard Shusterman) and postmodernists, although the sense of this unity is different. If we pause here and limit ourselves to ethics, the most ardent questions to be answered would be: can one good action, one positive enterprise, and one honest deed be added to the total worth of good actions, enterprises, and deeds that make the world better? Or, instead, are different good actions, enterprises, and deeds like separate atoms in the realm of the good? Or, perhaps, can they be collected up to the realization of a particular target and realized within a particular field, with hardly any further aims and broader areas on the horizon? In aesthetics, we can ask whether a beautiful work of art or a beautiful idea would contribute to the total beauty produced by mankind, or, instead, if this work should be seen as an individual and closed piece without an immediate reference to the external world. We cannot separate the accumulation of values from the problem of powers, and I think that Peirce’s notion of Struggle, as presented in “On Phenomenology” (cf., ibid., pp. 150-151) and elsewhere, can, in some sense, be inspirational, although I realize how much I may go astray in my reinterpretation. I hope that this re-reading will be excused due to my effort to detect a possible stimulation that Peirce’s idea can have outside of Peirce’s thought, in the philosophy of values nowadays. I outline this in the belief that it might make it possible for us to omit or avoid the perplexity of selecting one or some of the models of accumulation of values. Also, it may reveal if we can reach a deeper layer upon which all of models of accumulation could be based or referred to. Thus, when Peirce writes about the Struggle between agent and patient, it is possible to convert it, with benefit to the philosophy of values at large, into the struggle in the area of values. According to the view, the term “powers” (plural) is used when one entity (whether a living body or a group of living bodies, thing(s), and state(s) of affair(s) exercise(s) its potentiality, or potentialities, with or without imposing it upon others. I mean, when it propagates itself,

54

VALUES AND POWERS

thrives, and maximizes its potentiality, with or without dominating others. An accumulation of values would take place whenever the growth of the potentiality of a living body or a group of living bodies, thing(s), and state(s) of affairs would take place, irrespective of the way or the model according to which this is being done. I see hardly any theoretical reason why any model, out of the ones presented in the Introduction, should receive more credibility than others. Personally, I would be at pains to claim an advantage of, say, the melioristic model over the perfective, and/or the pluralistic over the via negativa. The whole issue is significant, though, and it is especially worthy of speculation since contemporary concepts of the philosophy of values, which concentrate upon the different ways of the growth and accumulation of values, lack a reliable idea of the pressure of values or the influence of values between or among different bodies and entities. To sum up, we can claim that values are cumulative, but the way that they are cumulated can hardly be finally and definitely stated. The accumulation can be achieved in different ways, and this accumulation can hardly be exercised without powers that make it possible for a given value to radiate, to grow, and to impose its “valuableness” onto others. I will return to this problem in each of the successive chapters of the present book. 6. Peirce’s Ethnocentrism? The present chapter does not the evoke controversies over Peirce’s culturalism, or its dependence, while formulating the philosophical views of Peirce, on the American or Western context (social and religious). Yet, when we examine his definition of the university, this can be done with ease. Namely, for Peirce, the university is: An association of men for the purpose of study, which confers degrees which are acknowledged as valid throughout Christendom, is endowed, and is privileged by the state in order that the people may receive intellectual guidance, and that the theoretical problems which present themselves in the development of civilization may be resolved (Peirce, 1966, p. 331; bold-faced type mine). This can give support to the claim that Peirce’s points of departure are Western and modern ideas of progress, state, and civilization along with anthropocentrism, rationalism, intellectualism and the pivotal position of science. In “The Seven Systems of Metaphysics,” Peirce confirmed this view: “[i]n the light of those successes of science, to my mind there exists a degree of baseness in denying our birthright as children of God and in shamefacedly slinking away from anthropomorphic conceptions of the Universe” (Peirce, 1893-1913/1992, p. 193).

Charles S. Peirce’s Pragmaticism

55

I do not evoke Peirce’s culturalism, or, as Rorty would have called it, his ethnocentrism, because in my view Peirce’s contributions go beyond cultural differences and can be implemented regardless of time and location: he contributed to breaking down static visions of values in favor of dynamic; he emphasized the linkage between values and action; and he promoted the idea of breaking the Cartesian type of division between cognizers and the cognized that, as regards values, undermines the dualism between evaluating agent and evaluated object. Peirce’s philosophy expresses, in my view, crucial tendencies of contemporary thought: in the philosophy of values; in semiotics; in the theory of cognition; in social thought, and in aesthetics. His contributions cannot be ignored in the present debates.

Part Two PRAGMATIC APPROACH TO VALUES AND POWERS

Three THE AXIOLOGY OF PRAGMATIC METAPHYSICS. THE POWERS OF MEN IN WILLIAM JAMES Despite William James’ reservations about the use of brute force, his works quite frequently use a militaristic terminology while presenting a variety of moral and axiological issues. He writes about these issues consciously, purposely, and in constant reference to the real powers operating in man and outside of him or her. By this, I mean energies activated and channeled into the realization of good aims. I claim that James saw values and powers as mutually inter-connected, mutually necessary, and as exercising a constitutive role in human life, understood morally and socially. 1. Values and Powers in James’ Metaphysics Josiah Royce, James’ friend and colleague at Harvard’s Department of Philosophy, noted in The Philosophy of Loyalty that James was a proponent of a philosophical position that itself was based upon a metaphysics, which referred to the eternal character of terms and notions, despite James’ declarative anti-metaphysical stance and strong reservations about a search for eternally defined essences. Royce wrote: For Professor James’s pragmatism, despite its entertaining expressions of horror of the eternal, actually does state one aspect of eternal truth. It is, namely, eternally true that all search for truth is a practical activity, with an ethical purpose, and that a purely theoretical truth, such as should guide no significant active process, is a barren absurdity (Royce, 1908/1995, p. 151). If Royce is correct, which he definitely is in my humble opinion, then we can say that James’ thought did not reject metaphysics in general, but sought to replace one type of metaphysics (classic) with another (pragmatic). As regards my approach toward the issue, I focus in a more detailed way upon James’ metaphysical idea of, as Royce put it, “practical activity with an ethical purpose,” in the context of values and powers. With this problem in mind, I reread James’ “Great Men and Their Environment,” “The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life,” “The Will to Believe,” “The Energies of Men” (also titled “The Powers of Men”), “The Moral Equivalent of War,” and I do not forget his most famous books.

60

VALUES AND POWERS

In the light of all these works, I claim that he unavoidably sees powers as quite closely related to values for two reasons. Namely, without a reference to powers it would be nearly impossible to talk about the practical transformation of individuals and/or about the factual melioration of the social life in order to make them better, according to the presupposed ethical aim(s). Also, without a reference to (human) powers it would be hardly possible to talk about the effective tools by means of which the practical betterment of the world could take place. Powers, in their variety, are the decisive voice as regards what option should be chosen while facing the conflict between incommensurable hierarchies of values and divergent systems of values. The pre-condition of this reference to powers is that they operate in the name of values, I mean, in the name of different (clashing or not) systems of values. James also holds the metaphysical assumption, along with other pragmatists, that the world, as it exists, is not perfect and needs amelioration, and that the best way to achieve this amelioration is to activate and develop human energies. It would not be possible for any pragmatist to assume a philosophical view whereby the universe and its parts could not be changed for the better. Nor would it be possible for any pragmatist to appreciate the world in its present form and meditate over it with no intention to rearrange the way it operates, especially as regards the way it operates in human society. I say “human,” because James makes another metaphysical assumption in his anthropocentrism, or, perhaps, in the democratic version of anthropocentrism. According to this, the individual is the source of values and he or she and his or her humanity must not be reduced in meaning, at the cost of the implementation of political concepts or historiosophical ideas conceived by other people. James recognizes both the role of powers in the context of values and the variegation of their forms in human life, writing that the “elementary forces in ethics are probably as plural as those of physics are” (James, 1977, p. 621). These are, I think, two more characteristics of James’ metaphysics, with strong significance for the relation between values and powers: pluralism, according to which the universe does not have one definite center of power, and universalism, according to which the world (and the universe) has an internal unity and a logical structure. In consequence of this pluralism different tensions amongst the individual members of society shape the quality of social life. James rejects a vision of social life whereby some elected or privileged group (an elite) imposes its will upon the rest, and concentrates powers in setting moral standards, norms, and values. In consequence of this universalism, James strongly pronounces an approach towards the melioration of the world. Melioration would be senseless in a world whose internal structure, as some postmodernists who follow some representatives of the avant-garde might claim, is fragmented, disunited, and chaotic. In this type of world, a betterment of the world at one place could not be converted, by any means whatsoever, into an increase in the total amount of good in the world as a whole. This might undermine a definite belief into the

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

61

possibility of such amelioration, and make any such attempts abortive at the start. James’ psychological approach made it possible for him to see different, often incompatible, powers within man’s psyche. He provides detailed analyses of this in his Principles of Psychology. Anthropologically, he saw these powers as united and merged within an individual so as to see the healthy individual as an integrated man who could control his or her internal powers and set aims to make his or her life significant and worth living. Sergio Franzese, in his recently published and skillfully composed book on James, The Ethics of Energy, makes the same point in the language of ethical theory in relation to ontology. He rightly claims that we deal, in James, with an ethics that both organizes energy and stems out of energy, and with “the energetic and active nature of the human being as the indeterminate being” (Franzese, 2008, pp. 4-5). Metaphysically speaking, energy is a crucial ingredient in the living world, both human and non-human, and ignoring this aspect of life would lead to ignorance of the truth about existence in general, and about a good life in particular. James recognizes this natural dimension of human life and refers to the dynamism of natural forces in men so as to use them axiologically and combine them into a coherent system of ethics. This system of ethics helps explain, anthropologically, the role of man and— socially, politically, and culturally—the way to improve communal life. 2. Values and Powers in Men In James’ “The Energies of Men” (or the other title of the same text “The Powers of Men”), we find a terse articulation of his position on sundry issues from the point of view of a values-powers connection, in the context of both individual and social life. James combines, interweaves, and makes inseparable references to “quality” and “inferiority” (implying “superiority” and a hierarchy of values in general), and references to “energy” and “powers” so that it would be difficult to see them as fully independent from each other. James writes: In rough terms, we may say that a man who energizes below his normal maximum fails by just so much to profit by his chance at life; and that a nation filled with such men is inferior to a nation run at higher pressure. The problem is, then, how can men be trained up to their most useful pitch of energy? (...) “Rough” terms, I said just now, because the words “energy” and “maximum” may easily suggest only the quantity to the reader’s mind, whereas in measuring the human energies of which I speak, qualities as well as quantities have to be taken into account. Everyone feels that his total power rises when he passes to a higher qualitative level of life (James, 1977, p. 673). Let me take a closer look at the variety of problems encapsulated in this statement. Firstly, assuming the viewpoint of the axiology of social groups or

62

VALUES AND POWERS

their “valuableness,” James claims quite openly that a nation can be seen as superior and inferior according to the amount of powers or energies of its members, or of the majority of members that constitute it. The powers, which work within members of the public, are his criteria for determining higher and lower nations and/or, I suppose, societies, communities, and other groups. The more powers the representatives of a given nation possess and use, the better their nation is. Secondly, we should take into consideration more than merely the quantity of energy generated and spent. James, as an eminent psychologist, knew quite well that many people (commonly called “madmen”) generate enormous amounts of energy that lead to negligible positive results despite large effusions of energy. Also, there exist stages in everyone’s life, usually childhood and adolescence, when many inner powers are wasted, ill directed, and/or dissipated. These examples make us realize that both the quantity and the quality of efforts matter. A quantitative increase of, say, fortitude is not enough for us to claim that the development caused or facilitated by this increase goes in a good direction. The reference to this good direction makes the essential difference in measuring the quantity and quality of energy produced and used. In this, we see an inseparable connection between values and powers, in its most crucial aspects, for both James and the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism taken as a whole. Thirdly and anthropologically, James argues that men gain worth when active, and we can discuss a direct conversion of human activity into the quality of human life. When men generate and ably use their internal energies, they assume a higher or a better level of existence, and this interdependence has a complex character. On the one hand, the generation of a greater amount of energy, if well directed and ably used, results in the creation of more opportunities, in more effective solutions to problems, and in access to things and institutions impossible to be had without strife, toil, and engagement. On the other hand, these increased opportunities, solved problems, and access to things and to institutions, make people even more energetic and even more engaged in valuable actions. Fourthly and universally, the acquisition of a higher status of living can be had regardless of the level of surrounding social and civilizational conditions. For example, the low level of economic development of a given society cannot prevent its members from striving to make life better. Their inability to reach the level of life as can be reached in the most developed countries and societies does not mean their success is useless or less worthy. This also applies to welldeveloped countries, societies, and communities. Their high level of economic, social, and political growth does not mean that the effort of people to make them even better should be lower or less appreciated than those who struggle in poorer communities. The amount of inner energy generated and applied (for the required betterment and development) is barely different in communities where the main issue is acquiring food, water and shelter, than in highly industrialized

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

63

societies and well-organized communities where, say, access to computers in every school is a crucial public concern. In both, men’s energies should be maximized and applied to good purposes. Fifthly and deontologically, James sets obligations by using the phrase “normal maximum” to indicate both what is normal and abnormal, and what on the scale is high and low. He claims that energizing below a given level can lead to a failure in life. Consequently, the use of some amount of energy leads to success in life, and people instead of ignoring this should make it more effectively. James’ thinking about values and powers assumes a normative dimension in his discussion of reaching a given standard of abundant generating of powers and their effective use. Man is obligated to make use of his or her internal potentiality and make it possible for it to be greater both qualitatively and quantitatively. Additionally, from an educational point of view, James thinks about an effective program to teach or “train” people as to how to achieve a higher level of powers and to apply these powers to the betterment of the conditions of life. James, as psychologist, philosopher, intellectualist, and individualist sees the most promising fountains of this energy in man. Accordingly, he directs his message in the first instance to man, not to institutions. If we examine his output, in general, we will see how much effort he made in the promotion of his ideas and in encouraging others to evoke more of their powers. At the same time, it must be emphasized that James’ educational message has a well-developed philosophical and anthropological background. Namely, according to James’ naturalistic anthropology—philosophy of man that uses predominantly scientific and experimental methods, instead of religious and dogmatic means—each human being is equipped biologically with a given potentiality, or with a set of potentialities. These potentialities, in propitious circumstances, can be activated, developed, and enlarged. The latent and activated potentialities are “located” in the internal dynamism of both the body and mind. The interdependencies and interconnections between the body/mind and the environment, both natural and social, make it possible for us to see these potentialities as subjected to different relations of powers and values at the same time. James sees huge reservoirs of positive energies, excitements, feelings, emotions, optimism, and hopes in each human being. According to him, these reservoirs are just partly used, abandoned or suppressed. Instead, they should be accessed, identified, explored, and creatively transcribed into the practice of everyday life for the benefit of everyone, especially for the holder of these potentialities. It should be remembered at this point that, although this issue does not have a direct impact upon the present deliberations, James was an astute scholar and observer to recognize that, practically speaking, the term “man” rarely means exclusively man’s body and mind. Instead, the term should refer to everything that he or she holds dear, which he calls “Man’s me.” If we take a closer look at the size of the area of Man’s me, then we will find that James saw it in a much

64

VALUES AND POWERS

wider context than frequently attempted before in the humanities. The context includes “all that he CAN call his” (James, 1890, I, p. 291), which is, for example, his or her house, wife or husband, children, friends, reputation, works, lands, horses, yachts, and bank-accounts. He or she has strong emotions to all of these things, which he or she is closely tied to. If he or she is deprived of these things, then it would have an influence upon his or her mood, feelings, sense of dignity, and would even cause changes in personality. For James, all this should be included when discussing human energies in making man and his or her life better. I suppose, the same could be said, especially regarding different individuals in traditional societies, about their religion, their nationality, and their cultural identity. This is why, depriving them of this or ignoring the strength of these ties, could, practically, cause a nervous reaction leading to the defense of these things. Theoretically, this would distort the proper description of their individual and social life, along with the relation between values and powers. This is crucial in considering the accumulation of values, the development of human life, and its successes and failures. In this respect, we must keep in mind James’ acute observations in Principles of Psychology. Returning to the main point, we can say that for James the activation of inner energies or indifference to this activation, constitutes the main opposition in the moral life, which he describes as the “difference between the easy-going and the strenuous mood” (James, 1977, p. 627). This means that, on the one hand, there exist individuals who are not too attentive in maximizing their inner powers, who are not too keen on constantly working towards the melioration of the world in any of its crucial parts, and who do not care whether some potential values are activated, completed, or merely nipped in the bud. On the other hand, there exist individuals who are willing to take care of the growth of their inner potentialities, who help others in taking care of such a growth, and who convert their ideals into practical reality and introduce new values and new types of valuations into the world. As James put it elsewhere, the strenuous people “will on the battlefield of human history always outwear the easy going type” (ibid., p. 628). In my view, James wanted strenuous people, or people who thanks to the strenuous people’s creative activity have reached some level of eminence, wisdom and experience, to shape the quality of the public life. James does not avoid different types of vindications, although he does this mostly implicitly, of the significance of values and powers. In “The Moral Equivalent of War,” we can see some of the most crucial of these vindications. From a historical point of view, we learn from his writings that the course of human existence has been so filled with conflicts, clashes, and wars amongst people that it would be impossible to get rid of these habits, even if we tried hard: “[o]ur ancestors have had pugnacity into our bone and marrow, and thousands of years of peace won’t breed it out of us” (ibid., p. 662). From an anthropological point of view, sundry types of confrontation, discipline, and fighting make our human life fully human since “[m]ilitarism is the great preserver of our ideals of hardihood, and human life with no use for hardihood

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

65

would be contemptible” (ibid., p. 664). From a psychological angle, the feelings, emotions, and “military” tendencies in humans are latent and wait for the activation and/or development. These feelings are inborn and animal, and “there is a type of military character which every one feels that the race should never cease to breed, for every one is sensitive to its superiority” (ibid.). The constant promotion of self-development does have its limits. James knew quite well that endlessly maximizing our potential might eventually promote greed. Never-ending reiterations of “you can do it” can turn out to trigger over-ambition that can never be fully satisfied. Aiming at a state of personal comfort, even within a socially tolerable range, might end up with confusion against a vast and variegated panorama of the available goods. After all, achieving all of them can, theoretically, give temporary satisfaction and partial self-realization. The promotion of a “you can make a difference” approach can be illusory in the sense of its restriction to a narrowed variety of trifling choices, regardless of the type of society in which we live in (whether a consumption oriented society, a traditional community, or any other type). In spite of this, James suggests that by means of an internal transformation, especially by means of elevating the level of energy directed to good aims, men can improve the world. In order to intensify the internal forces of a person, appropriate aim(s) ought to be taken and ways of achieving these aims developed, so that the strengthening of our powers does not turn out to be abortive and painful. To do so effectively and satisfactory, two mutually connected factors must be avoided: namely, the miscalculation of the worth in the name of which something is to be done and the misjudgment of our authentic needs and desires. Man’s real expectations have a better chance of satisfaction when he or she accesses a broader subjective cognizance of the varieties of the possibilities. This may discourage some virtues and enhance some others. Accordingly, we can claim that Socratic self-knowledge re-gains its vital importance in the context of James’ thought. The vital importance of the Socratic calling to “know thyself” has two contexts, and both relate to the philosophy of James: one is that self-knowledge leads to a better orientation in life; and the other is that aiming at self-knowledge is a form of the activation of the internal power of man. 3. Powers Best for the Accumulation of Values According to the typology that I proposed in the Introduction, I can detect two predominant models of the accumulation of values in James’ philosophy: melioristic, which is most dominant in James (and in pragmatism in general), and interpretative. The first, which James called “inclusive,” is, for James and other pragmatists, the best and more effective. This model is seen as preferable and as moral due to its practical efficiency in changing the world into a better place. In “The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life,” he fortifies his views on

66

VALUES AND POWERS

the roles of powers in putting forth values, and in introducing ideals into the social life, by writing that: ...ideals must be written highest which prevail at the least cost, or by whose realization the least possible number of other ideals are destroyed. Since victory and defeat there must be, the victory to be philosophically prayed for is that of the more inclusive side,-of the side which even in the hour of triumph will to some degree do justice to the ideals in which the vanquished party’s interests lay. The course of history is nothing but the story of men’s struggles from generation to generation to find the more and more inclusive order (ibid., p. 623). A valuable aim can be achieved by means of powers (be it the inner energies of men, the external criteria imposed by social pressures, the strength of traditions, etc.) in the process of improving of individual life and meliorizing social life. As previously noted, James argues that the world of human affairs is not perfect and needs activity, re-creation, and amelioration. Therefore, agents must necessarily transform themselves to have more powers to act and to perform their deeds more efficiently in the name of good aims. Simultaneously, states of affairs must be transformed to be better for more people than they are currently. In all this, he recognizes the plurality of forces and the variegation of situations in which forces can be used for the moral aims. The, as James calls it, “melioristic universe” we live in is “a pluralism of independent powers,” which requires from us active good will followed by many activities. The overall success will depend upon the success of these particular and singular actions (cf., ibid., p. 739). It would have been nearly impossible for James, I should imagine after having re-read The Varieties of Religious Experience and other works, to accept a model of meliorism that sees moral betterment in keeping things as they are. In opposition to this view, many traditions (philosophical, religious, cultural, and moral) claim that the world is perfect or the best possible, and that making it better does not make much sense. If we take a closer look at some of these views, which I propose to call “confirmative” (according to the typology of the accumulation of values proposed in the Introduction), it will appear that passive contemplation of the world’s beauty should be assumed as the main aim of their spiritual life. Or, that the confirmation of its worth should consume their energy in public life, and renunciation or asceticism should consume their private lives. The many ways of cultivation are petrified by traditions whereby members of a given society understand the strength of their identity, the sense of their dignity, and the vindication of their ethics. Their cultures have pride in preserving things as they have been for years. This pride becomes even stronger during times of confrontation against the growing pressure of the outside world to change this conservative way of thinking or old fashioned culture. The petrifaction of the tradition, keeping its purity untouched against external

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

67

influences, makes for the “meliorism” and “social progress” as they see it. This is hardly similar to James’ (pragmatic) dynamism of social change. Looking at the issue from their viewpoint, instead of the view of James’ and other pragmatists, the criteria preferred by James (and the pragmatists who follow him) appear as external, alien, and inapplicable. Let me take a risk and speculate for a moment about the possible shape of the confirmative model of the accumulation of values. I can imagine it practiced by some of representatives of the most orthodox cultures (in the understanding of a representative of the contemporary West). Namely, the confirmative model exists in traditional Muslim societies. According to their basic religious, axiological, and ontological claims, the nearly fourteen hundred year old culture receives moral justification and strength from being: blessed by Allah; sanctified by the Koran; legalized by Muslim laws and customs; sacrificed by the blood of many warriors (for example, in the wars against the Soviets and Americans); rationalized by the arguments of their most eminent sages; and cherished by their most skilled poets. According to its deontology, Muslims are gratified both on earth and in heaven by the preservation and purification of their society and its traditions, and by the protection against the contaminations by, for example, America’s democracy (for them, evidently as evil as America itself). These can also offer an alluring perspective for worthy and happy lives and evoke positive emotions for its members. Individuals of this culture serve their culture and their dignities by keeping their native culture as it has been for ages. Their activities ought to be directed towards strengthening it in many ways, and their different temperaments channeled towards exploring its profoundness. In this confirmative model, the attitude toward the good and the evil is analogous to the attitude toward health and disease. To get rid of an infection, bacteria must be killed, not because bacteria are evil, but, instead, in the name of the good (recovery). Likewise, I suspect that people view the main goals of building and cementing their society, their community, and/or their family as something good. People perceive the possible or real contagions, which would threaten the achievement of this good, in the same way that they would perceive a poison. This theocratic culture, as any other, offers the individual a hierarchical scheme of values, moral authorities, and noble lifestyles. Within this hierarchy, the happiness and self-realization of the members of the public should be freely pursued. The ascendant scheme of values proposes a way for spiritual careers and moral perfections. The authority figures, with their moral teachings and undisputed social rank, make the majority of individuals feel safely placed in a defined world of values and obligations. The destruction of this world of values and obligations would lead millions to moral disorientation and helplessness. This culture also offers some types of noble lifestyles, which have been accepted and respected in the Muslim world for ages. Females, for instance, by being submissive, secondary, and dependent on males (in compliance with time immemorial social habits) freely achieve self-

68

VALUES AND POWERS

realization by doing their holy duty to maintain this culture and transmit it to the next generation. I suppose that their stamina and virtues of courage, love, knowledge, wisdom, temperance, transcendence, and loyalty, should be converted into making the lives of everyone in the community better within the frames of theocracy and within the social system, which has been the case for ages. The values of orthodox religion(s) are deeply rooted in the individuals’ mentalities and religious customs are inextricably interwoven with the habits of daily life. As a result, any division between sacrum and profanum is conventional, arbitrary, superficial, and external (I mean, it is most probably Western). Some traditionally Muslim countries blur the division between the church (I mean, theology) and the state while formalizing the division between religious and public affairs. For instance, the most significant ecclesiastical and state holidays overlap and their “spirit” constitutes a part of the personal self-identification for believers and non-believers alike. Elementary education for millions of Muslims, in such a community, is reduced to studying the Koran. This leads to, among other things, the uncertain status of non-religious science in these communities. Those who feel frustrated or uncomfortable by such an oppressive social system face terrible persecutions and are necessarily condemned and, not so often, executed. Similarly, as representatives of their culture might indicate, corresponding situations occur in the West where societies impose restrictions on conscripts fighting a war, just or not, often hundreds miles from their native land. In this case, chaplains, psychologists (using, perhaps, James’ ideas), and superiors have the job of maintaining the morale of the troops who, having faced war’s reality, might consider returning home without asking for permission. Every case of a lack of discipline is reported, every symptom of weakness despised, every sign of unhappiness ridiculed, and every attempt to get free punished immediately. Likewise, those civilians who, in the name of their personal freedom of choice might share the enemy’s spirit at home are commonly seen as non-patriotic, egoistic, and pitiable collaborators. In both cases, those who dare to oppose the communal or societal spirit in such extreme situations, favoring instead their happiness or convictions, receive the title of traitor and suffer severe consequences: death or jail when military; or ostracism when civil. We can, as philosophers, seek inspiration in James’ texts in judging what is wrong with such a model of the accumulation of values. In particular, we can understand why this model is worse than his idea of the pluralistic universe. According to James, if I have re-read him acceptably well, his ultimate answer can be found in “The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life” where he states that the philosopher “knows that he must vote always for the richer universe, for the good which seems most organizable, most fit to enter into complex combinations, most apt to be a member of a more inclusive whole” (ibid., p. 626). We can explore further and ask why such a vision of the universe, with a melioristic model of accumulation of values, is better than the theocratic and confirmative model. We can see that, on re-reading James more, he comes to

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

69

the conclusion that, since pluralism and meliorism employ larger areas of development, they: offer more effective tools for the betterment of the world; provide more opportunities to generate dynamism; use greater amounts of energy; in this way, are more successful in coping with the appointed aims; and are more generous by appointing them. Members of the public, by being more flexible in the practice of life, have much better chances to accommodate themselves to environmental conditions, biological determinations, and social expectations. I, personally, would call this universe mightier. I have a feeling that, mainly for this reason, it appeared better for James and all the other pragmatists who refer to his thought. Next, let us confront James’ melioristic model of accumulating values with what I call the “interpretative” model, and what James would have most probably called the “imaginary” model (judging from what he writes in “The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life”). According to this model, the external world should not be “corrected” or made better, but the internal world of the individual should be rearranged in such a way as to see the external world more positively, with more sense, more worth, and more beauty. Marcus Aurelius offers a telling articulation of this stance (as I mentioned in the Introduction) in his claim that “[i]f no man shall think himself wronged, then, is there no more any such thing as wrong” (Meditations, IV, 7). James describes this model of the accumulation of values as “the best imaginable system of goods” (ibid., p. 621) and at the same time rejects it, because a world where such a model would be preferred by the moral agents would “have to have a physical constitution entirely different from that of the one which we inhabit” (ibid.). He explains this by indicating the incompatibility of the demands to be satisfied, namely: “spending our money, yet growing rich; taking our holiday, yet getting ahead with our work; shooting and fishing, yet doing no hurt to the beasts; gaining no end of experience, yet keeping our youthful freshness of heart; and the like” (ibid.). A little further on in the text, James claims that a representative of the interpretative/imaginary model would be puzzled by the situation of choice: “[s]hall he follow his fancy for Amelia, or for Henrietta?-both cannot be the choice of his heart” (ibid., p. 622). Let me note that James is correct only when the possessive aspect is at stake: the factual consuming of the material good, filling in of the work time, killing the fish, or taking physical control over a girl. The necessity to assume these kinds of choices does not apply when we take into consideration in the first places the images of all of them, instead of their material aspects and physical bodies. Apart from this, the necessity to deal with such issues is annihilated in the stoical way that prefers the option of renunciation and asceticism. In general, James’ enormous sense of impartiality and fairness in philosophical investigation make it possible for him to respect many different ideas and tolerate a variety of claims in religion, philosophy and other areas. Yet, he claimed that only those ways of accumulating values, which can be converted into the factual powers to be used for the betterment of the world, could assume

70

VALUES AND POWERS

the role of values or valuable objects, deeds, and states of things. Ideas and claims, not supported by powers, cannot be translated into values. James goes further when he writes that “the highest ethical life,” regardless of how many people will be able to bear it, consists in “the breaking of rules which have grown too narrow for the actual case” (ibid., p. 625). This means, as I take it, that intervention into moral principles is justified always when conditions press so much upon given agents that the previous state of things in which they function is unbearable. Generating energy does not just mean production and giving more of it. Energy can also be activated and enlarged by modifying or re-interpreting views and opinions of surrounding things and the states of things. In some parts of The Varieties of Religious Experience, where James deals with the problem of evil, he follows the interpretative model of accumulation of values. Namely, James suggests that it could be quite instrumental for people to transform their inner attitude and, in this way, to shun evil in favor of aiming at good: Much of what we call evil is due entirely to the way men take the phenomenon. It can so often be converted into a bracing and tonic good by a simple change of the sufferer’s inner attitude from one of fear to one of fight; its sting so often departs and turns into a relish when, after vainly seeking to shun it, we agree to face about and bear it cheerfully, that a man is simply bound in honor, with reference to many of the facts that seem at first to disconcert his peace, to adopt this way of escape. Refuse to admit their badness; despise their power; ignore their presence; turn your attention the other way; and so far as you yourself are concerned at any rate, though the facts may still exist, their evil character exists no longer. Since you make them evil or good by your own thoughts about them, it is the ruling of your thoughts which proves to be your principal concern (James, 1902/1982, pp. 88-89). In lectures IV and V of the book, James introduces and describes the idea of healthy-mindedness, understood as “the tendency which looks on all things and sees that they are good” (ibid., p. 87). It deals with those non-active human potentialities, latent capacities, and unused energies that can be, under some circumstances, evoked and maximized to produce both a greater quantity of positive emotions and a higher quality of social life. James argues that the amelioration of the mental condition can be achieved by freeing ourselves from the curbs of negative feelings, oppressive convictions, and paralyzing predilections, while also turning to creation and construction. His suggestions about mental recovery stress the importance of shifting our personal attitude away from shunning evil and toward aiming at the good. Those individuals, who, due to the influence of their religion, think that evil plays an essential role in the structure of the universe and in the course of life, can more easily become

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

71

frustrated and transmit their bitterness onto others, than those who are able to perceive the good and radiate with happiness. 4. Powers Best to Decide on What Should Be Ameliorated The choice of what amongst the whole variety of things (agents, bodies, and states of things) should be made better is no less crucial than making things better in the processes of the melioration of the world, is. Everyday observations tell us that not everything should be amended. For example, according to those who are concerned nowadays with the preservation of the natural environment, the vast regions of fauna and flora should be left alone, as they exist. According to some environmentalists, all human attempts to “make them better” should be abandoned, and all the efforts should be channeled into the preservation of what we already have. As regards James and his views on the development of human activities, he did not call for the total improvement of everything in us. For example, he did not promote work towards an increase of the intensity of sexual life and the betterment of the quality of erotic satisfaction in life. Although, theoretically, had he done so, it would have corresponded to the principles of his philosophy, psychology, and anthropology. The individual would have received another area for the development of his or her natural capabilities, and another venue to be happier in his or her earthly existence. I argue that the problem of individualism offers a good illustration of James’ view that powers are the decisive voice in choosing what should be ameliorated. I will provide two types of individualism, the egocentric and the social, in order to determine whether James is pluralistic regarding the free and equal choice between them. Roughly speaking, by egoistic individualism, I mean one that ignores any serious reference to community; and by social individualism, I mean the development of the individual in accordance to the norms and values of the community. If, as I claim, James is not pluralistic in proposing and promoting both, then we can ask why he prefers social individualism instead of egoistic and some other forms of individualism. Scholars of James’ thought unanimously comment on his individualism. Some of the opinions are collocated, commented upon, and seen as stimulation in a recently published book: The Dynamic Individualism of William James by James O. Pawelski. In this book, we can read, for example, Ralph Barton Perry’s view that for James “[i]ndividualism is fundamental” and, from an axiological point of view, values are derived “ultimately from the interests of the individual.” Next, we learn John Danisi’s claim that individualism is for James an “avowed aim and central message.” John E. Smith remarks that “[t]he hallmark of James’s pragmatism is its uncompromising belief in each person’s right, and even duty, to take his own experience seriously and to use it as a touchstone for thought and action.” Finally, John McDermott suggests, “James was an unabashed and indefatigable champion of sheer individuality”

72

VALUES AND POWERS

(Pawelski, 2007, pp. xiii-xiv). Pawelski himself sticks to these views, and explores the topic of James’ idea of individualism extensively and competently. Without denying the worth of this well-written book, I would like to argue that doubts can arise about James’ individualism when he writes, as he does in “The Moral Equivalent of War,” that all “strenuous” people should feel the imperative of the state as “if we were conscious of our work as an obligatory service to the state. We should be owned, as soldiers are by the army, and our pride would rise accordingly” (James, 1977, p. 670). What is not dubious, in my view, is the concentration of James’ attention on the energies located in the individual body and mind. However, the values, in the name of which these internal energies are used, are predominantly social instead of individual. While discussing individualism, we must realize that there exist different forms, more than just social and egocentric. For instance, James’ individualism does not much resemble the individualism of the Cynics, who contested the artificiality of the moral codes, the arbitrariness of the political systems, and the conventionality of the social orders. They contested these in the name of the virtue within the individual, who should be free from external obligations imposed by cultural conventions, social norms, political correctness, and moral obligations. All of these are, in the Cynics’ view, equally accidental in their character and form. Nor does James’ individualism resemble the individualism of George Santayana, which can be best described by the terms atomism, isolationism, and the radical autonomy of the individual. Also, I suspect, James would have been in awe of following Michel de Montaigne in promoting the idea of an “ivory tower” version of individualism, which meant devoting time almost exclusively to cultivating the mind by studying classic literature and philosophy in seclusion. I am sure that James would not have treated seriously, despite his declared pluralism in religion in The Variety of Religious Experience, the individualism of the Catholic monks who seek seclusion in order to meditate and contemplate without any intention of participating or influencing in public or social life. James’ individualism does not equal the individualism of Frederick Nietzsche, who disregarded the masses in favor of the individual “super-man.” Also, James would not have accepted the artistic or “self-imaginary” version of individualism, so popular in the tradition of the artistic avant-garde. In this case, the individual creates or articulates the world of one’s imagination, without any need whatsoever to share it with others or to refer to others. Let me just add that all these types of individualism can be termed “dynamic,” and the type of inner energy to be used would make these individualisms different. I can imagine, for example, that a sympathizer of the individualism of a hermit would indicate the hermit’s everyday efforts to stick to a daily regime to ensure that each and every day’s routine stays the same by any means possible. It must be admitted, though, that James’ criterion, or criteria, of individual success (such as: particular satisfaction, singular happiness, and/or self-realization of the members of the public) approaches what I term an egocentric type of

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

73

individualism. However, it does not suffice to measure adequately the internal state of mind of the people or the general condition of society. We do not have an objective way of measuring the happiness of the people, and any choice here is arbitrary. For example, if we measured personal success or failure by, say, the number of suicides, depressions, divorces, drug addictions and solitariness, then conditions in the richest countries would appear to be perplexing and puzzling. Or, if we measured happiness by eruptions of spontaneous enthusiasms, then the happiest might turn out to be those from the poorest regions who gather in millions to meet their religious leaders and generate ardors never seen in the West, even at its most crucial football games. Also, expressions of success, happiness, and failure are different in sundry cultures, and it would be hardly possible to objectively measure this. For example, in some traditional cultures, the act of public complaining or lamenting is not, as James argued at one place, a mean, ugly, base, and unworthy attitude, which “increases the total evil of the situation” (James, 1902/1982, p. 89). On the contrary, the public complaining or lamenting can be a form of self-elevation within a community where it constitutes a standard form of behavior. In these communities, or thanks to these communities, a given lamenting person is more taken care of, his or her wound is more recognized, and his or her sense of belonging to the particular community is, this way, felt to be much stronger. In such a culture, paradoxically, publicly evoking one’s hurts is not intended to concentrate on the evil. Instead, it aims at a wider social recognition: to gain attention and sympathy; to establish one’s uniqueness in the group; to gain closer emotional contact with neighbors; and even to earn social respect. The misery-attitude and martyr-habits, as James calls it, can have, within these cultures or communities, a therapeutic, selfpromotional meaning. In this sense, it can have a positive and creative character for the complainers or mourners. If we follow James’ doubt in the happiness, optimism, and healthy-mindedness of individuals with orthodox backgrounds, then we would claim, I am afraid, that nearly all the people in the history of the world have been unhappy and moribund-minded, excluding these living in the modern and liberal West. Let us consider James’ social or pragmatic individualism, as I call it, from the point of view of the axiological and deontological consequences of this position. If we compare it with some of the positions that have just been mentioned (such as that of Santayana, Nietzsche, and the avant-garde), then we can see that the individual is not so autonomous and not so free as the name “individualism” suggests. According to James, the individual is not the center of existence, and his or her capability to create a world of values has quite marked limits. If the individual in James’ anthropology were autonomous, then he or she would be able to take a look at a state of affairs (such as a vision of the world and the place of the individual in it) and (try to) make it (more) valuable or not, according to his or her autonomous wishes, unique needs, and individual preferences. This is one of the most crucial messages from the artis-

74

VALUES AND POWERS

tic avant-garde about the creativity of the individual. Yet, it is hardly the case in James because, factually, the individual (apart from being dependent on his or her physical constitution and biologically and genetically imposed inclinations) depends upon socially activated or deactivated predispositions and by different aspects of social life, and social morality in the first instance. No living organism, unless unhealthy, can freely choose what is for him or her: a food or a poison; what to breathe with; whether to prefer hatred instead of love; and whether to be satisfied with self-destruction instead of self-development. This refers to basic or universal values common to each and every living being and does not, and cannot, refer to more complex relations. Historical heritage, economic conditions, and cultural patterns “shape” individuals in the course of their social life, and the space for free action can only take place within these contexts. The individual, James states, must accommodate himself or herself to the imposed conditions, instead of imposing conditions on the world (to such a revolutionary degree as Nietzsche and the avant-gardeists suggested). The individual cannot, according to James, impose his or her vision of what is good and bad or develop his or her potentiality, without reference to the idea of the melioration of the world and/or to the social consequences of his or her action. According to the deontological consequences of James’ anthropology, man is obligated to fulfill his or her potential as much as circumstances will allow. However, it cannot be done satisfactorily when the range and accessibility of the options are socially and politically restricted, or when legally tolerated preferences (such as promiscuity) are socially devaluated. This type of deontology would not, then, be directed toward selffulfillment, but instead would have to deal with making the conditions for the manifestation of individualism more possible, accepted, and broad. Since every society imposes some restrictions on its members, one may better understand Santayana, who followed the ideal of contemplative life, bios theoreticos, as outlined in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics. Santayana claimed that the pain of constraints, which the outside imposes on the individual, is best avoided in the free life of the imagination. For instance, in the type of life practiced by those philosophers, poets, and artist who are able to sublimate their impotencies in the realm of matter into the free play of imagination and intellectual enjoyment within the realm of spirit. Consequently, we may ask, why did James prefer the social type of individualism? I claim that he preferred this type of individualism because the aims of his philosophy are predominantly social, instead of individual, and that these aims must be realized collectively. Individuals must use their effort to achieve an aim, but necessarily in a common direction. 5. Powers Best to Decide Who Should Decide Another crucial problem exists: who is, or who should be, predisposed and responsible for determining the articulation of norms, standards, and values as

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

75

regards the shape and the good condition of our social life? Who decides what claims are socially crucial and what claims do not deserve much social attention? In different epochs, different groups take this role, for example: priests, mystics, the elderly, artists, sages, politicians, the nobility, philosophers, experts, scientists, and the masses. These groups have made claims about the world that were commonly trusted and seen as competent and serious. The question of the seriousness of claims uttered by a given group is crucial, and James understood it quite well. He writes not only that “without a claim actually made by some concrete person there can be no obligation,” but also that “there is some obligation wherever there is a claim. Claim and obligation are, in fact, coextensive terms; they cover each other exactly” (James, 1977, p. 617). This statement presupposes a democratic acceptance of such a vision of the arrangement of powers, whereby all major parts of society (not just its elite, or its special part, such as experts or philosophers) have the right to put forward the claims on axiological, moral, social, and aesthetic issues. They are right to expect that the rest of the members of the public will follow them in the realization of these claims, since the first know better than anyone else how the shape of social life should appear. James, in his texts, gives members of the public the right and the responsibility to raise their voices as regards the shape and the quality of their lives. This, naturally, sharply contradicts many concepts in philosophy and outside of it, which maintain that only some (the privileged, the wisest, the noblest, and all those who are in the know) can act on behalf of all others. James is democratic enough to deprive the philosophers, along with other professional groups traditionally seen as taking care of the moral values (such as, priests, preachers, sages, etc.), the right to dictate their views to others on what is moral and what is not. He vindicates this view by writing, in “The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life,” that the philosopher “qua philosopher, is no better able to determine the best universe in the concrete emergency than other man” (ibid., p. 626). Contemporary, Western, and American societies find it acceptable that philosophers, like priests or sages, have nothing better to say or proclaim than others. Pragmatic ways of thinking had already equalized social roles in determining what people should do. Yet, this way of thinking is hardly acceptable and hardly fits communities and societies where members of the public take it for granted that some people know things better than others do. Should we, we may ask, assume a democratic stance and appreciate their view, I mean the representatives of non-democratic traditions, as having the same weight as ours? In my judgment, James would respond negatively. James claims, in “The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life,” that, methodologically and ethically, the role of the philosopher is to reject dogmatism in his stance and in the peculiar interest in this or that form of good. Yet, in the name of impartiality and justice, we must concede that James is no less dogmatic and no less axiomatic than they are. In James’ demand for a democratic approach, he

76

VALUES AND POWERS

willy-nilly becomes a legislator who demands (also in the name of others) that the democratic approach should be introduced, as just. Consequently, other approaches are incorrect, and many statements in James’ texts quite plainly express this. For instance, he remarks, “there is no such thing possible as an ethical philosophy dogmatically made up in advance. We all help to determine the content of ethical philosophy so far as we contribute to the race’s moral life” (ibid., pp. 610-611). When James openly claims that “no philosophy of ethics is possible in the old-fashioned absolute sense of the term” (ibid., p. 625), he factually says that they (preachers and sages of different traditions) are not right in moral issues. They wrongly assume the existence and observance of absolute rules in the classical sense, of objective norms, and of eternal values. Also, they wrongly suggest that their cultivation is constitutive to the development of the moral condition of societies. Finally, they wrongly state that they know better than others the specifics of these rules and principles. The question arises, how does James know that they are wrong? What criterion can we use to judge better who is right in this contention? Theoretically speaking, a meta-criterion offers the only option to judge between the two. This would make it possible to estimate, but I am afraid that nothing like this exists, and I am not sure if James would have agreed with me. In the case of two (or more) contrary groups of authority figures, no external criterion exists that could tell us which one is “more moral,” or whose judgment would be the best. Despite these doubts, I do not think that James sought his answer in this direction. I think that he had in mind a vision of power or human energies, which are latent in each and every human being. These powers or energies, when activated and developed, will make it possible for members of the public to shape and re-shape the character of life and make it qualitatively better. This is the reason why, practically, we can talk about powers as the deciding factor (in this case, the powers of the democratic masses) when judging which type of accumulation of values is right. Namely, reference to the internal energies of each and every member of the public for self-realization offers a much stronger way to rearrange the social world in a good direction. This is true despite the vague character of this “good direction” and the lack of the objective frames, so crucial for the representatives of classical philosophy. James’ attempt to fix his axiology in a more objective framework does not help us determine objective criteria for judging who is right in conflicts between incongruous systems of values, if we think of the definite frames in relation to which these conflicts can be objectified. James’ vague reference to the “objective sphere of things” (James, 1902/1982, p. 89) implies that it is always possible to have in mind an ideal system, in the name of which sacrifices (for a better future) should be temporarily made. James’ anthropocentrism does not need much vindication in the objective sphere. More fundamentally, he refers to the internal powers of man and his or her sanity, both corporal and mental.

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

77

The association of morbid-mindedness with orthodox religions, as James suggests in The Varieties of Religious Experience, can be both unjustified and unnecessary. James’ suggestion that “if a creed makes a man feel happy, he almost inevitably adopts it” (ibid., p. 78) reduces religious choices to supermarket-type choices (possible in the highly secularized Western civilization), and is a result of estimation and evaluation as to what can be allowed as a field of choice. If people have a choice, the following message can be sent to them simultaneously: this field, these kinds of deeds or states of things are not obligatory, not vital, not crucial, and not sacred. If James promotes the idea of tolerance in religion, a free choice of a religious denomination, and if he sees religion as a private instead of a public affair then he, willy-nilly, kills the essence of those religions. Namely, he denies a pretence at the core and ground of these religions as to the exclusiveness of having reached the ultimate truth about salvation and the right way of living. Calling for religious tolerance means nothing less than suggesting that this or that religion does not have the exclusiveness to say how to reach the ultimate truth, unless in the private views of the members of this or that religious group. Yet, pushing the sphere of religion to the private only limits its meaning and makes it less significant. This also happens with all other types of views, opinions, positions, and approaches. Those views that are crucial in public life (for instance, in the West, the respect for the law, not disrespecting free choice as regards obeying or not obeying the law, and monogamy instead of bigamy) are rarely pushed to the sphere of privacy and free choice. In the West, we cannot find institutions and authority figures who would tolerate disrespect towards the law, or claim that respect and disrespect towards the law is a private position that can be taken or not by the members of the public. Claiming “legal tolerance” or “tolerance in law,” as James claims “tolerance in religion” or the possibility to make a personal choice in these areas, would mean decreasing its public significance (as it factually is in the case of religion) and degenerating its meaning. James’ pluralism, as perhaps any pluralism, cannot overcome opposite systems of thought, incongruous values, and disagreeing loyalties. In my view, James’ project was illusory in the sense that he wanted to promote an idea that would console different people having different values and different loyalties within one social system. This would further his efforts in the melioration of the human world, especially in morality and religion. The term “tolerance” (I use the term “tolerance” as a willingness to understand and accept different forms of life) is both total and exclusive at the same time. Namely, tolerance is intolerant towards those positions that do not want to recognize, or do not want to accept, the scope provided by those who promote tolerance. When one claims to be tolerant, as James did, simultaneously a group of acts and states of things become unacceptable, which means that they cannot be tolerated. The scope of tolerance has been the object of never-ending debate in moral and political philosophy, especially since the time of the Enlightenment, and it is

78

VALUES AND POWERS

difficult to propose any final solutions on this. I intend, then, to pay attention to the exclusive aspect of tolerance. I will return to this point when discussing the problem of Richard Rorty’s cultural imperialism in chapter eight. 6. Powers Best to Practice Pacifism James did not belong to any militaristic groups that advocated wars or conflicts, nor, by any means, did he see confrontation as a welcome way of solving individual and social problems. In “The Moral Equivalent of War,” for example, he openly declares his belief in a utopian state of things, in which “war becomes absurd and impossible” and “shall be formally outlawed as between civilized peoples” (James, 1977, pp. 667, 668). Elsewhere, in “What Makes a Life Significant,” he makes a hallmark claim (of his and pragmatism more generally) about the use of brute force and violence in relations among people: The first thing to learn in intercourse with others is non-interference with their own peculiar ways of being happy, provided those ways do not assume to interfere by violence with ours (ibid., p. 645). James’ peaceful and anti-violent attitude was not just theoretical and philosophical, but also practical and political. His reaction to the United States annexation of the Philippines in 1898 illustrates this quite well. Namely, he was deeply shocked by his nation’s degeneration “into the vulgariest piracy,” the “shameless betrayal of America’s principles,” and her imperialistic greed and corruption. He lost, temporarily, his faith in America’s moral worth. Also, he understood that a forced implantation of the good (in the American sense) into a different (Philippine’s) culture might appear to the locals as hardly anything other than evil, conquest, and destruction (cf., James, 1895-1899/2001, pp. 540, 373, 475; Santayana, 1986b, p. 402). In “The Moral Equivalent of War,” James claims to be a pacifist, which means that he rejects the “bestial side” of war at the cost of considering “only the higher aspects of militaristic sentiment” (James, 1977, p. 663). I think that an opinion exists, among some scholars and readers, based on the just quoted statement and on what has just been said above, that James was only partially a pacifist. He was only a pacifist in a conventional or popular meaning of the word, according to which a “pacifist” can include anyone who opposes military conflicts for moral reasons. These scholars and readers might further argue that James (and perhaps all other American pragmatists) cannot be seen as pacifist in the proper or full meaning of this term. James does not reject all types of violence, all types of coercion, all types of pressure, all types of control of some people over others, all types of influence, and all types of domination. Instead, he rejects only some types of them, which he calls the “bestial” or bloody. Factually, he accepts the militaristic tendencies in man, and he even explains and justifies the roots of these militaristic tendencies in human behavior by

Axiology of Pragmatic Metaphysics

79

naturalistic and psychological causes, stating that “military feelings are too deeply grounded to abdicate their place among our ideals” (ibid., pp. 660-661). James goes so far in the vindication of the role of powers in moral and social life, as to say that “war has been the only force that can discipline a whole community, and until an equivalent discipline is organized, I believe that war must have its way” (ibid., p. 669). Judging from this statement, we can infer that it would be non-human, abnormal, unnatural, and unacceptable in James to reject or stifle our urges to fight, to conquer, to dominate, or to make any definite attempt to uproot them out of human minds. If so, this position would be incompatible with one that would advocate a struggle for complete moral chastity and perfect freedom from relying on violence in any situation and in any context. Apart from some views stemming from Christian traditions, we should mention in the first instance the early Hindu idea of ahimsa. Next, pacifism for James means aiming at such situations where the human lot will be decided by “evolution” instead of by “force,” as he shows this in “The Moral Equivalent of War” (cf., ibid., p. 666). In spite of this, a representative of pacifism or the ahimsa version of pacifism can claim that any attempt to change an unwanted state of things, into the desired, must include a greater or lesser degree of disregard for the present state of things, which is (whether we like it or not) appreciated by some people, providing a source of happiness for some of them, and constituting for some of them the sense of life. Any evolution, by force or not, is factually a confrontation of ideas and values; a confrontation where two or more opposite, different, or rivaling options clash. In consequence, it can be claimed that a pacifist should respect all virtues, all traditions, and all forms of life that give happiness to living beings. I disagree with this position. The short and the proper answer is that the decision not to act is a form of action. Pacifists, who appeal for a respect of all present states of things and for using no violence whatsoever, can be accused of accepting injustice, poverty, and corruption just by doing nothing to change them. In this way, they may sanction a state of things in which some people use and abuse others. To put pacifism and non-violence into practice, we must skillfully join values and powers and introduce them into the delicate texture of social life.

Four LOYALTY TO A WORTHY CAUSE AND PROVINCIALISM AS “SAVING POWER” IN JOSIAH ROYCE In this chapter, I propose to examine Josiah Royce’s philosophy of loyalty from the point of view of values and powers (as defined throughout the book). Values and powers are crucial in his attempts to axiologically, ontologically, and socially vindicate the idea of loyalty. I claim, firstly, that Royce’s famous book on loyalty refers both to “values” and to “powers,” despite not providing us with either a theory of values or a theory of powers. He does refer to values and powers frequently in crucial contexts, especially while trying to vindicate what should be the cause of loyalty and what character this cause should have. Secondly, I show that he speculates whether values or powers should be the ultimate vindication of loyalty. Yet, for some reasons, he was unable to establish his conclusion successfully and convincingly, and has left us with the assumption that both values and powers vindicate loyalty. Thirdly, I argue that we can see his discussion (in “Provincialism”) over “the worth of provincialism” and his view of provincialism as a “saving power” as an original complement and stimulating supplement to his idea of loyalty, as regards the practical dimension of the issue. 1.

Absolute Pragmatism and Pragmatism in the Context of Values and Powers

Royce appears in the Part Two of the present book, instead of Part One or Part Three, since within the area of the philosophy of loyalty (and provincialism) he is quite close to pragmatism. Although, as we know, Royce’s inclusion in the camp of pragmatists is disputable. I would like to avoid, at this place, a detailed discussion about the philosophical relation between pragmatism and Royce’s absolute pragmatism, as he called his system of thought (Royce, 2005, pp. 381382, 813), which appreciated a significant role of Platonic Ideas in life. I must confess that, generally speaking, I prefer the term “absolute pragmatism” as the best description of Royce’s philosophy and its specificity. This is notably the case in the earlier stage of his philosophical career, and in face of the pragmatism of William James (whose disciple Royce, in “William James and the Philosophy of Life,” proudly claims to be), John Dewey, George Herbert Mead, and Richard Rorty. I do not see Royce as a “post-Kantian” or a “Hegelian,” and as a result reduce him to someone who merely reacted to this or that philosophical idea, which was uttered by someone else in the past. I

82

VALUES AND POWERS

believe that he deserves to be treated as a more or less separate thinker who has created an independent and unique system of thought, although, still, within the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. Royce’s approach to the relationship between values and powers offers a litmus test for the pragmatism of his thought at given moments in its development. Also, it allows us to see how much of this or that aspect of his approach can be considered as convergent with the thoughts of other pragmatists. Roughly speaking, if Royce sees the valuable or the worthy as something created and re-arranged by the practical use of human internal energies for the sake of the daily interests of all the members of the community, then this is a good point to start to think of Royce’s pragmatism, not merely his absolute pragmatism. This strain was quite visible later in his career when he devoted his philosophical energy to writing about practical and daily social activities seen from the viewpoint of ethics and ethical action. In his philosophy of loyalty, he provides us with a complex study of the problem and exceptional material on the issue for us to consider. Also, this material can be seen from the point of view of its possible implementation into the practice of public life, and as a significant complement to pragmatic ethics. I do not suggest that his philosophy of loyalty should be seen exclusively from the viewpoint of pragmatic ethics. Instead, I claim that it should be regarded as a part of pragmatic ethics, despite originally treating it as part of his absolute pragmatism. At the same time, we can approach Royce’s philosophy of loyalty from the angle of its contribution to ethics in general, without any division into ethical schools and philosophical trends. Basically, his philosophy of loyalty deserves general recognition as a proposal for an ethical view that can be studied, practiced, and commented upon regardless of the philosophical tradition it came from and to which it is to be ascribed. Royce’s idea of loyalty to loyalty or “loyalty to the universal loyalty of all mankind” (Royce, 1908/1995, p. 58) offers a significant contribution to global deontology, greatly needed and discussed in this era of globalization when we are seeking universal norms and loyalties as intensively as almost ever before. It should also be noted that his frequent deliberations on the ongoing diversification of old moral standards, the dissipation of culture, and the distraction of the world sound quite familiar to us exactly one hundred years after Royce originally wrote these words. Additionally, Royce’s hopes regarding the huge role of loyalty and provincialism are not as old fashioned as they might at first appear. Namely, today, we witness a strong tendency in Europe (and I think elsewhere), especially in the European Union, to elevate the role of loyalty to one’s province or to one’s native region along with its traditions, language, habits, and customs. I wonder whether Royce’s reflections on the role of provincialism were not, to some degree, prophetic. Local patriotism, or loyalty to local traditions, is a significant current issue faced by many residents who recognize

Royce, Loyalty and Provincialism

83

the specificity and the worth of their native province(s), and for whom this is a source of self-identity and pride. Returning to the main substance of the present work, let me remark that if we approach Royce’s philosophy, from the point of view of values and powers, it will appear that in some places of his output (for example, in his philosophy of loyalty and in his philosophy of provincialism), Royce is similar to the other American pragmatists as regards his emphasis on the significance of natural human powers, instead of, say, the power of Platonic Ideas or the power of God, in making living conditions better and more accessible for all of us. Also, Royce appears pragmatic when he describes: the elevated role of the community in public life; the recognition of the democratic equality (equal access to all goods); the re-examination of tradition from the viewpoint of the present challenges; optimism; and the melioration of the world by means of practical action of agents. For example, when Royce insists “that the problem of the future for popular government must involve the higher development, the better organization, the more potent influence, of the social groups of the wiser type, and the neutralization through their influence of the power of the mob-spirit” (Royce, 2005, p. 1081), he does so in the pragmatic sense, both as regards his sensitivity to social concerns and his definitely articulated reference to values and powers. This explains why, in the just quoted assertion, he stresses the axiological aspects of the problem: “higher development, ”better organization,” “more potent influence,” “wiser type,” and, simultaneously, why he stresses the role of powers: “influence,” “neutralization,” and the “power of the mobspirit.” In this case, he deals with the betterment of government and public life in a quite similar way as the pragmatists. From the proposed viewpoint of values and powers, we can see two main bones of contention between Royce’s absolute pragmatism and the pragmatism of James, Dewey, Mead, and Rorty. Royce, as seen as absolute pragmatist, does not share the pragmatists’ view as regards anthropocentrism (the view that humans are the main, if not the only, source of values) and the naturalistic vision of powers (the view that biological sources of power are the only significant, if not the only existing, sources of power to be considered in the practice of social life). If we think, rightly in my view, of some non-biological powers in the pragmatism of James, Mead, Rorty, and, in many places, in Dewey, then it is evident that the pragmatists see the might of these powers and their efficiency in social life as much weaker than the natural or biological energies of men and of human institutions. Below, I refer to the philosophy of Royce in the places in which these two types of pragmatisms overlap. I want to show that his ideas are interesting and significant parts of the pragmatic viewpoint on values and powers. The position of this category (or these categories) and its meaning in the text does not mean that Royce radically changed the idealistic character of his thought. Instead, it means that, as regards its practical dimension, he recognized the natural, biological, and social centers of powers. He looked sympathetically

84

VALUES AND POWERS

to Frederick Nietzsche and the moral meaning of his thought, which elevated the role of powers. Royce protests against interpreting Nietzsche in such a way as to see his philosophy as a glorification of egoism and selfishness. Instead, he speaks of powers as the aims and means in the idealization and perfection of the individual in his or her social life (cf., Royce, 1908/1995, p. 41). He joins Nietzsche in paying special attention to the term “powers,” which must be assisted by the moral perspective and the axiological character of being: more and more powerful; more and more perfect in the agent’s morality; and more and more influential or effective in spreading the axiological perspective amongst others and showing them effective ways to get closer and closer to the realization of valuable aims. 2. Axiological Dimensions of Loyalty The tragic events of 9/11, apart from other even more tragic events, have made us realize that people can be loyal to dramatically opposite systems of values and hierarchies of values. The events reveal the extent of the war-spirit of loyalty among terrorists who are ready to commit suicide in the name of their cause. This cause was, in their deepest conviction, attacking the greatest of evils: America. Since they sacrificed their lives, they must have been quite loyal to their cause, and quite convinced of the worth of that cause. It is hardly possible for me to accept that the term “loyalty” can applicably describe terrorist actions, due to the divergent views about the right or valuable cause of loyalty. As a result, my main argument concerns why discussions of loyalty without an axiological dimension, or even an axiological basis, are insufficient and incomplete. Some axiological background must exist, which we can refer to in the most debatable issues. Individual preferences and cultural determinations must not be left to resolve discrepancies in understanding the ultimate issues concerning loyalty. Otherwise, an act of killing could be seen as a terrorist attack for some, and as an act of loyalty for others. Royce claims that any loyal human “shows me the worth of loyalty” (ibid., p. 64). Yet, I doubt whether the particular loyalties of some loyal people should be translated into vivid examples of loyalty. In the same way, the loyalty of terrorists does not necessarily tell me anything whatsoever about the worth of loyalty itself, and of the values for which they have been fighting. Do we have any criterion that makes it possible to measure or judge loyalty? Can we use Royce’s ideas and his experience to answer, or to try to answer this question? With some grounding, I will mention Royce’s experience when thinking about two confronting loyalties. He considered this problem theoretically, in his book, when he described a situation where people struggle in the name of two opposite worthy causes, when two fighting nations face one another (cf., ibid., p. 52). Practically, he must have also considered the problem during the Spanish-American War of 1898, which is interesting to note because one of his Ph. D. students at Harvard, George Santayana (later an eminent philosopher),

Royce, Loyalty and Provincialism

85

was a Spanish subject for all his life. We do not have any reports on their discussion on loyalty. Santayana, in his biography, only describes the reaction of William James who was shocked by the United States’ annexation of the Philippines. James spoke about his nation’s degeneration “into the vulgariest piracy” and “shameless betrayal of America’s principles” (Santayana, 1986b, p. 402). Yet, Royce earned Santayana’s disapproval in the sense that Royce “conceived love and loyalty to be divine obsessions refusing to be rationalized” and that “he saw their essence in the child who clings to an old battered doll rather than accept a new and better one” (Santayana, 1920, p. 118). I follow Santayana, since I do not think that Royce can provide us with a good answer to the problem of clashing or confronting loyalties in places where conflicts of cultures or civilizations exist. Eventually, in these cases, an urgent need emerges to introduce a peaceful coexistence of the clashing parties, and a practical decision has to be made as to which of the opposing sides deserves moral support. The formula “loyalty to loyalty” is impotent when we do not refer to a worthy cause, for example, to some kind of universal and fundamental values, as the right of everyone to grow and develop, but, instead, when we refer to the communities as the ultimate points of reference, because, practically speaking, there exists nothing like a trans-cultural or trans-civilizational community, to which many people (except some individuals) can be loyal. I also have some doubts about whether we should ascribe to loyalty such a crucial role in our moral life, as to say that “[d]isloyalty is moral suicide” (Royce, 1908/1995, p. 105). In such a case, all immigrants would be the first to be accused of disloyalty since they would have changed cultures (such as, into the American culture), given up living in their motherlands, and ceased cultivating their native cultures. I do, though, appreciate his efforts to suggest solutions, as he announced in his book that he was aware of the problems and proposed some ways examining the issue. The problem of defining terms led to one aspect of Royce’s failure. Namely, he defined the term “loyalty” as a willing, practical, and thoroughgoing “devotion of a person to a cause” (ibid., p. 9; cf., ibid., pp. 117-118) that has been recognized by a community. We can claim that the actions of terrorists and suicide bombers represent loyalty to their causes, since many of them have committed such acts in the name of their religion and country. It would be quite difficult to accuse them of committing such deeds just for their interests, their egoisms, their hedonism, and their welfare, because they lose their lives in the action. Although, charges of egoism and hedonism at the cost of others can justly apply to groups like the mafia, street gangs, and other criminal organizations that rely upon loyalty to function. Such examples are enough for us to realize that it is abortive to put forward any definite claims on loyalty without the valuable object of loyalty. A cause believed to be worthy by one person can be dangerous or even lethal for another. Accordingly, it appears quite natural to seek for a more pro-social, objective, and ultimate vindication of loyalty. Small wonder, I previously

86

VALUES AND POWERS

intended to study Royce by examining his philosophy of loyalty from the point of view of values, or from the standpoint of the axiological justification of the cause of loyalty. I expected to see values, valuable things, and valuable states of things as the cause or the causes of loyalty. This expectation was vindicated in Royce’s constant reference to values and his strong predilection to root loyalty in axiological ground. Royce provides many indications that suggest that without a direct reference to values, the very cause of loyalty would lack its weight, its fixity, its meaning, and its significance. Additionally, without man’s dedication to this worthy cause, the human lot would become pitiable. Royce strengthens this view by proposing three arguments. First and psychological, he states that the individual is volitionally too weak and emotionally too chaotic to decide himself or herself as to what particular cause should be seen as ultimately right. According to Royce, we cannot completely and unreservedly rely on man regarding what he or she wants in the most significant issues, such as the ultimate cause of his or her loyalty. This is because, as we can develop Royce’s suggestion, the human psyche is much too dependent upon external and momentary influences. In the process of aging, personal preferences and opinions change and evolve. As Royce puts it, man is insufficient and not worthy enough in his or her eyes (cf., ibid., p. 22) to establish for himself or herself the ultimate point of reference and become the source of values. Similarly, he or she is not able to provide a plan of life that would be thought out in such a way as to guarantee a morally successful outcome for human existence. Royce believes that moral success is crucial, and he claims that only the loyal “can have any reasonable hope of genuine success. If they do not succeed, then nobody succeeds” (ibid., p. 152). Second and anthropological, man, having “no inborn ideal naturally present” (ibid., p. 16), is incomplete and insufficient to be the only or the main spring of values and the decider about the main object of loyalty. For Royce, this explains the extreme need for a strong reference to the external world upon which he or she can rely. Nothing inside of man exists that would make it possible for him or her to become the solid ground upon which the cause for loyalty could be had. Man needs a strong and reliable relation to an objective and over-human realm of values that could help him or her justify his or her sense of life and the actions made in the name of some worthy cause. Without this, man would become “detached,” “lost,” and without any chance to find any other solid source of authentic values. Third and social, we cannot rely uncritically upon causes recognized in our society, because many of these causes are evil, egoistic, and immoral. According to Royce, we cannot take causes out of a community without previously stating whether these causes are good or not good. We must not base our loyalty solely on claims that such and such a cause has been recognized as worthy. Similarly, we must not base our loyalty upon the assumption that, since many people within a given community are loyal to a cause, it provides a good

Royce, Loyalty and Provincialism

87

enough reason why we should be loyal to it too, or appreciate the cause as the point of reference for those who are loyal. By the way, it is true that Royce, like other pragmatists, does not propose a theory of the relationship between values and powers. Further, he also does not propose a theory of values (and theory of powers). Yet, in many places he uses the vocabulary and categories used by other theoreticians who deal with a theory of values. I suspect that Royce, who had an opportunity to study in Germany during the time of the birth of the theory of values (Herman Lotze, under whom Royce studied, was one of the fathers of axiology), became sensitive to the problems of the theory of values. He also probably became saturated with the terminology required in a theory of values, and recognized its most crucial problems. This must be one of the reasons why, quite frequently, Royce stresses in his book that the cause to which we should be loyal ought to be worthy, good, supremely good, the best, and valuable. He takes it for granted that the axiological basis of a cause must not be just individually, subjectively, imaginary, and accidentally established. Royce deeply believes that a cause “does not get its value merely from your being pleased with it. You believe, on the contrary, that you love it just because of its own value, which it has by itself, even if you die. That is just why one may be ready to die for his cause” (ibid., p. 11). Royce was conscious of the axiological dimension or axiological grounding for claims in areas beyond the philosophy of loyalty. He was convinced that the sciences, religion, and ethics lack the tools necessary to justify their universal claims about truth, and their deontological claims about the necessity of applying the theses they put forward. Accordingly, Royce asked, “[f]or what is science worth, and what is religion worth, if human life itself, for whose ennoblement science and religion have both labored, has no genuine moral standards by which one may measure its value?” (ibid, p. 4). In the text, despite the frequency and weight of these terms, I mean “values” and “powers,” Royce defines them vaguely, characterizes them ambiguously, and presents their role unclearly. At first sight, the terms “good,” “worthy,” and “valuably,” might not mean the same thing in Royce’s argumentation. Namely, something approved and appreciated by a given agent is “good,” because it pleases and gives satisfaction to him or her. The object could be good without being worthy or unworthy, and an agent could even have and love something good and unworthy at the same time (cf., ibid., p. 28). The term “worth” refers to a more objective status of things, and has some objective justification. Something worthy is not liked or disliked due to personal preferences. Instead, “worth” means that a thing or a state of affairs has a source of worthiness, independently of the judgment of those people who do not want to see it as a source of pleasure. On the other hand, at many places, “worth” and “value” are the same, technically speaking, and I cannot find any serious attempts to differentiate these two terms in his book. Royce’s terms: “value” and “genuine value” appear higher than the term “worth,” and more idealistic. As Royce

88

VALUES AND POWERS

states, “[e]verything valuable is, in our present human life, known to us as an ideal before it becomes an attainment, and in view of our human imperfections, remains to the end of our short lives much more a hope and an inspiration than it becomes a present achievement” (Royce, 2005, p. 1085). Without any doubt, Royce had much hope regarding the meaning of the term “values” (and similar terms), but eventually could not define it. As a result, it could not function as a theoretical ground upon which to lay a sense of loyalty. Additionally, Royce apparently lacked enough conviction about the ways to ultimately define values. He did not indicate a factor or feature, which could have made it possible for us to rely on values with confidence and trust. He conspicuously expressed his hesitations about values when remarking that “[v]alues do indeed alter with the point of view” (Royce, 1908/1995, p. 38). A reference to an ultimate definition of values does not appear anywhere in his book. I state this in the context of his attempts to discover an axiological basis for a cause, which itself would be the ground upon which the unity of any cause could be firmly put. In the later part of the book, he suggests more solid ground for the vindication of a cause, which is the union of man and society and the spiritual realm of ideas that Royce calls the “higher unities of life.” This realm of the higher unities of life possesses “a genuine value, such that no one man, and no mere collection of men, can ever exhaustively experience” nor “become personally possessed of this value” (ibid., p. 144). Man becomes dignified and ennobled in the service to this realm. Surprisingly, this is not the conclusion of the book, as regards the vindication of a cause. Royce found the idea of merely living an ennobled life as insufficient for a philosophical vindication of loyalty. This must have been one of the reasons why, I dare to speculate, Royce parallelly, constantly, and decidedly referred to powers in his book. 3. Axiology of Powers Royce follows the pragmatists in his rejection of the use of brute force. Royce’s argumentation assists this rejection, since any aggression launched against anyone else equals an aggression towards his or her loyalty. Theoretically, we can use this argument against using any form of force or pressure against a person. This is consistent with Royce’s philosophy of values; any form of violence against an agent means that his or her loyalty will be attacked, which, if accepted, will be inconsistent with Royce’s idea to promote loyalty always and everywhere possible (cf., ibid., p. 95). On the other hand, Royce does use militaristic diction in his writing, which appears for definite reasons relating to powers. His reference to powers was a constitutive factor in his thought, which he best expressed in the claim that “[i]f you want to train a man to a good life, you must indeed do what you can to give him health and power” (ibid., p. 102). We can re-read Royce’s proposal regarding the ways that powers (with an emphasis upon the plural form) are understood and philosophically applied in

Royce, Loyalty and Provincialism

89

the context of loyalty. Firstly and externally with regard to man, Royce renders the cause of loyalty by means of such categories as guidance, control, and compelling: “[t]he cause must control you, as divine grace took saving control of the sinner” (ibid., p. 62). Here, the guiding or controlling power must be greater than the inner powers of man, because he or she is too weak to be able to do the job by himself or herself. Secondly and relationally, we can discuss all the factors that make it possible for man to surrender his or her self-will (cf., ibid., p. 12), in order to find a way of living that “surmounts doubts, and centralizes your powers” (ibid., p. 23). This way of living assumes an attitude of obedience, surrender, obligation, faithfulness, subservience, and submission to the external authority, which is the cause. The agent assumes this attitude of obedience, because selfsurrender is a condition for the external powers to work effectively. The other part of the just quoted statement states that “only your own will can accept this control, and a grace that merely compels can never save” (ibid., p. 62). I find it especially interesting to note Royce’s militaristic language and militaristic figures: soldiers, martyrs, knights, and, especially Samurai or Japanese soldiers faithful to the Bushido moral code. Royce uses these militaristic figures, along with the “wonderful spiritual power about it” (ibid., p. 35), in an exemplary or enviable exposition of moral issues. He does this even when he does not want us to accept his moral message in a militaristic tone. Not accidentally, Royce used military spirit as the exemplary illustration for loyalty: “[y]ou must find, then, a cause that is worthy of the sort of devotion that the soldiers, rushing cheerfully to certain death, have felt for their clan or for their country, and that the martyrs have shown on behalf of their faith” (ibid., p. 24). At this point, Royce’s philosophy of loyalty offers a fertile source to reflect about a type of power that has its main locus in man’s willing and voluntary acceptance of his or her submission and subservience to an external authority. In this case, the external authority is his or her cause. Royce outlined this idea much earlier than Michel Foucault, who evoked the controversies over the nonpolitical mechanisms of power. Thirdly and internally to man, Royce argues that human activity intensifies man’s natural predispositions, latent potentialities, and internal energies. Royce names this as fortitude, rigidity, strong will, and self-control. This third, internal, meaning is crucial since Royce saw man in the light of conflicting internal forces, in the reconciliation within the divided being, and in the struggle for unity (cf., ibid., p. 59). Internal, external, and relational understandings of powers do not operate independently, and they should be taken simultaneously. On the one hand, man should be told what to do, and, on the other, he does it (cf., ibid., p. 10). The unity of these three forms of powers provides another dimension, since a life devoted to loyalty gives men more autonomy, independence, sense, and, at the same time, a deeper rooting in the community. Fourthly and seeing things from a point of view of efficiency, we can discuss efforts to develop and promote loyalty. Royce renders this as

90

VALUES AND POWERS

annexation, engrossment, contagious devotion, and teaching example (cf., ibid., p. 73). Loyalty, apart from willing loyalty, needs “an effective servant” or someone who “is strong enough and skillful enough to be effective” (ibid., p. 67) in realizing an aim. At the same time, the action on behalf of efficiency should not be done by any acts of violence or by any imposition of brute force. Fifthly and socially, the notion of “social power” also appears quite crucial to Royce, according to his claim that “our will has no purpose but to do the will of some fascinating social power. This social power is the cause to which we are loyal” (ibid., p. 21). Elsewhere, he openly admits that social ties, including family bonds, have a tremendous significance in moral life. Loyalty, in these cases, is of the greatest importance. Later on in his text, Royce broadens the catalogue of the possible causes for loyalty, and includes nearly all aspects of life recognized by a community. Let me note that we can plainly see the democratic dimension of Royce’s philosophy of loyalty when he stresses that the cause of loyalty should be accessible for everyone who has “normal human interests” (ibid., p. 71). Interestingly, he sounds non-democratic and exclusive when he writes of a limited group of aristocratic saints (cf., ibid.) with their, as I can deduce from Royce, “perverse” interests and abnormal aims. Additionally, he also describes the relationship between the individual and society by means of powers, writing that men “want both to rule and to be ruled.” According to Royce, men overwhelm each other “with the might of their customs.” He concludes that, thanks to loyalty, clashing influences offer a way out, since the need to dominate and be dominated can be reconciled, united, channeled, and transformed into good aims. Many times we read that not the individual or society can definitely supply the cause or be the cause itself, and that “the merely social animal escapes from the chaos of his natural desires, only to sink to the pettiness of a hewer of wood and drawer of water for his lord, the social order” (ibid., p. 40). Sixthly and politically, Royce highly cherished and appreciated the consolidation, furtherance, and thriving of a community and its members’ war-spirit. In these cases, honor “means submission” and “[p]ower and service are at one” (ibid., p. 21), such as during the fight for one’s country. The power of provincialism is one aspect of this issue, which I will discuss below. Generally speaking, powers and a reference to powers have a practical instead of a moral dimension, and Royce stresses the inefficiency of the relying exclusively upon powers alone. Relying merely on powers is risky and uncertain, but not inappropriate. We can come to the conclusion that if merely relying on powers were more calculable, then it would be recommended. The powers are not wrong, but the inappropriate, hasty, and irresponsible reliance on powers is wrong. 4. Provincialism as “Saving Power” Despite much effort, Royce did not offer a very convincing final justification for the worth or value of a cause. He did, though, provide a better analysis of

Royce, Loyalty and Provincialism

91

the vindication of provincialism, understood as a source of values. He viewed provincialism as the ground upon which it is possible to set up the basic structure or edifice of moral life, its sense, and worth. Royce’s understanding of provincialism is axiological, which means that he does not view the main constituents of provincialism as the geographical borders of a given province (for example: a region, district, city, and town), the linguistic peculiarity of its inhabitants (for example, the dialect), and/or its political situation. These features can characterize a given province, and different people commonly see them as the main way of describing the specificity of a given region. In my view, Royce’s way of seeing provincialism is worthy of attention. When we examine Royce’s definition of provincialism, we will see how different he is from other authors, and how much emphasis he places upon axiological aspects. Namely, a province is “any one part of a national domain, which is, geographically and socially, sufficiently unified to have a true consciousness of its own unity, to feel a pride in its own ideals and customs, and to possess a sense of its distinction from other parts of the country” (Royce, 2005, p.1069). A given feature of provincialism can be seen both axiologically and nonaxiologically at the same time. We do not understand a province axiologically when seen merely as a smaller part of some entity, for example: a dialect of a language; an area within a country; a local tradition within a part of the national tradition; a history of a particular place within a larger one; and/or a set of social habits practiced within given borders. Yet, it is plausible to interpret provincialism, along with the elements that constitute the specificity of a given province, from the point of view whereby they can be seen, for example: as one that should or should not be like this or like that; as better or worse; as more or less appropriate; as excellent or barbarian; and/or as more or less satisfactory to a greater or lesser number of people; as important or not. I suspect that this way of seeing the problem of provincialism mirrors Royce’s intentions. A declaration, taken from Royce’s “Provincialism,” offers the best illustration of this: My thesis is that, in the present state of the world’s civilization, and of the life of our own country, the time has come to emphasize, with a new meaning and intensity, the positive value, the absolute necessity for our welfare, of a wholesome provincialism, as a saving power to which the world in the near future will need more and more to appeal (ibid., p.1069). Provincialism, taken axiologically and positively, means, for example: that a given local dialect is good and noble, instead of a rustic, barbarian, and uncouth version of a given language; that a provincial tradition is worthy, inspirational, and fertile, instead of worse and more impotent than the metropolitan; or that the culture, manners, morals, and fashions of a given province have standards of excellence, instead of just being labeled as ill-mannered,

92

VALUES AND POWERS

primitive, and coarse. In all of these cases, an evaluation and estimation of worth takes place. It is impossible to suggest that each and every locality, regardless of its peculiarities, can be seen this way. Localities require an additional condition whereby the inhabitants must be aware of their specificity in order to convert it into pride and self-identity. According to Royce, the realization of “Higher Provincialism” requires the following prerequisites of members of a local community: consciousness of their distinction; and the maturity to make it possible for them to build their unique self-identify (cf., ibid., p. 1070). This “Higher Provincialism” must be followed by an active and dynamic exploration of the richness of the province, understood as a source in which and by means of which “a search for renewed strength, for a social inspiration, for the salvation of the individual from the overwhelming forces of consolidation” (Royce, 2005, p. 1083) could be more or less fully satisfied. This, in turn, should be absorbed, digested, and creatively re-cycled by the members of the community so that provincialism, so longed for by Royce, would make it possible for people to “want to idealize, to adorn, to ennoble, to educate their own province; to hold sacred its traditions, to honor its worthy dead, to support and to multiply its public possessions” (Royce, 1908/1995, p. 115). Royce adds that the growth of the individual is at stake, as higher provincialism will give people a life of their own, and give their community “more dignity, more honor, more value” (Royce, 2005, p. 1073) in their eyes and in the eyes of strangers. Royce had so much hope in provincialism that he readily admired the “new social mission” of a province instead of a nation (cf., ibid., p. 1070), and “the vigorous development of a highly organized provincial life” (ibid.). He manifests his appreciation of “colonizing peoples” (ibid., p. 1073), such as the Americans and the English, by stressing their efforts to make a given province an area for the cultivation of its tradition, for the activation of its potentiality, and for the development of its possibilities. Also, Royce sees provincialism as a fertile ground that can yield knowledge, inspiration, and sense. No less crucially, provincialism offers an area to develop local traditions and local public life, according to Royce’s claim that “[o]ur own success as possessors of new lands depends upon this one skill in making the new lands where we come to dwell soon seem to us glorious and unique” (ibid.). This does not imply any kind of isolationism or the creation of a type of closed society within a nation. Instead, Royce claims that loyalty to the nation and loyalty to the province does not need to clash. These loyalties can be complementary, in the sense that provincialism “if wisely guided, will not mean disloyalty to the nation” (ibid., p.1070). The axiological dimension of what provincialism can give the province, directly, and the nation, indirectly, is: “higher development, the better organization, the more potent influence, of the social groups of the wiser type, and the neutralization through their influence of the power of the mob-spirit” (ibid., p. 1081; italics mine).

Royce, Loyalty and Provincialism

93

Provincialism can also strengthen the higher entity (for example, the nation) by preventing the second from becoming “an incomprehensible monster” (ibid., pp. 1083-4). The pluralistic tendencies, so much present in Royce, also have a significant practical meaning for elevating the quality, not only for provincial life, but for social life in general. From the point of view of values and powers, Royce illustrates this elevation of the quality of social life by stating, “history shows that if you want a great people to be strong, you must depend upon provincial loyalties to meditate between the people and their nation” (Royce, 1908/1995, p. 116). Namely, within the smaller group, whose members feel personal responsibility for affairs they have been discussing and trying to implement into their social life, the collective wisdom of their decisions and their control over committed deeds surpass that of the “mob.” Obviously, smaller groups of people are wiser than particular individuals due to using the output of each individual’s sagacity. As a result, we have a sort of a golden mean as regards public wisdom and the efficacy of social life. Smaller groups, limited in number, can offer the best quality of leadership to the people of both a given province and, at the same time, without any disruptive side-effects, to a given nation. Royce puts such a special emphasis on provincialism, and describes it as “an essential basis of true civilization” (Royce, 2005, p. 1071). I find especially interesting, regarding provincialism, the claim that “the great need of any higher civilization is a vast variety of opportunities for individual loyalty, and of suggestion regarding what forms of loyalty are possible” (Royce, 1908/1995, p. 102). If loyalty is the core of morality, then civilizational development means, from a moral point of view, the development (quantitatively and qualitatively) of the possibilities for the members of community to be loyal. In lower levels of civilization, such possibilities are limited, whereas in higher levels of civilization they are unlimited and always growing. In these civilizations, possibilities appear to cultivate loyalties to which people have already been dedicated. We can see loyalty to one’s province—to its cultural heritage, and to its potentiality as a contribution to the betterment or melioration of social life— also in the light of civilizational progress. We can see, in a similar way, that work towards the development of this potentiality, along with other issues connected with the life of the province and its inhabitants, contributes to this melioration. Namely, according to Royce’s claim, we can see more and more regions discovering their specificity and importance in the development of the present world. Civilizational development, in this case, would mean that independent countries and the existence of autonomous centers of cultural and political power are less and less meaningful. On the other hand, the meaning of provinces and regions will continue to grow.

Five JOHN DEWEY AND THE MIGHT OF DEMOCRATIC VALUES I believe that whenever we discuss democracy, regardless of the aspect of the debate, to some extent we must also discuss the role and the scale of powers that make it possible for democratic values to operate, to be promoted, propagated, and transmitted in education. Simultaneously, these discussions must address exactly what these values are, and in the name of which, or for the sake of which, powers can be justly used. In what way should human energies be organized? On what axiological ground should the educational system be introduced and sustained? It would not make much sense to debate values, especially social values or values in a social context, without referring to powers. On the other hand, any reflection on powers must take into consideration the valuable aims that powers creatively aim to justify, and the axiological frames within which the powers can be used at all. How should social forces be arranged? In what direction should human effort be channeled in order to make public life smoother and more moral? Where, exactly, does the boundary exist between the private lives of citizens and possible state intervention? The answers to these questions must take into consideration the problem of exclusion (and inclusion). We must determine the extent of the power of social institutions, including schools and universities, to restrict the access of some people to goods. To what extent can these institutions select or control the substance of the ideas to be promoted and taught? Who decides about this or that type of exclusion (or inclusion) and control? American pragmatism has sought to sensitively address these questions, and many works by John Dewey (perhaps the most eminent representative of American pragmatism) link powers and values even more inseparably than other American pragmatists. He pronouncedly makes this connection in the context of a debate about the might of democracy. He indicates the role of the worth of democracy and its moral dimension, while, at the same time, showing us ways to strengthen democratic values (freedom and pluralism, in the first instance) and make democracy more powerful. According to Dewey, this provides the best possible way for all of us to cultivate a moral life, and to develop our social life in general. Education, “the supreme art,” is a vital part of this project, which he understands as the condition of growth and the means of transmission of social experience (cf., Thayer, 1982, p. 255). As I look sympathetically at Dewey’s ideas in general, I cannot ignore the difficulties that appear when promoting democracy into public life. We must

96

VALUES AND POWERS

consider whether democracy is factually democratic enough to respect nondemocratic traditions, which have been worked out for centuries in philosophy, in religion, and in education. 1. Some Reflections on Dewey’s Theory of Valuation Dewey ascribes a special role to values and valuation. In his elevation of the meaning of axiological issues in life, he can be compared to Max Scheler, who, more or less at the same time, famously propagated axiology in Continental philosophy (Stikkers, 2008, pp. 164-174). Dewey claims, in his Theory of Valuation, that “all deliberate, all planned human conduct, personal and collective, seems to be influenced, if not controlled, by estimates of value or worth of ends to be attained” (Dewey, 1939/1960, p. 2). He admits that references to values (direct or indirect, intentional or unintentional) appear in nearly each and every kind of human activity. At the same time, he admits (while speaking, above, about influence and control and, in many other places, while speaking about other types of social relations) that it is natural and necessary to link values with powers. Namely, as we may interpret his view, when an agent or agents seek to realize a given aim, then they must influence and/or control a person, institution, culture or way of life. In order to realize their aims, he or she must exercise some amount of power, influence, control, pressure, domination, confrontation, restriction, exclusion, inclusion, intervention, propaganda, etc. For example, the engagement of human effort can achieve a realization or materialization of a given valuable state of things, or a more valuable (than we have it now) state of things. Without this, it would be hardly possible for us to discuss “progress” (or “regress”), “success” (or “failure”), or “achievement” (or lack of “achievement”), in the process of realizing an aim. Anytime we deal with a “better” or “higher” stage of development, we are involved in both values (or axiological thinking) and powers (or the efficiency of making a given state of affairs to be realized). Without this, the world would remain as it is. Let me note that Dewey’s understanding of values, as presented extensively in his Theory of Valuation and elsewhere, does not contradict the understanding of values that I proposed in the Introduction and throughout the present book. Firstly, both concepts, Dewey’s and mine, refer to a variety of aspects of human life, without isolating some of its areas. Dewey, though, tends to exclude from his theory the valuations of (higher) animals or minimizes their role in it. He does not take seriously the earthly lot of animal families and animal communities. He does not pay much attention to their needs to live happy lives and their interests in making them satisfactory, according to their naturalistic standards, which they can express in one way or another. Without any inclination to be contrary to Dewey’s thought (instead, I would make the connection broader), my understanding of values does not preclude their

Dewey and Democratic Values

97

appearance in valuations made by non-humans. In my opinion, higher animals, due to their highly developed nervous system and quite complicated social relationships within their societies and groups, do possess vital preferences and can express them quite plainly to us. This means, for example, that I would not oppose respecting the basic rights of animals. Highly developed nervous systems make it possible for some animals to sometimes feel pain and suffering, while at other times feel satisfaction and joy. Basic rights would respect the valuations that animals make, in the name of their feelings, about what is painful and what is joyful. Secondly, both concepts refer to the developmental or melioristic aspect of the accumulation of values; both appreciate the dynamic character of values; both stress the role of potentiality in men and in objects; and both emphasize factors that facilitate the growth of the potentiality. Again, without contradicting Dewey on purpose, I cannot preclude different ways or types of this growth or development. Dewey, for example, would disagree with the method of accumulating values that I call the via negativa. In my opinion, it would be difficult to philosophize in the name of openness, freedom, and pluralism and, at the same time, exclude other traditionally accepted ways of understanding of what should be meliorated and in what way. Different traditions, often quite old, have developed different ideas concerning the ways in which values are accumulated. They have also imagined different ways to achieve the moral and social improvement of the world or some of its parts. As a result, it would be philosophically risky and morally doubtful to impose just one idea or one way of accumulation of values upon another tradition. It would be better to claim, for example, that other models do not accumulate values as efficiently as the melioristic model, according to its valid criteria. In my opinion, while recognizing the practical demand for such a determination, we would go too far if we claimed that they are wrong and unacceptable. Dewey has not proven the error of other metaphysics, other worldviews, and other ways of accumulation. I follow the view of Frederick Copleston, articulated in his History of Philosophy, that Dewey assumes, instead of proves, the inefficiency of other theological and metaphysical explanations (cf., Copleston, 1989, p. 384). Thirdly, both concepts refer necessarily to powers. Without a reference to powers, values would be impotent ideas, and valuations would be deprived of any communal weight. Both concepts recognize the difficulty of separating the production of valuable objects from external conditions, which would render them impotent. They also have reservations about making independent beings out of ideas, because this does not make the arrangement of public affairs any better. At the same time, I am unable to ignore, in opposition to Dewey and other pragmatists, one predicament. Namely, I believe that it is philosophically dubious to refer to powers, in the context of values, by precluding one philosophical tradition over all others that do not want to refer to powers. We cannot exclude from philosophical debate all concepts that do not refer to powers in viewing the role of human energies (of possibly all the people in a society) in

98

VALUES AND POWERS

the work of making life better. We should not see these ideas as unnecessary, old-fashioned, abortive, wrong, and senseless. Additionally, they should not be excluded from the practice of social life. We can be aware of the practical impotency of some traditions in crucial areas of social life, such as in the development of educational institutions, while also including these traditions in the philosophical debate and accepting them in places or in traditions where they play a role in the social practice of a given community. Without such an inclusion, it would be hardly possible to discuss a democratic and pluralistic approach. How could I declare democratic ideas and a pluralistic approach while, simultaneously, excluding other systems of values and rejecting other approaches for a good life? I could only justifiably exclude systems of values if they sought the destruction of basic human interests, or if the consequences of their introduction would be fatal. Fourthly, both concepts, I mean Dewey’s and mine, elevate the role of social, historical, political, cultural, and economic contexts in philosophical and axiological investigations. For example, according to both concepts, it would make hardy any sense to consider the individual as anthropologically, axiologically, and ontologically separated from his or her milieu. Both concepts have tools to determine the vital connections between the individual and the world outside of him or her. More precisely, we should not even discuss the “external” world of an individual (“external” as “outside of man’s mind and body”). Even in a monastery, a monk contains (in his mind, in his habits, and in his imagination) quite strong references to the multitude of parts of the “external” and social world beyond him. These references include, in the first instance, the language that he speaks and thinks, the religious tradition along with its dogmas, categories, norms, hierarchy of values, and the aesthetic images that he uses to visualize the sacrum. Fifthly, both concepts stress the role of democratic values. They both focus upon the development of possibly all, not just some, people in all directions that those people wish (instead of only some possible directions). Also, this takes place within a framework of social order and cooperation, instead of anarchy and self-destruction. Democratic values include pluralism and freedom, which are the tools necessary to respect the variegation of humans and their right to develop in different ways, according to their internal potentialities, and the potentiality of their community or society. No person or institution gives us this right for development. Instead, hardly any person or any institution (such as the state) would be morally and unreservedly justified in imposing limits or restrictions upon the free development of individuals. The only limits exist to make it possible for the whole society to develop, so that the development of members of the public would go along with the development of society. A democratic society should be open enough to embrace many possible ways of development, so as not to violate the ways for the growth of the individuals. A democratic society should also be able to deal with those who rely on “isolation” and “intolerance” as the traditional ways to promote the

Dewey and Democratic Values

99

development of their communities and the growth of the individuals, and who realize their aims by the use of restrictions, domination, and control. I am puzzled, although Dewey is less concerned than I am, that this postulate is hardly realizable in the practice of social life. Democracy, when in practice, must impose rigid limitations and strict restrictions upon people without their will. As a result, democratic societies are only open, free, and pluralistic to some extent. In my view, Dewey and other pragmatists have greatly underestimated this limitation, and I will return to this point below. At this point, instead of criticizing Dewey, I intend to pay attention to the comparatively high scale of these tensions and restrictions, higher than I can find it in Dewey’s texts. Sixthly, both concepts have a holistic character, which means that both refer to possibly all moral agents in indicating the axiological character of their deeds and their relation to other agents. Yet, I have some doubts about whether Dewey’s philosophy of values would go along with mine. For instance, he might disagree with my argument that the reduction of pain, along with an appreciation for all forms of growth without (this is the bone of contention with Dewey) too much intervention in their cultural life and the ways that they experience the world, requires a more universal reference to values or a stress on universal values. Without too much intervention into particular systems of thought and particular arrangements of the social order, I wonder whether it would be possible for us to discuss a moral community that could embrace all beings, that can feel pain and joy (both humans and the higher animals), and whether this discussion could lead us to a recognition of some fundamentally universal values. If not, we can hardly talk about pluralism and democracy. Seventhly, both concepts can be, unjustifiably in my view, accused of relativism. This accusation would stress the role of contextualization in valuations and, at the same time, the rejection of the existence and operation of absolute values. This accusation of relativism can appear, because, in the critics’ eyes, Dewey’s relativistic concept lacks any absolute axis or fixed groundwork upon which the moral life would ultimately rely. Without such an axis or groundwork, the critics may continue to allege, the moral life would suffer from disorientation and from the lack of a firm setting of valuable aims for individuals and societies. I disagree with this criticism, and my disagreement also refers to the criticism directed against Dewey. I do not find any serious basis for claims that Dewey’s moral philosophy is vulnerable to relativism, understood as something immoral. Namely, the rejection of axiological absolutism, in a Platonic or scholastic sense, does not have to equal the rejection of any axiological order. Accordingly, the rejection does not need to assume axiological anarchism, nihilism, and relativism leading to the endangerment of the social order completely. Strong social contexts, within which such valuations take place, provide a relatively firm (although not absolutely static or eternally determined) framework for values and valuation for members of the public. A given social order, when stable, is held within a given social context. This context is cemented by a stable economy, legal system, political situation, and

100

VALUES AND POWERS

other factors. It provides the ultimate point of reference for the individual to shape and develop his or her convictions about the good, beauty, and truth. The combination of different cultural factors, mixed in different proportions, makes the social context socially and axiologically stable. Altogether, unless some social unrest takes place, these factors make it hardly possible for an individual or a small group of individuals to rearrange the social context accidentally, completely, and radically. So, when social life exists without dramatic troubles (such as wars and profound economic crises), it changes or evolves slowly enough to allow little space for nihilistic tendencies in members of the public. As a result, if we follow Dewey’s philosophy of values, the apprehension of a world of values for a given social group cannot be relativistic and nihilistic, in an immoral sense of these terms. The problem appears when we want to confront social groups, philosophical traditions, religious communities, and ethnic minorities as regards their systems of values. Then, a confrontation between clashing systems of values inevitably occurs, and a vain search begins for who is morally right. Can Dewey, with his philosophy, give us some hope for a less confrontational and all-embracing solution to this predicament? Partly, in places where he stresses the need to make life better, he does. Yet, in places where he tends to impose one way to make life better upon other systems (or other concepts of a good life), he does not. On the other hand, we can easily accuse Dewey’s opponents and defenders of the moral status quo, or those who justify the static and determined social order, of wanting to freeze a state of social injustice. These defenders restrict the places where new generations can respond to new challenges by co-shaping the social order in new, perhaps better, ways. If Dewey’s opponents claim that traditional and absolutistic morality should be preserved, then they should also assume (I think unjustifiably) that the ethics of the elite is superior to ethics that seek to respect what more people believe is good and bad. From today’s moral point of view, we will have problems accepting the ideas of the most representative thinkers of classical philosophical thought and especially their ideas about the social order and the moral life. The most eminent classical thinkers were enemies of axiological relativism, nevertheless, they accepted morally and justified philosophically solutions impossible for us to accept today, for example: the grave social split into classes, as in Plato’s Republic; slavery, as in Aristotle’s Politics; discrimination against women, as in St. Augustine’s Confessions; and theocracy, as in St. Thomas Aquinas’ On Kingship. At this point, I do not want to overly focus on this issue, but I would like to indicate that Dewey’s Theory of Valuation provides an additional suggestion. We should appreciate Dewey for providing examples of how this tension can be partially reduced. For example, he explains that recognizing the social importance of metaphysical claims can help reduce this tension. Namely, in a footnote at the end of his book, he admits that sentences putting forward metaphysical claims “are very far from being devoid of meaning, in the sense of having significant cultural effects” (Dewey, 1939/1960, p. 64). According to

Dewey and Democratic Values

101

Dewey, these “cultural effects” help us to embrace and productively discuss the ethics of how to make public life large enough to include different ways of thinking about values. This crucially helps those who, in the first instance, readily admit that no one has a right to deprive others of life as a way of solving social and political problems. I believe that, regarding confrontations between clashing systems of values, this hope barely exists. I express this fear in many places in this chapter and throughout the present book. 2. Dewey’s Axiological Objective Relationism Below, I will propose two claims: namely, that Dewey’s axiology is not, in its character, relativistic in an immoral sense; and that this axiology is, at some points, universal and deals with all humans instead of just some of them. Dewey’s axiology is not relativistic, in the sense that it rejects a solid moral ground for human development and the promotion of moral disorientation. His axiology is universal, because some of its points have an objective character that can refer to basic human needs and interests. In making these claims, I use categories taken from the classical philosophy of values that, I think, are theoretically possible and practically useful in the description of the contemporary world of values, including Dewey’s concept. Within the philosophy of values, philosophers have presented the status of values in different ways. For example, in axiological objectivism, values are independent of agents and external factors. This suggests that valuable objects or states of affairs are valuable, even if nobody evaluates or has any knowledge of their existence. Axiological objectivism claims that a thing’s value does not depend upon agents in the same way as, say, food (if we talk of universal values). Food is not valuable due to the opinion of agents, because agents have to eat to survive. As a result, agents’ opinions about food are predetermined and free choice (unless in pathological cases) cannot be taken into consideration (I am not talking about culturally developed types of food and styles of eating). In opposition to this, axiological subjectivism claims that values depend upon agents. Or, more precisely, values depend upon the agents’ views, needs, desires, expectations, and attitudes. Accordingly, without an agent’s or agents’ approach towards a given object, it would be impossible for this object or a state of affair to be or become valuable in any sense of the term. Axiological absolutism states that valuable objects and states of things are valuable, without any relation to an external being. This position contradicts axiological relativism, which claims that an object or a state of affair is valuable thanks to its relation to some external factor, and its worth is dependent upon its relation to something else (cf., Tatarkiewicz, 1989, pp. 25-103). Apart from these, axiological relationism suggests that values appear when a relationship exists between agents or groups of agents. Or, that values appear when a relation exists between agents and an object or objects and/or a state of thing or states of

102

VALUES AND POWERS

things. Accordingly, without this relation, it would be impossible to talk about values or valuable things. These axiological positions do not embrace Dewey’s position, because they do not catch his two dimensional situation: namely, that a relation must exist in order for values to appear; and that the relation must have an objective character. According to Dewey’s objective relationism, as I understand it, value emerges as a result of a relationship between an object and an agent, and we are unable to talk about values when no relation exists between an object and an agent. An agent’s or agents’ attention towards an object or a state of affairs causes the object or state of affairs to become valuable for this agent or these agents, and due to this attentive approach this relation is about to be had. The attention of an agent can be aroused by the character, constitution, or properties of a given object. These properties, or characteristics, of the object direct the agent’s attention toward it, and from this point of view both agent and object are “responsible” for the relation that takes place. We can easily discuss this relation when it is longer, solid, and fixed. Yet, it is difficult to measure, in a definite way, how long and how profound the agent’s attention must be in order to constitute a relation with the object or a state of affairs. A difference exists between a momentary (shallow) relation between an agent and an object, and a longer relation between an agent and an object as happens in the relation between an agent and the object that he or she calls “water.” When we talk about the relation between an agent and the object that he or she calls “water,” the relation has an objective and simultaneously relational character in some situations, and a relative character in others. In situations when an agent is thirsty, we are justified to claim, that this relation has an objective and relational character, because the agent is not free to decide whether he or she likes water or not. As a result, the agent is unable to see water freely as anything other than vitally necessary. When thirsty, the agent must drink water, because his or her biological constitution makes him or her use it by any means possible. Basically, the internal properties of water make it nutritious for man. It would be impossible to responsibly claim that he or she has a choice to drink water or not. Water is, therefore, valuable for man (and for any other living being), as this relation between the agent(s) and the object makes it valuable. The stability of the relation has a biological grounding. The nervous system of organisms, together with the natural predisposition of their bodies, makes it necessary for them to pay attention to such concrete goods as water as being of importance. Living organisms, constructed in a similar way, need the same basic goods or values or valuable objects to survive, grow, and succeed in the realization of their natural potentialities. Axiological objective relationism can also be seen in more complex social issues. Organisms have similar basic social predispositions (such as the need to gather, to love, to feel safe, to gain respect, to enjoy social prestige, to cooperate, to have families, and many others) that cause them to behave in more or less similar ways in similar circumstances. Some values understood socially,

Dewey and Democratic Values

103

such as safety, make them react in a similar way to different stimuli and challenges. It would be senseless to claim that the relation between an agent (for example, a father) or a group of agents (for example, a family) can be freely launched or freely terminated. In the same way, we can hardly claim that agents (for example, “responsible fathers”) can freely reject the tools or means to guarantee their safety (or, for example, the safety for their children). Instead, the value of safety is objective in the sense that each and every parent (unless pathological) necessarily wants to protect his or her children. The complex character of the relation makes it quite difficult for individual organisms or agents to create, cultivate, and impose their private system(s) of values and hierarchy of values at a basic level. The social dimension of objective relationism is crucial. Relations between agent(s) and object(s) or state(s) of affairs are complex due to four types of groundings involved in an objective relation; first is the biological structure of the organism, which determines the agent’s choices to a large degree (for example, whether to eat food); second is the “objective” character of the objects, or their internal equipments (for example, the contents of a given type of water or food necessary for man to survive); third is the objective character of the relation between agent and object; and fourth is the social aspect of the relation. An individual organism may eat given types of food, but it would be hardly possible for the agent to guarantee a safe and unrestricted supply of, say, water and food without previous cooperation with other members of the group regarding the method of reaching these goods. In the case of a guarantee of safety, the social aspect becomes even more crucial, because the safety of the agent can hardly be secured without the cooperation of other members of the group. This way, at high levels of social life with pressing safety issues, the social dimension does not weaken, and individual organisms must act collectively in order to meet these demands. If, then, we interpret “safety” as a value, this cannot be an individual value of a given organism. All organisms have a need to be safe, although, this can have different forms as the conditions that provide safety for children differ from those that provide safety for young or strong males. Anyway, both need safety. Again, the biological, social, and structural properties of objects (for example, out of which a solid and safe house can be built) must be involved in this relation. Relations are not static and the same all the time. Societies and communities within societies evolve, change, degenerate, and undergo different types of transformation. This does not imply a complete change of the axiological relations. Similarly, food and safety, as basic human (and non-human) values, have not changed radically for millennia despite the enormous technological development of humankind and despite the rearrangement of the terms “food” and “safety.” It is not significant, in my view, whether for some agents these terms (“food” and “safety”) mean the same for a rich family in New York City or for a poor family in some African village. For both groups, the relation is more or

104

VALUES AND POWERS

less stable, necessary, and fixed. This explains why we can describe axiological relationism as something established, instead of momentary. Axiological objective relationism also inevitably includes powers. It refers to different types of energies and dominations that sustain and improve a given relation. I will support this claim with just two reasons. Firstly, axiological objective relationism includes powers, since relations between an object and an agent can be stronger or weaker, deeper or more superficial, dynamic or slack, more or less secure, and with a higher or lesser degree of quality. When the relation has a “necessary” or “natural” character, as takes place in case of the relation between an agent and food or water (needed by an agent to survive), the status of this relationship also depends upon the powers of the agent(s) to cultivate and improve the relation. In this way, the agent can improve the axiological dimension of a relation. As a result, we can say that a given object or a state of thing has become valuable, or has become valuable in a stronger or deeper sense of this word. Secondly, the strength of the agent influences the strength of the relations that he or she is able to launch and cultivate. Namely, by expanding and variegating this relation into a multitude of relations, he or she annexes new areas of its operation, involves or includes more agents, and includes or incorporates more objects and states of things into it. As regards the inclusion of some objects and states of things, the question arises whether this means that some objects and states of things are excluded. In my opinion, which differs at this point from Dewey’s, we can talk about universal values without using any type of exclusion. Exclusion necessarily appears in discussions of higher levels of social life, such as: culture, education, and the political dimension of human coexistence. From this point of view, democracy is, to some extent, exclusive. Accordingly, some systems of thought and some arrangements of political life, even those traditional ones and those respected in some societies, have no place in democracy, unless they exist decoratively or ornamentally, deprived of their original meaning and power. 3. Is Democracy Necessarily Exclusive? I understand “exclusion” as a tendency to prevent some groups of people (along with their ideas, values, and powers) from having access to the goods shared by the rest of the people. “Inclusion,” on the other hand, suggests a tendency to broaden the scope of those who have access to the goods. I understand “the goods” as all those things, objects, states of things, situations and/or institutions, which make it possible for members of a given society or a given community to develop their potentialities according to their natures, wishes, and ambitions. Separate forms of exclusion include “radical exclusion,” “ontological exclusion,” and, simultaneously or pararelly, “axiological exclusion.” These last forms of exclusion suggest a type of stigmatization or isolation of a given group, which involves a depreciation of the ontological status of the group and a degradation of its axiological (and/or moral) character.

Dewey and Democratic Values

105

In cases of radical exclusion, the dominators see members of the excluded group as not only different (being perceived as not fully human), but also as worse than other humans (morally, socially, and legally). In past centuries and decades in the West, many groups of people (such as, Blacks, Jews, women, slaves, children, the ill, foreigners, prisoners, ex-prisoners, ethnic minorities, homosexuals, and many others) were refused the rights and access to the goods, in different proportions, which other members of the same societies freely enjoyed. From the point of view of radical exclusion, society did not appreciate and respect those groups to the same degree as others. In contrast, a process of inclusion (or radical inclusion) would accept that all groups have the same ontological and axiological status. Accordingly, no groups of people within a society would be ontologically higher (or lower), or axiologically better (or worse), than others. Recently, in different parts of the Western World, the process of inclusion has extended some human rights to non-humans. The Great Apes Project has already become an integral part of the whole process of moral, axiological, and perhaps even social inclusion. Namely, more and more people realize that, for example, the intelligence and sensitivity of Bonobo chimps compare favorably with human children. As a result, there exists no reason, except for cultural prejudices and anthropocentric myths, to exclude higher monkeys from the group of beings that deserve moral and legal protection in some issues (for example, in protection against inflictions of pain). The main forms of powers discussed here concern all the kinds of human energies and forces, which contribute to the more or less smoothly operating mechanisms of our social life. For instance, this includes the mechanisms executed by the works of social institutions. Major calamities of the past, which unfortunately sometimes happen today too, result from a negative and repulsive implementation of values and powers into the social life, known as radical exclusion. I do not want to express myself in the “spirit” of reductionism, and reduce all the problems of the world to exclusion. Yet, we must recognize that if we examine social injustice from the viewpoint of values and powers, the problem of (radical) exclusion of given groups of people may appear crucial. The scope of the term exclusion, both in philosophy and outside of it, appears plain if we understand exclusion to apply in situations where agents (for example, an individual or group of people) and living bodies (for example, animals) are simultaneously rejected (not having the same rights as all the rest) and degraded or seen as worse. In history, tragic examples include the exclusion of Jewish people in Nazi Germany and Bosnian Muslims in the Balkan Wars. In these cases, a part of society applied a set of powers (institutional, military) to simultaneously reject them and see them as morally, anthropologically, and socially worse than the majority of the population. In environmental life, the example of animals also illustrates the process of exclusion. Traditionally, Western civilizations have seen animals as simultaneously different from and less worthy than humans. As a result,

106

VALUES AND POWERS

Western societies have commonly accepted killing animals for food or for fashionable ornaments. Dewey understood quite well, although he did not show this by means of any elaborate theory, that values and powers constitute a significant factor in exclusion and inclusion. In a democracy, it is reasonable to construct a social and political system upon a basis that would appreciate all agents (not just some) axiologically, morally, and socially. This system would appreciate their aims of development, and simultaneously recognize their energies as positive. Or, to put it differently, this system would appreciate the evocation of internal powers used for the melioration of life, and also the social powers integrated for the realization of valuable aims. Additionally, institutions of social life would absorb human energies, instead of stifling them, and secure the growth of many agents without risking the growth of some others. In this way, linking values and powers become necessary in efficiently implementing the moral dimension into the texture of public life. This link, though, is not the aim for Dewey or the pragmatists. The link is necessary to create a community of all moral agents, and to make this community as broad as possible. Unfortunately, I do not believe that such an aim can be fully realized. Yet, I do not want to undermine its basic meaning, since I share it with Dewey. Dewey’s attitude to Plato and Platonism provides a good illustration of my claim that democracy, including democracy as understood by Dewey, is partially and necessarily exclusive. I mention Platonism in this context because Dewey, like other pragmatists, refers constantly (directly or indirectly, explicitly or implicitly) to the Platonic way of seeing things and values, and the way of evaluating objects and states of affairs. A static and essentialistic type of metaphysics is a natural “rival” and “opponent,” not to mention a “philosophical foe,” for Dewey and later pragmatists, especially Richard Rorty. The character of this opposition is categorical and radical: Dewey, like other pragmatists, constantly referred to the “metaphysical manipulations” of Platonism. Dewey’s fervidness is not any less than Plato’s fervidness, which we can observe in Plato’s constant reference and criticism of the Sophists as promoters of relativism, anthropocentrism, and anti-essentialism. Dewey rejected the old or classical systems of philosophy, because (amongst other reasons) these old systems (Platonism in the first instance) philosophically vindicated exclusion. For example, some of those systems of thought promoted and morally justified theoretical constructions whereby many social groups were on the margins of social life. One of the main explanations for the opposition of these axiological concepts, Dewey’s (and the pragmatic) and Plato’s (and the Platonic), is that both are holistic, soteriological, axiological, and radical. I understand “holistic” as a philosophical tendency to embrace, in one system of thought and in one more or less complete vision of the universe, references to all elements instead of only some. As a result, none of the crucial issues in anthropology, ontology, social philosophy, and ethics, could be left alone and ignored. By “soteriologi-

Dewey and Democratic Values

107

cal,” I mean that both pragmatists and Platonists propose definite visions for progress in the perspective of destiny and salvation. On the one hand, the implementation of education, science, tolerance, and freedom would help societies reach the highest level of civilization possible. On the other hand, moral perfection would provide the best way to attain individual salvation and the development of society. Pragmatists and Platonists also share a deep axiological layer, since they present their visions in contexts of “good” and “bad,” “progress” and “failure,” and “sense” and “senselessness.” Naturally, they use different types of terminology and use it in different applications. Finally, they are both radical, because neither can or could undermine their ground or starting-point. Dewey correctly states, “what seems on the surface to be a proper starting-point may in fact be simply the conclusion of some prior epistemological or metaphysical theory” (Dewey, 1939/1960, p. 1). To sum up, Plato (and Platonists) aimed to define static, fixed, and eternal values, whereas Dewey (pragmatists) refers to dynamic, changeable, and mutable values. We can imagine that a Platonist would use Plato’s Allegory of the Cave to illustrate the pragmatists’ idea of values, and accuse his or her pragmatic opponents of seeing the world exclusively in cavean categories whereby only the earthly, temporal, volatile, and communal contexts matter. For Platonic thinkers, for whom essences or Ideas occupy the philosophical stage, the pragmatists would appear as slaves handcuffed to the wall in a cave where just shadows of the real things can be seen on the opposite walls, and mistakenly taken as the reality itself. On the other hand, pragmatists would accuse Platonists of creating illusory conclusions about essences and having an essentialistic approach towards values and things. Additionally, pragmatists would claim that Platonic types of philosophy are only possible in societies and communities where non-democratic relations of power play a crucial role. It does not make sense to consider Platonists as democratic and pluralistic, since the Platonists would have never claimed that they were democratic and pluralistic. As a result, for Platonists, it is natural to exclude some incongruent views. The rejection of the Poets from the Platonic Republic provides a symbol of this exclusion. On the other hand, Platonists could claim (despite the pragmatists’ declarations about democracy, freedom, and pluralism) that pragmatists are not democratic enough and not pluralistic enough to equally appreciate and promote views incompatible with democracy. Let us consider this issue from the point of view of the accumulation of values in Dewey. In the Introduction to the present book, I proposed ten different models of the accumulation of values, and it appears that Dewey’s philosophy is inconsistent with all except one: the melioristic model (he may, perhaps, tolerate a few others). Dewey’s meliorism, as we can read in Democracy and Education, especially in the chapter “Education as Growth,” presents a form of growth (or a “cumulative movement of action”) that leads “toward a later result.” Overall, this process starts with immaturity and ends with maturity. Dewey explains:

108

VALUES AND POWERS when we say that immaturity means the possibility of growth, we are not referring to absence of powers which may exist at a later time; we express a force positively present—the ability to develop (...). Taken absolutely, instead of comparatively, immaturity designates a positive force or ability,—to pouter to growth (Dewey, 1916, 4, Pt. 1).

Reaching maturity does not only mean absorption of the external standards. Instead, it means that “the power to retain from one experience something which is of avail in coping with the difficulties of a later situation. This means power to modify actions on the basis of the results of prior experiences, the power to develop dispositions” (ibid., 4, Pt. 2). Dewey makes a similar comment regarding education, claiming that “[s]o far as emulation enters in, it is in the comparison of individuals, not with regard to the quantity of information personally absorbed, but with reference to the quality of work done—the genuine community standard of value” (Dewey, 1907, p. 30). In this way, Dewey rejects models of the accumulation of values, such as the via negativa model, which denies the acceptance of any new ingredients, influences, innovations, and addictions due to a conviction that they would intoxicate and spoil that which has already been achieved. The via negativa model has a necessary precondition of the goodness of everything that has already been secured. For quite many groups, this is a constitutive way of understanding values. In the via negativa model, many of these groups find a way to achieve and cultivate their self-identity. Turning our attention to the practice of our social life, the Amish provide a good example of this model in American life. If I can imagine it well, the Amish labor to eliminate wrongs, evils, faults, and imperfections in order to preserve an already gained state of cleanness and purity in their social life. Their education, I assume, would block and reject by any means all new and external elements to the already existing tradition in order to maintain the present tradition in a pristine state. The Amish hold the conviction that the present state of things is good and desirable, and that all accessible powers should be used to keep things as they are. We can suspect that the implementation of pragmatic ideas of democracy, freedom, and pluralism into the educational “system” of the Amish (which, I assume, is nondemocratic, non-liberal, and non-pluralistic) and all other similar groups, might dissolve their uniqueness in an ocean of the surrounding culture. Dewey prefers the melioristic model over the perfective model, which desires a final aim of a given action, an ultimate completion of a given state of thing, and a perfection of a given stance. Dewey cannot accept the perfective model, because its integral final stage of perfection is not instrumental or relative to any other stages, to any other aims (for example, to the agent’s satisfaction and his/her aesthetic fulfillment), and/or to any other uses. For example, a contemporary ascetic of the stoical style, if saturated with a spirit of perfection, masters his or her moral stance without asking many questions, such as: who needs, in the age of supermarkets, such manners; whether by this type

Dewey and Democratic Values

109

of practice he or she contributes to the moral development of his or her community; or whether practicing self-renunciation is a waste of time and energy. I cannot imagine Dewey congratulating an ascetic for his or her perfection and encouraging others, especially youngsters, to follow the ascetic. Dewey illustrates this by attempting to change old-fashioned habits, institutions, and systems of thought. In addition to rejecting the via negativa and the perfective models, which is enough to say that he does not favor pluralism, Dewey also rejects what I term “the pluralistic model.” According to this model, space should exist for different and incompatible ways of accumulating values, since all methods (when recognized by tradition and when not totalitarian) are worthy of recognition. As we will see below, Dewey does not want to introduce pluralism or too many models of education. Education, in his view, is a way to develop social powers in more or less one, definite, direction. If he were pluralistic in this respect, he would want to introduce different ways of education, instead of replacing the existing ones (whether traditional, classical, or any other that does not work in contemporary society) with a new and better one. The pluralistic model requires different vistas and different points of departures, while talking about development and progress. For example, if we consider development and progress from the Native American’s, genuine, point of view, its estimation must be critical and different than the estimation of the majority of non-Native Americans. Both Native Americans and non-Native Americans have the right, according to the pluralistic model, to be heard. Native Americans, I suppose, would regard the civilizing mission of White Europeans as constant oppression, which has led to the extinction of the cultural identity of native nations. If we apply this cultural confrontation to the problem of education today, we will reveal incompatible ways of education, and I have doubts whether Dewey’s idea of “pluralism” in education would provide a satisfactory settlement of the issues that confront both conflicting parties. 4. Education as Development of “Social Power” We can detect a concentration of these problems in reflections upon the idea of education. Dewey’s philosophy offers an excellent insight into the issue for three reasons: firstly, apart from being “America’s philosopher” (Hickman, 2004, p. 155), Dewey is America’s most eminent educator; secondly, the role of values and powers in his philosophy of education is especially pronounced, although not explicit; and thirdly, his idea of education is strongly saturated in the idea of democracy. As a result, we can discuss the idea of “democratic education” in Dewey, which is education in the name of democratic values and by means of democratic values. Below, I would like to examine some of these problems from the viewpoint of education, and the maximization of social power by means of education.

110

VALUES AND POWERS

Dewey convincingly and conspicuously addresses the linking of values and powers while discussing the problem of democracy in education. He explores the internal energies of students and teachers in education (when the system of education is efficient) that, depending on its powerfulness and efficiency, makes it possible for a community to develop according to a given aim or to given aims. At the same time, Dewey argues that the arrangement of education systems results from the arrangement of social forces. Regardless of whether the political system is totalitarian or democratic, social forces manifest in the classroom where the relation between the teacher and pupils will be correspondingly totalitarian or democratic. I do not claim that this conversion is automatic and immediate, but I do claim that it is unavoidable. It would be difficult to find examples in a democratic country where the prevailing mood of education is totalitarian, and examples in a totalitarian country where the mood of education (unless in special or isolated places) is free and pluralistic. We can detect the interdependence between political/social systems and education systems in different places, but Dewey shows us that classrooms (apart from curricular issues) offer one of the most crucial places to view this relationship. The classroom has always reflected, on a microscopic scale, relations between values and powers in the society at large. First, the more or less elevated position of the teacher in relation to the pupil reveals the extent of democracy in a society. In some traditions, pupils appear as worse and weaker versions of the teacher, and pupils (children) just copy teachers (adults) and follow them in gaining this or that portion of experience. Students gain knowledge by imitating their elders’ model of life and coping with circumstances as their elders would. Here, the teacher has nearly absolute power over his or her students. The teacher is an unquestioned authority figure who knows better and is better than his or her students. As an instructor and educator, he or she justifiably executes the powers that the system of education gives him or her for the purpose of conveying the required knowledge and expected posture into their pupils’ heads and consciences. Last, but not least, it involves children in a special kind of activity: The occupation supplies the child with a genuine motive; it gives him experience at first hand; it brings him into contact with realities. It does all this, but in addition it is liberalized throughout by translation into its historic values and scientific equivalencies. With the growth of the child’s mind in power and knowledge it ceases to be a pleasant occupation merely, and becomes more and more a medium, an instrument, an organ—and is thereby transformed (Dewey, 1907, p. 37). Quite rightly, after visiting a school, Dewey noticed the axiological significance, apart from the social and educational significance, of the arrangement of desks, chairs, and other supplies. In “The School and the Life of the Child,” Dewey states that all of the objects (desk, chair, etc.) were arranged in such a

Dewey and Democratic Values

111

way that, as he was told, the pupils could listen to the teachers. Or, that the objects were arranged in a way to encourage pupils to passively absorb knowledge given to them by the teacher, to follow his or her instructions, and to imitate what he or she says. The classroom provided little space for the pupils themselves, because teachers only intended for students to sit and take notes. All desks, along with all other types of equipment, were the same since teachers provided knowledge for pupils (and pupils then absorbed the knowledge) in the same way and by the same methods. This traditional arrangement of teaching and learning illustrates well the relation towards powers and values. Pupils had to listen to the teacher, who was always considered right, and who rightly provided the pupils with good standards and norms. To this end, the teacher imposed a rigorous routine upon the children, due to the assumptions that all pupils are nearly the same and that the teacher (who is always right) should not be sensitive to the pupils’ “caprices.” Dewey wanted to change that system to see children: as individual creatures, instead of taken collectively as a mass of pupils; as active, instead of passive learners; as creative, instead of re-creative or un-creative; and as initiative, instead of receptive. Further, he believed that schoolwork should be: practical, instead of theoretical; inventive, instead of repetitive; spontaneous, instead of mechanically repeated; and suited to their interests, instead of interests imposed from the outside. Dewey contends that children should be interacting with each other, instead of only listening to the teacher, in order to develop their inner potentialities instead of accommodating them to the established social conditions. According to Dewey, his proposed system would make each pupil a distinct individual, instead of one part of a massive collection of people with the same skills, the same knowledge, the same type of responsibility, and the same approach to a variety of problems that they will have to face in life. The whole process should assume the character of an exploration of children’s energies, interests, and uniqueness. Instead, traditional systems of education pour into the pupils’ heads a given portion of material, of knowledge about the world, and of recognition of the main values, norms, and obligations. For Dewey, when designing a new education system, it should be remembered that each child has ample potential, which requires channeling (by “training” children in communication, participation, exploration, experimenting, creation, and inventing) into the ability to make good things, instead of being curbed and disciplined into accepting presently fixed mechanisms of social life. What are the consequences as regards values and powers? We can assume that anyone, whose main role is just to listen and who does not share his or her impressions on what he or she is listening to, is neither a source of power nor a source of values in the process of education. Or, as Dewey puts it, “the center of gravity is outside of the child” (ibid., p. 51). This source exists outside of the pupil, in the person who instructs him or her. Without this sense of power, perhaps, listeners would not listen. Further, if you have more or less the same

112

VALUES AND POWERS

contents of teaching throughout the generations, it must be that (by means of education) the message about values continues on and on without any space for modification, reform, and rearrangement. Students view the world presented to them as a static and fixed, where they are only expected to imitate the existing rules and relations. Dewey’s change in the system of education, to me, can be translated as a change in the relation of powers and values into a democratic model, instead of hierarchical model where the teacher (who knows better) gives assignments and suggests what to think. In the “Dewey system,” a child (with his or her individuality, specificity, and singular sensitivity) has the right to the recognition of what he or she wants and likes. In the democratic model of education, such as proposed by Dewey, the position of the teacher is not elevated, or hierarchically placed higher, above the students so that a partnership between them is hardly possible. Instead, the teacher becomes an expert, instructor, and caretaker who possesses knowledge in some areas. The teacher skillfully helps his or her pupils by making it possible for the pupils to develop their interests, passions, and skills. This relates to the transmission of knowledge, because in a non-democratic and nonpluralistic system of education students learn material as a ready form, and no one expects that they can influence the creation of knowledge. Knowledge has already been gained someplace else, and by someone else, so that students have no participation in its shape or origin. In opposition to this system, Dewey proposes a way of absorbing knowledge where the children have an awareness of their contribution in creating the world they cognize by stimulating them to activity in different fields. In this system, teachers encourage students to undertake individual research and propose solutions to problems. All this connects to the dynamism of gaining knowledge. I understand this dynamism as the ways in which the knowledge is passed on to the learners. In non-democratic and non-pluralistic systems (unlike Dewey’s proposal), students receive values and knowledge, instead of giving them. It does not matter if students are interested in acquiring the material, or whether the material will be practically useful for them in the future. Basically, in plain words, students should absorb material. In Dewey, classroom “experiences and ideas are exchanged and subjected to criticism, where misconceptions are corrected, and new lines of thought and inquiry are set up” (ibid., p. 65). Even more, as Dewey states in “My Creed,” each child and his or her experience should be seen as unique, special, worthy, and given a chance to successfully develop. Here, the role of the teacher has changed. He or she does not execute his or her power to impose knowledge and values upon the children. Instead, the teacher listens to his or her pupils in order to activate them into practical and active participation in the social life in general. Dewey, the greatest educator in American philosophy, was quite sensitive to the problems of using pupils’ energies to the development of society. He was no less sensitive to the quality of the transmission of knowledge from teachers

Dewey and Democratic Values

113

to students. It is no small wonder that in this area Dewey’s enthusiasm and genius provide fruitful results. Dewey quite convincingly reveals a strong link between values and powers by stressing the huge role of education in society. He also demonstrates this link by showing the mechanism of schooling. In the first place, educational development is, in his words, “the direction of powers into special channels” (Dewey, 1916, 3. Pt.1). Inevitably, we can repeat after him, valuations depend on the social structure of power. For example, values appear differently in different societies, such as: societies with a privileged group of people (the elites), as in most of European history, who have access to education, knowledge, and ways of promoting their views as true; or democratic societies where one group of people cannot, unless temporary and superficially, impose one type of thinking on good and bad upon the rest. Here, the structure of power works differently, and Dewey argues that given educational aims can be achieved by “saturating” the pupil “with the spirit of service, and providing him with the instruments of effective self-direction, we shall have the deepest and best guarantee of a larger society which is worthy, lovely, and harmonious” (Dewey, 1907, p. 41). According to Dewey, schools (primary, secondary, and higher) should infuse students with the appropriate spirit. In The School and Society (“The School and Social Process”), Dewey declares on the first page that in a democratic society the source of values used in education lies in the best and the wisest parents. He continues to argue that any different understanding of the issues equals an attempt to destroy democracy (cf., ibid., p. 19). Dewey sees the classroom as a battlefield of ideas for the whole of society: on the one hand, the whole heritage and accomplishments being at the classroom’s disposal to interpret and re-interpret according to the present needs of the society; and, on the other hand, the ceaseless shaping of the quality of social life in the light of future aims. Dewey knew quite well that education should focus on manual work training, shop work, and household skills, instead of on studying holy texts, philosophical speculations, and classic languages. He stresses the significance of practical activity, rather than passive speculation, and on the social plane this indicates what is (more or less) valuable in life: training in different subjects that Dewey conceives as “methods of life,” instead of “distinct studies” (ibid., p. 27); and articulating the most crucial needs and aims in society. The unavoidable connection between the individual and the social offers an additional dimension to this concourse. Dewey realized that the successful growth of a singular child is converted into the well-being of a given community, and vice versa. The worth and character of the community is translated into the intellectual, moral, and spiritual endowment of a single man. Dewey links education with what he calls “social power:” in the school the typical occupations followed are freed from all economic stress. The aim is not the economic value of the products, but

114

VALUES AND POWERS

the development of social power and insight. It is this liberation from narrow utilities, this openness to the possibilities of the human spirit that makes these practical activities in the school allies of art and centers of science and history (ibid., p. 32). This corresponds to a more general view on the relationship between man and society. If we take a look at the relation between man and society, in light of values and powers, the most fundamental question is whether man or society is the source of values and the center of power? Pragmatism shows, in a great contribution to philosophy, that such a question is artificial and obscure. It is impossible to strictly separate individual and social values, because they converge at a basic level of biological life. Namely, basic values have both an individual and a social character. Dewey dislikes such types of binary for many reasons, but most crucially he believes that man is stronger in society, and weaker without it or outside of it. Man is stronger and has more power when he or she interacts with society. Dewey writes: From a social standpoint, dependence denotes a power rather than a weakness; it involves interdependence. There is always a danger that increased personal independence will decrease the social capacity of an individual. In making him more self-reliant, it may make him more selfsufficient; it may lead to aloofness and indifference. It often makes an individual so insensitive in his relations to others as to develop an illusion of being really able to stand and act alone—an unnamed form of insanity which is responsible for a large part of the remediable suffering of the world (Dewey, 1916, 4. Pt. 1). Summing up, we can truly claim that Dewey links educational issues with the development of social power. For Dewey, social life or collective coexistence is the source of values and morality for individuals. In this, Dewey follows a general tendency in American pragmatism initiated by Peirce, strongly supported by James, and even more strongly articulated by George Herbert Mead. The process of education can recognize values generated and accepted by society, and it can also creatively develop and strengthen these values. The idea of “progress,” in the context of education, has a deeply axiological character. It would be impossible to discuss “progress” (and “regress”) without having a pre-established assumption that some increase or accumulation of values is to be achieved by the realization of the given progress. Thus, while discussing the progress of society, one must accept the criteria that will be used to judge whether a given state of society should be developed in this or that way. Can we find any other types of exclusion in Dewey’s philosophy of education? I believe that it is a utopian claim (and I suspect that Dewey wanted to make the claim) that in a democratic type of education, the consciousness of

Dewey and Democratic Values

115

the people is devoted simultaneously to practical and philosophical things. In The School and Society, Dewey writes: Plato somewhere speaks of the slave as one who in his actions does not express his own ideas, but those of some other man. It is our social problem now, even more urgent than in the time of Plato, that method, purpose, understanding, shall exist in the consciousness of the one who does the work, that his activity shall have meaning to himself” (Dewey, 1907, p. 37-38). In my view, Dewey shifts the area of consciousness of “modern” man from speculative philosophizing (when he or she is educated) into practical work for the betterment of social life. In this shift, Dewey saw the scope for the improvement of cultural life. Accordingly, education would be more useful, as he puts it, “if we were to introduce into educational processes the activities which appeal to those whose dominant interest is to do and to make, we should find the hold of the school upon its members to be more vital, more prolonged, containing more of culture” (ibid., p. 43). In Dewey, a “modern” man does not and will not express ideas regarding, say, the destination of history, the general sense of human life, or a vision of the world. Instead, a “modern” man does and will have a vision of his or her work, the present existential situation, and the skills that he or she requires to be able to perform on the job market. In the area of practical activity, the worker is able, in Dewey’s model of social life, to develop his or her imagination and have a “sympathetic insight as to the social and scientific values found in his work” (ibid., p. 38). He or she is not able to develop his or her imagination in the area of a general vision of existence, a universal meaning of good and bad, or to interpret other systems of thought. Larry Hickman correctly states that Dewey’s efforts to reconstruct philosophy and education were predicated on an understanding, as perhaps no other philosopher of his time, of the extent to which science and technology transformed the functioning of democratic institutions (Hickman, 2004, p. 155). His sense of the changes, the rapid and irrevocable changes, was so strong that he had no doubt about the inefficiency of those systems of thought and those institutions, which were indifferent to those changes and were preoccupied with maintaining the traditional moral and educational order.

Six DEMOCRACY AND EXCLUSION IN PRAGMATIC AESTHETICS (DEWEY, SHUSTERMAN, MARGOLIS) The aesthetics of American pragmatism has not failed to identify, discuss, and creatively interpret the connection between values and powers. In the first instance, John Dewey, followed recently by Richard Shusterman, Joseph Margolis, and others, stressed the role of social powers (for example, the role of the European elite of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries) in the practical shaping of the division between high arts (and high culture) and low or popular arts (and low or popular culture). Secondly, American pragmatists have revealed how much democracy can enrich our aesthetic experience and quality of life by, for example, encouraging massive access to artistic education. The world of the arts is open to anyone who would like to participate, and more people than ever before receive the chance to have aesthetic experience. Thirdly, American pragmatists have drawn our attention to how much the promotion of a given model of accumulation of values in public life influences our perception of the arts and its role in the social life. In this way, the promotion of pluralism in the area of politics, along with the promotion of democracy in the area of social life, translates into the promotion of pluralism and democracy in the arts and aesthetics. All this is largely incompatible with the avant-garde, elitist, aristocratic, transcendental, and religious concepts of the arts. Absolutistic concepts of values and traditionally exclusive approaches to aesthetics claim no less fervidly than the pragmatists to possess true access to the realm of beauty. Can, then, the pragmatists refer to pluralism and democracy while at the same time viewing Plato’s aesthetics as anathema? Can the pragmatists interpret absolutistic or cosmic claims in categories of social conditions, and thus kill the main sense of Platonism (and all the aesthetic concepts that refer to it)? Has pragmatic aesthetics become too exclusive? 1. Democracy and Exclusion in Dewey’s Aesthetics John Dewey and his followers, while stressing the importance of the collective character of the arts, also recognize tensions in the given community. Dewey presents, for example, the maker/author and receiver/viewer of art from the perspective of social conditions, economic background, and historical heritage. These perspectives all embrace different types of powers within a given social group. When Dewey writes that art is a sophisticated and intensified form of

118

VALUES AND POWERS

the daily experience, he claims, amongst other things, that art can be more profoundly analyzed by recognizing the conditions that generated, determined, and eased its appearance. At the same time, the process can extend back since art, in its complexity and specificity, can provide a better understanding of the maker/author (and the receiver/viewer) as a member of the society/community where the process of artistic creation and aesthetic theorizing took place. With the utmost clarity, Shusterman illustrates this by showing that rap music, or hip-hop culture more generally, expresses the needs and sensitivities of the black population ghettoized in America’s large urban areas. Also, Dewey’s aesthetics demonstrates how much democracy, understood as a way of living in a social and political system, can enrich the quality of aesthetic experience and broaden the spectrum of artistic practice. For example, in a democracy, the tremendous access of youth to artistic education causes them to become sensitive to things impossible for them to know in social and political systems with restricted access to education. Likewise, the opening of the world of the arts to everyone who would like to participate, thus elevating the role of popular culture (and popular aesthetics), can result in the participation of many more people in cultural (and artistic and aesthetic) life. This does not take place in the non-democratic systems. Also, Dewey has drawn our attention to how much the promotion of a given model of the accumulation of values in the public life can influence our perception of the arts and the role of the arts in the social life. For example, the promotion of pluralism in the area of politics and the promotion of democracy in the area the social life, convert into the promotion of pluralism and democracy in the arts and aesthetics. As a result, many more people and institutions than ever before can look for, shape, and promote ways of understanding the arts. Further, these people and institutions can express their aesthetic ideas. However, from the point of view of Dewey’s claims about the democratic, pluralistic, and open character of aesthetics, if we take a closer look at its “nature” (if such a word is possible here at all) then we might come to the conclusion that pragmatism is to some degree exclusive, closed, and finite. In this case, our discussion does not only concern the limited compatibility of pluralistic and democratic aesthetics with types of aesthetics that are not pluralistic and not democratic. Dewey and his followers rejected or diminished the importance of some aesthetic concepts from the start. Regardless of the pragmatists’ intention(s), this rejection embraces: all or nearly all elitist and aristocratic concepts of the arts; all or nearly all absolutistic concepts of values; and all religious types of aesthetics that assume a transcendental approach. All these aesthetic concepts claim to possess true access to the realm of beauty, and all these concepts attempt to vindicate their claims philosophically. For example, let us consider the pragmatists’ approach towards Platonism and the Platonic tradition, which consists of tremendously significant types of aesthetics in different quarters. Pragmatism automatically ousts Platonism by institutionally promoting and philosophically vindicating the dynamic, the

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

119

active, the mobile, the mutable, the flexible, and the progressive. Platonists, on the other hand, promote and philosophically vindicate the static thing, the passive act, the definite object, and the final state of affairs. Platonists search for eternally valid essences, and formulate strict definitions. Let us continue to consider this example. The Pythagorean philosophers, who influenced Plato’s way of thinking on values, made a long lasting contribution to European aesthetics by articulating a concept whereby beauty results from harmony, order, symmetry, consonance, proportion, and mathematical regularity. The Pythagoreans further emphasized the compatibility of the parts of a given body, object, and state of things to each other. They gave this concept a strong metaphysical grounding, axiological dimension, and normative requirements. From a metaphysical point of view, the regularity of a given body, object, and state of thing corresponded to the regularity of the cosmos or the ordered structure of the universe. From an axiological point of view, the cosmos was seen as final, complete, and perfect. This order constituted, normatively, the ultimate standard for the arts, sciences, morality, politics, and cosmic justice (dike). From a practical viewpoint, a system of real values should be recognized and implemented into the arts. More broadly, it should be recognized and implemented into the social and private life so as to imitate or suit the cosmic perfection to the highest degree possible. This concept, with crucial modifications, provided perhaps the longest lasting aesthetic idea in the history of Western aesthetics. Many different philosophers and philosophical movements took on board and developed this idea, including: Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics, Vitruvius, Plotinus, St. Augustine, the philosophers of the Christian Middle Ages, the Renaissance neo-Platonists, and even the Renaissance naturalists. Many different philosophies appropriated this idea due to similar metaphysical references to an ontologically ordered reality, understood as: the Ideas, the Logos, the One, God, and Nature with her static and immutable laws (cf., Tatarkiewicz, 2006, pp. 80-85). Dewey correctly writes that what we call “values” was in classic philosophy “taken to be integrally incorporated in the very structure of the world” (Dewey, 1939/ 1960, pp. 2-3). Yet, he fails to mention the contemporary tendency, shared by pragmatism, to treat values as not integrally incorporated in the structure of the world. This results from a (different) vision of the structure of the world, no less radical, deprived of ens, verum, and bonum as its integral constituents. Many today, including the pragmatists, narrow or move these constituents to the realm of human affairs. The pragmatic approach to contemplative concepts of aesthetics, like the Platonic approach, has an ontological vindication. Yet pragmatism strikes against the contemplative model of aesthetics, religious or not, and stemming from Platonism or not, by focusing: on relations, instead of on a given static object; on the dynamism of the states of things, instead of on their frozen forms; on the practical consequences of actions, instead of on their long dead images; on the rhythms of nature, instead of on their essences; and on the

120

VALUES AND POWERS

pulsation of the world, instead of on its ultimately final Idea. Pragmatists dislike the emphasis on meditation, on seeing beauty, and on appreciating the perfection of the universe as the main aim of dealing with the arts and aesthetics. By interpreting these concepts in terms of social experience, as Dewey intended, pragmatism kills each and every form of transcendental aesthetics in traditional religions (i.e. Christianity, Islam, and others). For example, the pragmatic interpretation deprives Icon paining, practiced for ages in the Byzantine Church and in Christian Orthodox countries throughout Eastern Europe, of its fundamental meaning and its core. Pragmatists deprive Icon painting of its core, because, according to the claims of this aesthetic tradition, the painted image has a deeply spiritual and transcendental character. In this tradition, Icon painting cannot be rendered by means of the social categories proposed by the pragmatists. Additionally, pragmatists strongly advocate a rejection of the idea of disinterestedness in aesthetics (and elsewhere), widely held since the time of Arthur Schopenhauer, although some of its traits can be found in much earlier concepts. Pragmatists, along with utilitarians and behaviorists, convincingly and consequently opposed this idea by claiming that some interest always exists behind human action. This interest can be: direct or indirect; immediate or latent; calculable or incalculable; financial or moral; or done for earthly profit or heavenly illusions. Next, I will discuss the ontological ground upon which pragmatists would plant their vision of the betterment of aesthetic experience. The melioristic approach, so characteristic of the thought of pragmatists, aims to make a given body, object, act, and/or state of things better than it exists at a given moment or in a given place. In this perspective, the improvement of a practical situation for living people at a particular time and place, makes the approach worth while. From an ontological viewpoint, meliorism must assume a coherent and universal structure of the world and a more or less universal system of values. Without a coherent universal structure or system of values, any melioration or any form of social progress would be doubtful and ambiguous. For this reason, pragmatic aesthetics must be, willy-nilly, directed against those concepts and ideas that undermine an ordered structure of the world and universal system of values. For example, pragmatic aesthetics must oppose the avant-garde and other trends, such as postmodernism, that more or less directly referred to it. Let us further consider the philosophical (ontological) background of the avant-garde (for example, cubism, expressionism, and Dadaism). My rereading of Dewey’s aesthetics reveals its divergence, instead of convergence, with the avant-garde and the neo-avant-garde (cf., Wilkoszewska, 2003, pp. 172-176). Unlike my observations on the Pythagorean-Platonic tradition, we can observe strong symptoms of this change at the end of the nineteenth century and at the beginning of the twentieth century: in the art of the impressionists, by shifting attention from presentations of objective reality to the subjective perceptions of reality; in the psychology of Sigmund Freud, by showing the significance of the subjective sub-consciousness in life; in the

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

121

philosophy of Frederick Nietzsche, by the idea of the revaluation of all values and by the vitalistic idea of the Dionysian concept of arts; and in the avantgarde, by questioning the objective canons and the obligatory standards in arts. The groundwork for this shift had been laid much earlier: by the British empiricists (especially John Locke, George Berkeley, and David Hume) who stressed the problem of the (re)presentation of the external reality; by Immanuel Kant who rejected the possibility of cognitively getting to the thing itself; and by the social changes of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which witnessed growing egalitarian and “liberal” tendencies that would allow the appearance of more variegated artistic concepts and aesthetic approaches. As we can see, the latest two hundred years have brought a reorientation in understandings of art and aesthetics. In my view, an increasingly prevailing mood (felt by those who dealt with the arts and aesthetics) concerning the fragmentation, discontinuity, and contingency of what is commonly called “the reality,” largely (although not exclusively) caused this reorientation. More precisely, this shift reflected an inability of many artists, philosophers, and theoreticians to refer to stable, static, sure, and obvious metaphysical frames, philosophical categories (the truth, the good, and the beauty in the first place), axiological criteria, and the normative canons. Simultaneously and perhaps unavoidably, this change manifested a growing subjugation to what I would call a “culture of mobility,” or a preoccupation with a life abundant with invention, discovery, change, dynamics, shock, surprise, unpredictability, and uncertainty. To put it differently, many participants in the then cultural, artistic, and philosophical life realized that it was difficult or even impossible to objectively and normatively refer to artistic criteria, aesthetic standards, cognitive solutions, and ontological truths. In their opinion, these could be either easily undermined or ignored. The thoughts of Nietzsche, Freud, and the avant-garde did this conspicuously and evidently. These participants, left alone in this metaphysical vacuum, or state of cognitive uncertainty, faced axiological dilemmas. They had to deal alone with ultimate decisions: about what is good and what is bad; about what is beautiful and what is not; and about what is real and what is conventional, arbitrary, or fake. As a result, many people attempted practical experiments, or proposed new theories, which perceived reality in a new way. Others tried to better understand the “components” of reality, such as time and space, and even tried to re-construct reality (or in some of its parts) in a fresh way (as the cubists and Dadaists attempted). This reorientation also brought a prevailing sense of historical discontinuity, historiosophical contingency, and a loss of belief in the authority of tradition to many participants in the then artistic and philosophical life. For them, knowledge and wisdom accumulated over history could not recognize present problems satisfactorily and deal with the new challenges effectively. New generations coped with the problem of the status of reality, the place of man, the objectivity of values, and the general vision of the world without putting much hope in solutions offered by past masters.

122

VALUES AND POWERS

The link with the past became loose, if not completely lost. As a result, problems connected with the arts became more difficult to solve than before: the plurality of positions, the discrepancy of proposed results, and the uncertainty about ultimate conclusions appear to be growing nowadays. Individual philosophers, artists, men-of-letters, theoreticians, aesthetes, humanists, academics, and writers enjoy a relatively new privilege to submit (in print, at exhibitions, on television, on the Internet, etc.) and defend (in journals, interviews, lectures, and conference sessions) their particular visions of art, of beauty, of standards, and of values. The multitude of proposals goes beyond the apprehension of a single reader and probably makes him or her think that any obligatory canons and objective values are the least, instead of the most, crucial. A sense of chaos in the arts appears to have reached its peak. Let us return to Dewey’s and pragmatism’s exclusion of concepts that cannot share their (his or its) understanding of meliorism. If we examine the aesthetics of the avant-garde and its ontological assumptions, it would be quite difficult to find any sort of melioration (in the pragmatic sense) in them, because their vision of the universe was so fragmented that any canon or universal values could not be the ground for melioration. Radical individualism, not to say anarchism, in the avant-garde artists made it possible for them to look for atomistic concepts of arts, singular “canons,” ephemeral ideas, temporary insights, autonomous solutions, and private visions of the improvement the arts and morals. They conceived an ontological disunity and disorder of the structure of the universe, which denied the possibility of setting objective norms (both ethical and aesthetic), universal standards, comprehensive generalizations, and definite ways of improvement. 2. Freedom as Creation of Values In my opinion, it would not contradict Dewey’s aesthetics to claim that we inevitably deal with values and powers in aesthetics for many different reasons, which we can demonstrate with many examples. Each, or almost each, aesthetic idea can be examined from the point of view of its moral, immoral, and/or morally neutral message or calling. Once recognized, its moral character can become an idea that educational and cultural institutions (more or less powerful) can promote, ignore, and/or protest. Some of these institutions are financially and ideologically supported by the state, with its policies, at different levels. Similarly, each, or nearly each, aesthetic value or idea refers (directly or indirectly) to some vision of the world: ontologically ordered or chaotic; epistemologically cognizable or not; and/or religious or lay. Accordingly, it does not suit some visions, perhaps promoted within a given political system and a given social order, and ignores them or even condemns them as untrue. Also, we can judge each, or nearly each, work of art from the point of view of its power of expression, of shock, and/or of surprise. The work of art can,

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

123

depending upon artistic environment and aesthetic condition, influence viewers’ sense of satisfaction, pleasure, and beauty. More technically speaking, according to the idea of value proposed in the Introduction, we confront (aesthetic) values every time we approach agents (humans and, perhaps, the higher mammals), living bodies (animals and plants), things (objects), actions (deeds and activities), and states of affairs (facts, situations, and relations) in the context of how beautiful, satisfactory, pleasing, nice, important, and/or expressive they are, they can be, and/or they should be. We also confront aesthetic values when a realization, a possibility of realization, a lack of realization, and/or a destruction of beauty, satisfaction, pleasure, and expression should take place. Emphasizing the role of such an attitude in philosophy and aesthetics does not necessarily mean that reality and the arts (regardless of their ontological status) have, exclusively or primarily, an axiological character. It does not imply, for instance, that all agents, all things, all actions, and all facts are intrinsically or objectively beautiful or satisfactory. Instead, it means that we can see many, if not all, of them as potentially having a greater or lesser beauty and satisfaction than others. In this way, we can see a given agent, living body, thing, action, and state of affairs as one that should or should not be like this or like that, as better or worse, as more or less appropriate, as satisfactory to a greater or lesser number of people, and so on. There exist different ways to arrange aesthetic values according to the arrangement of social powers. We can see this in the more normative aspects and standards promoted (or even imposed) by means of the arts, artistic methods, fashions, and aesthetic ideologies. For example, if we include fashion in the realm of aesthetics, then we include in the group of experts all those who share their opinions about different fashions (by the act of buying or not buying). As a result, we exclude “traditional” artists from their role of deciders, and we deprive “conservative” academics of their “right” to impose the standards of high arts. If we concede that in this epoch the speed of life is widely practiced, then we cannot expect much meditation and contemplation, and contemplative attitudes decrease their meaning. If we want to promote a given aesthetic (and philosophical) option nowadays, we must have the tools to promote and implement these ideas by means of mass media in order to catch attention of the public. We can also see the arts and aesthetics as dependent on powers when we assume a selective and hierarchical approach towards agents, bodies, things, actions, and states of affairs. To put it differently, they select this or that part of reality (regardless of how we understand “reality” and its ontological status) and arrange its elements in such a way that some of its parts are more or less crucial, beautiful, inspirational, pleasant, satisfactory, worthy of attention, etc. Even when the arts claim to depict reality objectively (for instance, some forms of photography, documentaries, and diaries), they still focus upon this or that portion of the world and in this or that way. Hence, they indicate what the audience should pay special attention to, for one reason or another. At the same

124

VALUES AND POWERS

time, any reference made by the arts and aesthetics to “reality” faces, among other things, the inevitable problem of what is truer and how we get to know it better. This brings us into the vortex of the axiological involvement with the matter. As a result, I have doubts whether it would be possible to follow those artists and theoreticians who intentionally reject values and promote nonaxiological aesthetics or arts. According to the proposed understanding of values, any artistic focus results in a valuation made in the name of one’s interest, desire, originality, etc. From this point of view, we can observe a quite delicate borderline between democracy and exclusion. There exist some limits in democratic systems, regardless of how the “system” is defined, within which the freedom to create values is regulated, controlled, and licensed. We can see it as a factor of power exercised upon those deeds, actions, individuals, and institutions. 3. Democracy and Exclusion in Richard Shusterman’s Somaesthetics Pragmatism is stimulating in its emphasis on the role of the human body in arts and aesthetics. Richard Shusterman’s idea of somaesthetics, which aims at enjoying a better experience of the sensory and aesthetic perception by the human body, is deeply rooted in Dewey’s naturalistic aesthetics. Somaesthetics meets tendencies currently present in philosophy and cultural anthropology to emancipate the human body both as an object of aesthetic reflection, as a field of artistic expression, and as a spring of a good life. This sensitivity can have different dimensions, which pragmatists promote quite promisingly. To begin with, let me note that we can find many reasons why the human body should be considered in the realm of aesthetics, more than it has been in the humanistic tradition of the West. If we assume today’s perspective and examine this juncture from a sociological point of view, we will realize the immense popularity of the cultivation and perfection of the body, by means of: bodily hygiene (for example: cosmetics, surgery aesthetics, and diet); bodily beautification (for example: hair styling, make up, adhesive nails, tattoos, and piercing); physical exercises (for example: jogging, fitness, and body building); body language (for example: smiling, friendly gestures, and others); and last, but not least, fashion. From an axiological point of view, we can witness the present emancipation of the human body, along with a focus on hedonistic, intellectual, and spiritual potentialities. From a cultural point of view, we can see, especially since the Sexual Revolution of the late 1960’s, a de-tabooization of sexuality and an eroticization of life by means of the hardly limited presence of: nudity on beaches; topless swimming-pools; bikini-size costumes of sportswomen at sports contests; erotic clubs; pornography; and nudity in films, tabloids, the Internet, advertisements, and commercial presentations. Anthropologically, we can detect the techniques of mass media in their grand scale promotion of beautiful models of the female body. For example, we can see this promotion in Miss World Contests, by the Barbie doll, by movie

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

125

stars, and female television announcers. In all cases, women appear as slim, tall, long-legged, white-toothed, and smiling. From an epistemological point of view, we can examine the increase of bodily experiences generated by means of elevating corporal sensitivity in different ways, for instance in new types of experience (for example, in 3D cinemas, extreme sports) or in drug use. Finally, from a practical point of view, we can witness a boom in active models for everyday living. Here, the idea of self-creation consists, to a large degree, in working towards an attractive, strong, and healthy shape of our bodies. At this point let me explain that, in my view, we can theoretically justify discussing corporal values by indicating that the human body can be seen as something in which, and by which, the realization of values is possible. We can discuss values and evaluations every time we deal with anything that can be, theoretically, made better or worse. More exactly, we deal with values whenever we perceive agents, living bodies, things (objects), states of things (facts and situations), and/or actions (deeds and activities) as: successful or unsuccessful; more or less appropriate; more or less important; satisfactory or unsatisfactory to a greater or lesser number of people; or such that should or should not be like this or like that. We deal with values, in the context of the body, whenever we see the body as a place where latent potentialities can be actualized and developed, or when we see the body as a necessary tool (or set of tools) for the actualization of potentialities outside of the body itself (whether agents, other bodies, things, states of things, and/or actions). Ontologically, this understanding of the body does not necessarily imply an intrinsic or objective value of the body or its potentialities. Instead, it means that the body and its potentialities can be seen as the locus, or area, where greater or lesser values can be attained and cultivated. This depends upon the criterion or the criteria that has or have previously been presupposed as the basis for the evaluation. The whole complexity of the problem of the basis for evaluation, transcends aesthetics and encroaches on moral, religious, economic, social, and political issues. I wish to expand Aristotle’s claim (in Nicomachean Ethics, 1094a-1095a) that ethics is a part of politics into “aesthetics is a part of politics,” which also includes the human body. Namely, politics deserves a broader meaning, in a more profound context, since it takes place everywhere we deal with people, institutions, and centers of power exercising their might upon other people and other institutions. It influences their views, their behaviors, and their hierarchies of values. With this in mind, we can claim that the most intimate behaviors and the most personal impressions can be influenced, dominated, and regulated by external factors, such as: the system of education; the type of social hierarchy; the role of parents in family; the scope of individual freedom; the threat of social expulsion for violating accepted behaviors; and so on. These days, we take it for granted that the junction between aesthetics and the human body should be more and more explored in different aspects. All efforts in this direction, if profound and systematic, should be appreciated. For

126

VALUES AND POWERS

example, Shusterman’s idea of somaesthetics, as stated in “Somaesthetics and the Body/Media issue,” introduces a discipline that deals with the betterment of corporal positive experience, in the context of sensorial and aesthetic perception, which makes life better (cf., Shusterman, 2007, p. 75). I share his conviction about the significance of the practical dimension of body consciousness, and his reservations about the significance of purely theoretical speculations on the body-mind/soul problem. In the same way, I admire the importance that he places on the logic of gradation as a better way of approaching things than through categorical differentiations. Also, I appreciate his idea of thinking about ethics and aesthetics in a more mutually related way, instead of treating them as separate and autonomous. I share his concern about the axiological dimension of the body, or the melioration and development of corporal potentialities. I also share his respect towards the Epicureans, the Stoics, the Cynics, Michel de Montaigne, Henry David Thoreau, and Michel Foucault. We appreciate these individuals as philosophers, not professors of philosophy, and the attention they paid to nondiscursive experience. I also agree with him regarding the significance of aesthetic phenomena commonly classified as a low culture. As he writes about black music, such as rap and hip hop, I wonder whether we could explore the specificity of, say, the Polish punk movement during the Communist regime as an expression of social tensions. Most of all, I appreciate Shusterman’s efforts to show the theoretical and practical dimensions of the quality of life, and the ways to increase this quality here and now. Also, to some extent, I appreciate his construction of a postmodern type of auto-narration about life and its meaning. However, I perceive some limits in Shusterman’s published works. Shusterman and I agreed during a public discussion that took place during a conference devoted to his output, Between Politics and Aesthetics; Richard Shusterman’s Pragmatism (Wroclaw, Poland, March 8, 2008), that his published works do not present, for obvious reasons, the whole spectrum of his ideas. Accordingly, my interpretation refers only to his published works, instead of to what he may think about different issues. By “limits” in his published works, I mean three things: firstly, he writes more about troubled sexuality (homosexuality and sadomasochism), than about more “accessible” and practicable issues such as nudity, eroticism, and sexuality in general; secondly, he writes more about sophisticated techniques of breathing, than about physical exercises and non-professional sports in general; and thirdly, he writes more about particular drugs in Foucault, than about drugs, wine, and spirits in general. The consequence of Shusterman’s philosophical or somaesthetic message is, as I understand it, a promotion of: a “reasonable” or “controlled” or “limited” culture of nudity and sex; a culture of sports; and a culture of drinking. He does not explicitly promote these things, and I suspect that the moralistic restrictions of his cultural background (Jewish, American, and intellectual) might have influenced this restraint, although I am unable to

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

127

judge this definitely. At any rate, my question is as follows: if somaesthetics is the discipline that deals with the body as sensorial and aesthetic perception (aisthesis), why not embrace all that could make for a richer, more profound, healthier, and happier life, including sex and wine? I am also concerned by Shusterman’s emphasis upon the specificity of philosophical life and its privileged role in the context of somaesthetics. I have a problem with delineating the confines of philosophical life and contrasting it with non-philosophical life (artistic, spiritual, scientific, political, etc.). Shusterman’s message, especially in Practicing Philosophy. Pragmatism and the Philosophical Life, although interesting and worthy of analysis, appears “sectarian,” if such a word can be used in this case. His message manifests something that I would call “philosophical partisanship,” which I deem to be abortive. I view it as abortive, because philosophers are no more predisposed than any other professional group to deal with corporal values in a special way. I believe that the perfunctory observation of this professional group can confirm that. An approach towards corporal values, in their complexity and variety, can be worked out and cultivated by individuals irrespective of their professional affiliation. Although, I must admit, the self-image of a given professional group, no matter how illusory, is a crucial attempt to elevate the meaning of the group, give it unity, and assume a special role in society. These attempts, in the context of the body, are made by priests (with their idea of the renunciation of corporal pleasures), mystics (claiming to be able to go through corporal obstacles), intellectuals (giving priority to reason over the flesh), sportsmen (with the idea of the corporal perfectionism), soldiers (cultivating toughness), Yogins (cultivating corporal perseverance), karate masters (boasting of their staying power), and many others. It should be noted that philosophers have profoundly and systematically studied and articulated different theoretical models for a good life. Yet this does not mean that philosophers explore this issue better than non-philosophers, or that philosophers are happier and live better lives than non-philosophers. Living in a typically gigantic Eastern European post-Communist housing estate, I often wonder how many unknown and unheard of heroic actions and beautiful lives hide behind the windows of ten-story blocks of flats. I wonder how philosophers have created a self-image by referring constantly to the figure of Socrates, living twenty-five centuries ago, while failing to see the Socrateses in their vicinity. For these and other reasons, I avoid any reference to the philosophical life. Instead, I treat the problem of somaesthetics in a more general context. Also, I would like to suggest some developments, although I am unsure whether Shusterman would see them as acceptable. Three of these developments refer directly to the proposal put forward by Shusterman. Two other developments come from the Polish avant-garde writers, Witkacy (Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz) and Witold Gombrowicz, who, in my view, are representatives of somaesthetics on Polish soil for two reasons: namely, they

128

VALUES AND POWERS

stressed the significance of gestures, facial expressions, and corporal deformations in articulations of values; and, even more crucially, they tried to unify life with philosophy and the arts. The idea of somaesthetics is quite risky in one respect. Namely, talking about the body in an aesthetic context must, willy-nilly, lead us to confront controversial issues (such as: nudism, eroticism, sexual promiscuity, and pornography) related to the beauty of the body and the intensification of corporal experience. In this respect, we should congratulate Shusterman for his intellectual courage, although I am unsure if he has fully met these challenges. He does promote these (or some of these) controversial issues, but he does not write about them much. Yet, if we assume the principles of somaesthetics, we can see the body: as a source for exploring impressions; as a seat of values to be actualized; as a vital site for experience; as a fertile field for the enrichment of aesthetic experience; and as an area for self-realization. The body appears here as the center of somaesthetic experience. It is not merely an object to be used and, perhaps, abused as claimed by the moralists protesting against the objectification of body theory. For example, the idea of nudism, as I understand its promoters, attempts to eliminate conventional obstacles and to stimulate corporal sensitivity to better feel the omnipresent beauty of nature. As regards sexuality, we deal with the attractions of the body in aesthetic, emotional, cognitive, and intimate dimensions. These dimensions differ from mere copulation, and completely differ from rape and other forms of sexual abuse, including child pornography. In my opinion, the development of different sexual techniques, the perfection of love affair activities, the stimulation of emotions in lovers, and the cumulating experience can lead to the aims proposed by somaesthetics, with the conditions that affair is done consciously, with consent, care, respect, and affection. Drinking presents a similar situation. I would like to indicate, at the beginning, that by “drinking” I mean “the culture of drinking,” or a moderated stimulation of the senses by means of tasting a beverage. In this respect, moderate amounts of high quality wine would be the best option, instead of the unfortunate intoxication of organisms, practiced in different quarters. When consumed appropriately (in form, amount, and circumstances), alcohol excites the senses, animates the imagination, energizes the will, enlivens social relations, and sophisticates the sense of taste. I suspect that the danger of influencing volition and clarity of speculative powers, in a state of alcoholic excitement, is the main reason why thinkers have some reservations about wine and other beverages in the context of philosophy. This, however, does not explain why they tolerate other types of excitement, which no less influence volition and mind. For example, they tolerate love, happiness, unhappiness, and despair. There even exist philosophical movements, like existentialism, which emphasize the special role of extreme states, especially despair, both in life and philosophy.

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

129

In the third example, non-professional sports in daily life, the perfective dimension of non-professional sports (stressed in the idea of the modern Olympic Games and re-animated by Baron Pierre de Coubertin) strongly refers to the Greek idea of kalokagathia. This idea is the key-issue for those, like me, who sympathize with the essential message of Olympicism or the current philosophy of the Olympiad. At the same time, we can wonder why Shusterman emphasizes two or three disciplines (or somatic techniques), which in his view are better than so many other ways of improving the quality of the corporal condition and the corporal consciousness. I confess, I might be slightly prejudiced since for over twenty-five years I have been a sportsman. Yet, this long experience (both as a practitioner and instructor) has revealed that with few exceptions (ideological, sectarian, and mercantile) there exist no reasons to present an essential difference between particular disciplines (in sports that engage the exercises of the entire body, instead of its particular parts and functions, like chess, bridge, car-driving, golf, parachuting, etc.), as regards the overall condition of the body. In my view, we cannot separate this or that discipline. We cannot elevate some techniques (for instance, breathing techniques, yoga, and the martial arts) over others (for instance, cross country running, gymnastics, swimming, athletics, dancing, and boxing). Also, I believe that it is mythical to claim that students of, say, yoga are more conscious about their bodies than students of, say, gymnastics. Instead, the real difference is whether we exercise actively and regularly (instead of sporadically), correctly (practicing under a good instructor instead of a bad one), consciously (instead of mechanically), systematically (with daily and weekly routine), comprehensively (for example, under dietetic regime, with no addictions), and suitably to our predispositions (mental, physical, and emotional). Instead of promoting some disciplines and techniques, I would prefer an increase in the role of non-professional sports in everyday life, in general, along with its necessary ingredients. These ingredients include systematicity, discipline, dedication, and a modicum of technical, medical, and philosophical reflection in order to gain a deeper insight into what you practice. Next, I propose that we briefly consider another dimension of somaesthetics, suggested by the most eminent representative of the avant-guarde in Poland, Witkacy (or S.I. Witkiewicz). He examined what I call “private imagination,” illustrated by the corporal deformation manifested in his arts. I wish to juxtapose Witkacy, by means of the term “private imagination,” with Dewey’s, and perhaps Shusterman’s, ideas relating to the individual and the community. Namely, Witkacy has a catastrophic vision of the future due his fear that mass culture will kill the individual spontaneity and spiritual singularity of each and every particular member of society by imposing more and more uniform norms, standards, and hierarchies of values. He articulated this fear in his art (especially in his painting) and also in his life (when he provoked strange situations) by means of corporal deformities, pulling faces,

130

VALUES AND POWERS

changing countenance, suggestive facial expressions, manipulating visages, stressing the role of look, assuming this or that posture, etc. If we agree that the term “form” means, among other things, rule, order, definition, shape, and regularity, then “de-formation” would mean a lack of rules, a rejection of an accepted definition, and a search for a new shape. In the context of corporal values, we will have a strong desire to construct or re-construct the self-image. Witkacy’s aesthetics of deformation aimed to detect the potentialities of the body, including its dynamic plasticity and flexibility, in assuming different images in different social and political contexts. Similar techniques, although used for different aims, appear in the philosophical literature of Witkacy’s friend Gombrowicz, who wanted to show the crucial and conquering role of somatic aesthetics in inter human relations. I suspect that we can see this in one of the issues that makes him so different from Shusterman, who in the last sentences of Practicing Philosophy claims that we do not have to deal with aesthetic auto-creation, if we do not want to. In Gombrowicz, we must deal with it, and our only choice consists in striving to assume this or that form of self-image. For example, he preferred the term “mug,” instead of “face,” to express the power of the social image imposed upon each of us by others and by us upon others, at the cost of losing our face even in privacy when we deal with a mug or image of ourselves instead of the genuine expression. As he explains, in Ferdydurke, “[t]here is no escape from the mug, other than into another mug” (Gombrowicz, 1938[1937]/2000, p. 281). As an image creation strategy to produce one’s mug, instead of waiting for one to be imposed, Gombrowicz practiced auto-narration in his diaries. They begin with a famous declaration of their main theme: Monday Me. Tuesday Me. Wednesday Me. Thursday Me (Gombrowicz, 1957/1989, p. 9). Let me conclude by stating that Shusterman follows the great masters of pragmatism, James and Dewey, in their anthropocentrism and focus on human bodies. The beauty of non-human bodies, both living (for instance, highly developed Bonobo chimps) and non-living (for instance, the celestial sphere), await philosophical exploration. Perhaps, then, aesthetic exploration of works of art, taken as semi-independent seats of values and powers, is more possible within pragmatic aesthetics?

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

131

4. Joseph Margolis and Work of Art as a “Seat” of Values and Powers Pragmatists, along with some representatives of the avant-garde, contribute to contemporary aesthetics by obliterating the borderline between art and non-art. This includes obliterating the gap between the maker/author of art and the receiver/viewer of art. Pragmatists reject the passivity of the receiver/viewer and claim that the experiences of both the maker/author and receiver/viewer are similar in terms of selection, arrangement, and completion. In this way, they both constitute the meaning of a given work of art. This borderline between art and non-art is also lost or reduced in a given piece of work when it embraces the past, the present, and the future. This borderline is lost or reduced, for example, when a given masterpiece is complex enough to serve as a meeting place of the historical heritage, of the present action, and of any future aims. I believe that each and every work of art, whether great or not, can be made better in different ways. We can see all works of art as: more profound in different aspects; as more amazing to a greater number of people; as giving a deeper sense of enchantment; and as producing more impressions among a bigger number of receivers. It should be noted that we can talk more about a great work of art, than about any work of art. I understand “greatness,” in terms of art, as the capability of a work to encompass, more than other works of art that are not “great,” an expressive and condensed substance given to it by, or from, an author or authors together with the elements of the historical and cultural background transmitted by this author while making the work of art. On the other, its “greatness” also means its capability to exercise influence upon its readers/viewers. This capability means that we can detect, in a “great” work of art, profound axiological depth and strength of impact upon the receiver/viewer in one or more areas. A great work of art or a masterpiece contains a unique internal world, which radiates its message amongst those able to perceive it (if not influencing them in the process). If such a theory is true, which I contend is the case, then we have a good start to rethink the status and the role of a work of art in the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism (and, also, outside of it). In my opinion, Joseph Margolis is exceptional, regarding the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism, in ascribing huge meaning to works of art (understood as separate masterpieces), and his inspirational studies on this issue are worthy of our attention. I will refer, to some degree, to Margolis’ famous definition of works of art, as “physically embodied and culturally emergent entities” (Davies, 1991, p. 162). Yet, I will extend this definition into the context of values and powers. In What, After All, is a Work of Art? Lectures in the Philosophy of Art, Margolis places the arts in the context of external milieu, and ascribes a huge role to historical and cultural contexts in shaping our understanding of the arts.

132

VALUES AND POWERS

Simultaneously, he refers to the ontological problems of the work of art. Margolis discusses the specificity of a work of art, its status, and its communicative role. Yet, he does not say much about a work of art as (to use a controversial term) a “seat” of values and a “seat” of powers, which is aggrandized and explored in relation to the scope of its grandeur and greatness. By this, I do NOT suggest any Platonic, absolutistic, and objectivistic tendencies to see values as eternally lying in a given work of art. Instead, from the point of view of values, I think in terms of the potentiality of a given work of art. This is especially the case when a work of art is: complex in its internal organization; rich in reference to the external world; unique in its form(s); strong in evoking impressions amongst the viewer/receivers; and attractive for many of them. Namely, a work of art can contain or present a semi-independent world of values, with its unique axiological message or messages, and its semi-normative claims. Its power of expression, though, is more or less influential amongst some of its receivers/viewers. I do not see a given work of art as fully autonomous, completely independent, and totally isolated from the external world. Instead, I stress its partial independence and quasi-autonomy. By this, I mean that its external form and its internal substance can be detected, explored, and referred to as a more or less integral unity. A work of art is a micro-cosmos, which has a precise arrangement of beauties, charms, and expressiveness. It consists of a physically separate unity and culturally singular world, which appears in the relations within the story, told or shown in the work. It also appears in the figures that articulate the worldviews, within a given hierarchy of values, and in a context hardly repeatable elsewhere. All this creates an axiological message on worthy things, noble actions, authority figures, and the valuable vision of the universe that can be transmitted and promoted. A work of art can also reveal someone’s history, experience, and sensitivity. It can reveal the way he or she perceives the world with its unique beauties, complexities, and arrangements. From this, the receiver/viewer of a work of art can take sundry excitements, wisdoms, news, and suggestions. He or she can receive the means for self-identification, loyalty to a given culture, modes of evaluation, and many other things that cannot be found in such a form elsewhere. I do not use the term “seat” of values, in the context of a work of art, to suggest that a given work of art should be seen in isolation, or as a work taken by itself, without any reference to the outer world. A work of art is not independent from human needs and hopes, from a cultural background, from the technical possibilities of a given tradition to produce the art, or from many other factors. Otherwise, no one would be able to recognize and understand the work of art. I understand the term “seat” of values to mean that a given work of art encompasses an arrangement of objects and states of affairs in such a way that it can hardly be repeated elsewhere. Its forms of presenting the world of values, along with the intensity of values and their expressiveness, cannot be found anywhere else in such an arrangement. At the same time, a work of art,

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

133

understood as a “seat” of values, can offer a message or messages about values that has or have a meaning unuttered by any other medium in any other form: whether in a unique situation; by means of a unique way of expressing it; by means of an arrangement of its parts; and/or by means of referring to the outer world in this way, instead of another. On the other hand, we can see a work of art as a “seat” of powers, whereby an integral part of a work of art is its “power” to attract references by receivers/viewers as: a “grand” work of art; as “attractively” presented; as “originally” composed; as an expression of “eminent” trend; as one that reveals the “truth” about something; and as one that calls upon us to make a difference. The significance of a given work of art often manifests its presence in the cultural life of a given country, if not a given civilization. For example, some works of art are fixed in such institutions of public life as schools and universities, and others are evoked by the members of a given culture in moments of celebrations and public rituals. Ordinarily, in the practice of public institutions, which are the most powerful places to promote the arts, given works and their potentialities are discussed, interpreted, re-read, complemented, supplemented, and elevated to the level of the “classical” works. The subject of a work of art does not have to be “real,” or one that has factually taken place, and it does not have to refer to a real situation or real people. Yet, a work of art must present values that are seen as real. For a reader/viewer, there can be no essential difference between, say, an action presented in a work of art and an action realized in real life. Both, if plainly articulated, have a dramatic circumstance, and can be remembered and referred to by readers/viewers and witnesses who can feel the authenticity of values present in the work. For example, in the case of Sophocles’ Antigone, some of us can recognize the real or authentic tragedy. In some genres, film offers a good example, viewers can see the work many times. In films, directors can evoke, stress, and promote an image and sense of valuable states of things or situations due to different methods of making it more “attractive.” For example, a film can be accompanied by an appropriate type of music as a background to the action. Likewise, directors can penetrate their viewers’ emotions by arranging the story differently, by increasing or decreasing the amount of tension, or by presenting some scenes (for example, the death of the protagonist) in slow motion. Let us turn to the problem of comprehension of a given work of art. When millions of cinemagoers, or book readers, get to know the protagonist, it does not mean that they have understood the whole movie or book. Quite often, probably in most cases, readers/viewers only remember part of a work of art, and the rest is forgotten, overlooked, and put somewhere in the background. In such situations, the protagonist would stand for the book (film) or would mistakenly function in the minds of readers (viewers) as almost being the same as the whole book (film). The values of works of art are, in this way, reduced to the values presented by a part of the work of art. For example, an entire book or

134

VALUES AND POWERS

film reduced to the heroic act of the protagonist, or to a love affair between the protagonist and a female or male character. This does not mean that a reference to real life should not be apparent. Many eminent works of art, which present a close reference to real life, make the message more powerful amongst the viewer/readers. For example, in my view, this is illustrated by poem written in commemoration of the World Trade Center victims of 9/11 by the Nobel Prize winning Polish poet Wisława Szymborska. This poem also shows how a (great) work of art can radiate with an axiological, especially moral and social, message accompanied by aesthetic attractiveness in a variety of ways. The poem evokes an emotional reaction for the readers, keeping the suspense within the course of the action, and suggesting a noble reaction to what has irreversibly happened: They jumped from the burning floorsone, two, a few more, higher, lower. The photograph halted them in life, and now keeps them above the earth toward the earth. Each is still complete, with a particular face and blood well hidden. There’s enough time for hair to come loose, for keys and coins to fall from pockets. They’re still within the air’s reach, within the compass of places that have just now opened. I can do only two things for themdescribe this flight and not add a last line (Szymborska, 2005). Generally, we can say (and I do not think that Margolis would protest this opinion), that the notion of aesthetic experience should be broader than is commonly understood. It would be nearly impossible to imagine a purely aesthetic experience, I mean, taking into account exclusively aesthetic factors, such as: beauty, sublimity, charm, composition, unity, and many others. Moral, metaphysical, religious, social, political, and psychological issues are quite

Democracy, Exclusion and Aesthetics

135

strong in many works of art. In different proportions, these issues (no less than aesthetic factors) constitute its axiological message and its power of expression. We can detect values whenever anyone makes a serious approach towards the work of art. Different layers of the work can “show” their values. The same deeds, situations, and agents can be seen, every time, from a fresh viewpoint and re-read differently. The variety and profundity of a “great” work of art exist when the work appears complex and inspirational every time that it is approached, read, re-read, interpreted, and/or discussed. The other aspect of this problem is the unity of the work of art. For example, if we separately consider a film’s plot, protagonists, music, and ideas, then it would be hardly possible to treat them as a whole. It would be necessary to decide whether a valuable work of art means the collection of valuable protagonists, deeds, and states of things. I believe that the problem of integral unity is secondary, in the context of values and powers, because the work’s expressiveness can be quite powerful and its values “located” in different places in the work. As a result, an author can produce a valuable work intentionally disintegrated. The dilemma, so copiously examined in European aesthetics, of whether readers/viewers impose values on a work of art and its parts or, instead, whether a work of art and its parts possess value is, in my view, wrongly put. It reminds us of the idea, popular in classical aesthetics, of the author (and the audience) as separate from the work. In my view, it is impossible to maintain the separation or isolation of a work of art from its external world, and I am glad that Margolis shares this view. The significant role of the receiver/viewer/reader of a work of art explains why some phenomena, controversial due to their poor form, can be seen as works of art. For example, Fountain, by Marcel Duchamp, is not a work of art because of its internal excellence (it would be difficult to see any excellence in a urinal on a gallery pedestal). Instead, Fountain is a work of art because it is a voice of rebellion against the condition of Western arts and aesthetics at the beginning of the twentieth century. More precisely, Fountain protested against the assumption that everything located in a gallery was an excellent work of art. The value of a work of art can never be definitely settled. New contexts will appear, and new generations will find new meanings and re-read old works of art afresh. Accordingly, it is hardly possible for us to impose any limits, whether: axiological (new values); aesthetic (new interpretations of the meaning and role of the given work); or “physical” (new sequels to existing films, books, songs, etc.). Every so often, we learn that a work of art has been elevated to the level of a masterpiece due to the discovery of its authorship by a famous painter. Sometimes, a high value of a work collapsed due to a discovery that it was a copy instead of an original, although no part of the work was destroyed, spoiled, or injured. For these reasons, I believe that the outer world of a work of art has a strong influence upon estimations of its value, and in this respect my opinion does not differ much from Margolis’.

136

VALUES AND POWERS

I also agree with Margolis regarding the huge role of historical and cultural contexts in aesthetics. From my point of view, the role of education systems, wherein authors and viewers/readers acquire knowledge about the arts, is tremendously significant. Similar types of training at school and university, where education systems are more or less coherent in a given country and a given culture, make it possible to code and decode works of art, and to distinguish “higher” art from “lower” art. Sometimes, the role of the system of education, among many other things, explains: how books should be read; whether they should be read at all; and which authors are eminent and noble. This contribution of education systems cannot be ignored while discussing the value of the works of art.

Seven EVALUATIVE CHARACTER OF SOCIAL INTERACTIONS IN GEORGE HERBERT MEAD George Herbert Mead, one of the leaders of the Chicago School of Pragmatism, is famous and influential for, amongst other things, his theoretical achievements in social psychology. The present chapter will not merely repeat these achievements. Instead, it presents a re-reading of some of these achievements by pointing out the constitutive role of values and powers (as previously defined) in three areas. Firstly, I argue that, if we follow Mead’s claim that interactions between organisms are the necessary conditions for social lives, then we will see the strength of the stimuli, leading to an appropriate reaction, and the quality of these stimuli. These are necessary conditions to live social lives, and they are also the basic factors for these organisms to survive and develop. If the stimulus is not powerful enough and its worth abortive, then the reaction to this stimulus will not take place. If it does take place, then it will be weak and insignificant. If it is not powerful or adequate enough, then it will endanger the proper adjustment of the living organism to the external environment. Secondly, the definition of value, presented in Mind Self and Society, is “the future character of the object in so far as it determines your action to it” (Mead, 1934, p. 5). Accordingly, an agent or a group of agents must commit an effective action in order to achieve the realization of the “character of the object.” This realization requires some definite aim, or some more or less pointed target, in the name of which or in reference to which an act or a series of acts has or have been launched. This necessarily takes place (directly or indirectly and consciously or not) in reference to values. In the process of an organism’s adaptation to external conditions, the organism takes into account valuable (not worthless or axiologically neutral) objects and states of affairs as the significant and long-term aims, targets, and ends. In this way, organisms deal with objects or states of affairs and their characters or meanings. Thirdly, values and powers matter when an organism attempts to influence another organism, or when a group of organisms attempt to influence an organism and/or a group of organisms. As a result, in the processes of interaction between them and/or among them, one of them is strong enough to make others react to (and eventually accommodate to) conditions and aims imposed on them by the strongest. Mead, like other pragmatists, does not provide a theory of the relation between values and powers. Yet, I argue that his reference to values and powers

138

VALUES AND POWERS

is constitutive, and that the relation between values and powers is mutually interdependent. Without this relation, it would be hardly possible to maintain his version of pragmatism, along with his ideas of social behaviorism, social interaction, and social progress. In this regard, he has strongly contributed to the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. 1. Evaluative Character of Acts and Gestures Mead, in accordance with his idea of social behaviorism, describes the basic mechanisms of communal life, both human and non-human (animal), by means of actions and reactions of organisms to one another. This chapter does not present an outline of Mead’s system, but instead discusses some points in the context of values and powers and their role(s) in his thought. Mead points to an “organism” (living in a group) as a crucial unit in the mechanisms of communal life. Accordingly, he makes the (central) nervous system of the organism the ultimate point of reference in the recognition of what is good and bad for the organism. Namely, the nervous system of the organism “equips” it with a sensorial system. The nervous system determines how the organism acts or reacts to the external world, and specifies the type and the intensity of the organism’s reception of (and reaction to) the external world. During the set of interactions between organisms and the external world, organisms adapt well to both external conditions and other members of their social group. These interactions enable organisms to thrive and facilitate their social coexistence. Their actions become more effective in self-development and self-realization, according to their biological predispositions and their individual characters. They react to stimuli and call forth stimuli in others within a complicated net of social process, which is primary or basic to individuals’ conscious recognition of the social process. According to Mead, the execution of social acts is so basic for an organism, that it can take place without the organism’s realization. For example, the social behavior of, say, dogs takes place regardless of the dogs’ level of awareness of their social behavior. As regards values, organisms evaluate nearly every act that they commit to determine their future consequences. This evaluation is not necessarily intellectual, because evaluations performed by animals have a more instinctive, emotional, and behavioral character. The act or gesture ought be valuable and evaluative in the sense that it should contribute to an increase in the organism its ability to achieve a valuable object or a state of thing. Otherwise, acting in its best interest, the organism should abandon the act or gesture and not practice it longer. In this interpretation of Mead, I come close to the thought of Mead’s eminent disciple, Charles W. Morris. Morris claimed that an organism or an individual has to evaluate objects and states of things (situations) whenever choosing whether to prefer this object or this situation, instead of another object or situation. For Morris, the act of preference or rejection equals an evaluation of what is being preferred and/or rejected by the organism (cf., Morris, 1964, p.

Mead and Social Interaction

139

16-17). Let me add, I do not follow Morris in narrowing our axiology to organisms’ preferences. We should also examine the value, as the objective part of axiological reflection (cf., BuczyĔska-Garewicz, 1975, pp. 254-256). In more advanced forms of life, with a more complex means of communication (language), the mechanism of stimulus and reaction continues and has significance. In this case, language is a factor that stimulates and provokes a reaction in both the speaking individual and in the individual spoken to. The force of the stimulus (internal in the speaker, and external in the other) evokes a reaction that, in turn, can stimulate other reactions. As regards the knowledge of the object, the role of stimulus/reaction is still valid. As Mead writes, “[o]ne perceives the object in terms of his response to it” (Mead, 1934, p. 114). Mead places such a huge emphasis upon the importance of the stimulating/reactive approach towards life, in all levels of its development, that its application appears in the most sophisticated forms of life, including the arts. For example, the artist (whether musician or sculptor): [t]hrough the indication of the stimuli each is able to bring in the reflection of the complexities of a response. Now, if one can bring in a number of these and get a multiform reflection of all these attitudes into harmony, he calls out an aesthetic response which we consider beautiful. It is the harmonizing of these complexities of response that constitutes the beauty of the object (ibid., p. 87). The communicative, interactive, and inter-subjective character of relations between organisms makes it inevitable that they react to stimuli in different scales of intensification. Yet, crucially, these reactions imply both values and powers. Individuals, whether humans or animals, do not react in the same way to each and every stimulus that happens to occur. They react differently to vitally more important (ampler, communicatively richer, and inter-subjectively fuller) stimuli than to less vitally important stimuli. Some power must exist to incite a reaction in others regarding the meaning of the object (as it takes place in significant symbol). Also, some quality of communicative meaning of this reaction must exist. Without this quality, the growth of the organism, which reacts to stimuli, would be endangered in the long run. Namely, a reaction to a non-vitally important stimulus (one that does not follow the “existential” interests of the organism, with its biological demands, with its natural predispositions, and with its social requirements) would decrease its potential and its ability to succeed in its development as an organism and as a member of a group of organisms. At this point, I will not go into detail regarding the roles that different gestures, significant symbols, and meanings play in Mead’s philosophy. Yet, we can interpret them as forms of communicative actions (cf., Koczanowicz, 2008, p.222), which necessarily refer to values and powers. An organism pays attention to one stimulus, instead of others, largely due to the power of the stimulus, which is directed at the receiving organism. When

140

VALUES AND POWERS

the power of a stimulus is too faint, it will not attract anyone’s attention. Yet, this does not imply that organisms notice and react to all powerful stimuli. Amongst the powerful stimuli, organisms prioritize and pay attention to some, and ignore others. All this takes place according to the organizational acting of the organism, which tries to arrange elements of the outside world while adapting to external and internal conditions. Organisms, when healthy, never passively receive stimuli. At all times, organisms select (out of so many choices) particular objects, situations, and possibilities. From another point of view, we can say that not all stimuli, put forward by an organism or by a natural phenomenon, attract the attention of the reacting organisms. Many stimuli are not vitally important, and they require hardly any reaction. However, organisms have to react to some situations and objects. For example, if an organism ignores or fails to recognize a danger, then the organism risks undermining its efficient functioning and its able performance. Apart from this, organisms do not have to react to some situations and objects, because some stimuli are not strong enough to attract attention or to be seen as significant. When such situations emerge, organisms indicate and then select (or pay attention to) some situations, objects, or states of things (out of many at hand). In my interpretation, which I think Mead would accept, we can label as “evaluation” an organism’s “indication,” “selection,” and/or “paying attention to” some stimuli. It can be labeled as evaluation, because while reacting to stimuli and while stimulating other organisms, the organism directs itself according to its vital interests. In Mead’s naturalistic behaviorism, the vital interests of particular organisms (although he stresses the social and communal role in the development of a singular organism) are: the growth of the organism; its accommodation to the natural environment; its cooperation with its group; and its success in the development of its biologically determined and socially equipped potentialities. As Mead writes in The Philosophy of the Act: the act may be presented in terms of the feeling of hunger, the sense of effort in reaching for what is attractive to vision, smell, and taste, and the enjoyment of the food as actually eaten. Here we are dealing with phases which have been represented as states of consciousness parallel with excitements of the central nervous system that are conceived as aroused by sensory processes. They are all ultimates in the different parts of the whole act. They are want, effort, and satisfaction. They are all values. It is true that hunger and effort lead up to the actual eating with its enjoyment, but they are not indifferent means. As values they do not enter into the mechanical series of physical changes which are stated in terms of the bodily organism as a mechanism of physical things. They appear in experience, however, more or less embodied in things. The distress of hunger is localized. The food and the implements by which it is carried to the mouth and the sapid and odorous comestible in the

Mead and Social Interaction

141

mouth are all things. Still they are things which in direct experience have values (Mead, 1938, pp. 451-452). Even at the micro-level of social behaviors of organisms, the very indication (or pointing out) of a particular object, a particular state of things, and/or a particular possibility, has an evaluative character. Organisms, in the name of their vital interests, notice some parts of the environment and approach them as worthy of attention or worthy of dealing with. Organisms notice and approach accessible portions of the world in the hope (justified by intuition and confirmed by experience) of satisfying vital aims. For example, in the case of eating, when human language identifies a given object as “food” or “edible,” a process of evaluation takes place. We can describe this as an “evaluation whether this or that object will satisfy my needs as regards hunger and nutrition.” In this process, a given object is selected from many other objects as the one to be consumed. The other objects are ignored and left as, what human language calls, “non-food” or “non-edible.” In more or less the same way, an organism that evaluates other organisms is, at the same time, evaluated by them, and this evaluation occurs in the name of similar vital (and non-vital) interests. Organisms make evaluations whenever they view situations from the point of view of their vital interests, for example when looking for food, for protection, for reproduction, or for many other forms of living a social life. Following Mead’s advice, we can state that organisms are unable to escape this estimative circle and look objectively or neutrally at the surrounding world. All organisms view things and states of things (including other organisms) from the point of view of given interests (both communal and individual), particular needs, and singular expectations. If we consider gesture, or, as Meads puts it, the basic mechanism allowing a social process to take place and continue, we will see that it is impossible to understand this mechanism without a reference to powers. Powers, in different ways and in different scales, are involved in any interaction, and have different degrees of intensification. In Mind Self and Society, Mead explains: [Gesture] stands for the act as far as it affects the other form. The threat of violence, such as a clenched fist, is the stimulus to the other form for defense or flight. It carries with it the import of the act itself. I am not referring to import in terms of reflective consciousness, but in terms of behavior. For the observer the gesture means the danger and the response of the individual to that danger. It calls out a certain sort of an act (Mead, 1934, pp. 53-54). At the same time, it would be hardly possible to understand gestures and social interactions without a reference to values. Organisms have vital interests to select impulses and stimuli adequately, without exaggerating their potentiality

142

VALUES AND POWERS

or ignoring their meaning. When the organism reacts adequately, instead of inadequately, it has a better chance to successfully develop and accommodate external environments (both social and natural). Mead writes about the “appropriate responses” of organisms who find themselves in many sorts of social relations. We can interpret this “appropriateness” axiologically, since the responses must accord with the organism’s needs and interests, or in the name of their realization of valuable things. Simultaneously, this “appropriateness” should correspond to an adequate interpretation of external conditions, so that organisms do not confuse the good or the profitable with the dangerous (to its existence and health). Gestures, then, become tools calling forth the reactions of other organisms that, following the reply to the reactions, react to the called forth reactions. During this process, the strength of the reactions depends, to large degree, on the intensity of the stimuli. Let us consider an example provided by Mead (cf., p. 44) regarding the stimulation of a mother’s interest by a child’s cry. The adequacy of the mother’s care depends upon the power of the child’s cry, and the adequacy of the child’s reaction depends upon the mother’s intervention and consolations. Gestures do not compose the whole of the social process, but in conversational gestures we can discuss “the preparation for the full social process” (ibid., p. 54). In this case, we should understand the role that values and powers play in the most basic level of social life. At this micro-level of social interaction, a clash of forces takes place that decisively shapes other and higher forms of collective life. A stronger or more powerful form of gesture, and/or a gesture at a higher level in the development of human life, is a significant gesture or a significant symbol, which Mead defines as a gesture that evokes a reaction and an idea in another organism (cf., p. 45). It expresses an action in one individual and calls out the meaning of the action in another individual. Accordingly, a significant symbol is more effective, more pregnant with meaning, and a more powerful means used by organisms in social life. Significant symbols help in the readapting of agents, and the rearrangement of objects and states of affairs: In short, the conscious or significant conversation of gestures is a much more adequate and effective mechanism of mutual adjustment within the social act-involving, as it does, the taking, by each of the individuals carrying it on, of the attitudes of the others toward himself—than is the unconscious or non-significant conversation of gestures (ibid., p. 46). Gestures, deprived of their power to influence other organisms, lose their significance and become impotent. These gestures die or evolve into some other form of gestures. Communication between organisms cannot alone make a gesture significant. The effects of the acts, which organisms involved in the conversation react to, also make a gesture significant. This may explain why Meads pays so much attention to the effects of the acts. Mead writes that the

Mead and Social Interaction

143

“significance” of a gesture is assumed when the gesture is conscious. On the other hand, the consciousness of the gesture would not be of great significance, if it did not contribute “more efficiency” towards the realization of an action. Likewise a gesture would be less significant if it did not evoke in others a tendency to react according to the call sent by the first organism. 2. Evaluative Character of Meaning Mead follows John Dewey’s idea, expressed in the fifth chapter of Experience and Nature, according to which “meaning arises through communication” (ibid., p. 79). Mead claims that an object needs no longer be approached and defined, as it was in classic or metaphysical philosophy, when its nature or its essence was “found out.” These quotation marks indicate that we are unable, according to Mead, to find out a nature or an essence of a given object. For Mead, they do not exist in the sense of an eternally prescribed corpus of features of a given object (or a state of affairs). As a result, we cannot identify and describe the meaning of an object in the sense of penetrating it and describing it as it “really” is. Contrary to this, Mead views an object as a set of reactions evoked in agents who approach the object in a given way or, as Meads puts it, “a set of organized sets of responses” (ibid., p. 71). Namely, the meaning of a given object (due partially to its predispositions, possibilities, and potentiality) arouses in different organisms (those that happen to bump against it and react to its presence) different types of responses according to the character of the object. This set of stimuli and reactions between object and organism (or organisms) defines what the object “really” is. The object can hardly receive any meaning if it prompts different, divergent, and incoherent reactions. When the given object (or a state of things) evokes attitudes that cannot be seen as unified, or grouped together at some point, then misunderstandings appear unavoidably regarding the proper meaning of the object. On the other hand, sometimes organisms understand objects more or less unanimously, and have more or less similar responses to it. In these cases, organisms have defined an object sufficiently to be identified as this, and not another object. The meaning of an object, known to the organisms, demonstrates why we can say that reacting organisms create the meaning of an object. More generally, Mead (and Dewey) contributes hugely to contemporary philosophy by showing us that the meaning of a given object is more than just a question of the intellectual approach toward it. Instead, the meaning of a given object is a question of the practical, existential, active, social, and consequential approach toward the object (cf., BuczyĔska-Garewicz, 1975, pp. 55-56). Let us consider another of Mead’s examples. If organisms (cows) believe that a given object (grass) is edible, then the meaning of this object makes it possible for them (cows) to assume a relation to it (grass) whereby they eat it with such nutritious effects. In this case, eating grass is the main reaction of the organisms (cows) towards the object (grass). The same object, grass in this

144

VALUES AND POWERS

case, has a completely different meaning and character for: a gardener, for whom it is part of a garden; a botanist, for whom it is a collection of botanical species; a child playing ball, for whom it is a good or appropriate place to have fun; a consumer, for whom grass is a lawn to be used for recreational purposes; and many others. In each case, the same object (grass) has a different meaning that produces different approaches towards the object. We cannot say, though, that the variety of interpretations, understandings, and approaches to the object obscures its meaning. This does not imply that the meaning of an object changes radically all of the time depending upon an organism’s individual waywardness or subjective reactions. For example, grass has more or less the same meaning, according to their understanding of grass, for: all gardeners; all botanists; all children playing ball; etc. When taken collectively, there exists a more general and comprehensive meaning of the word, when viewed in its entirety and in all possible contexts. This does not lead to anarchy in the cognition of objects, and Mead’s idea of perspectives helps to explain this. According to this idea, different agents and groups (or groups of agents) view a given object from different perspectives. Yet, the divergences of views are not complete, and places exist where they unite and places exist where they are different. For example, residents of a city see grass as recreational, instead of nutritious, and cows “see” it as nutritious, instead of recreational. The differences in understanding a given object, although not mutually exclusive as we can read in “The Objective Reality of Perspectives” (Mead, 1926, pp. 75-85), correspond both to an objective state of affairs and to the real (not artificial or superficial) views of different organisms. Properties exist in objects that make given groups of organisms react to them in a similar way and these properties, along with their meaning, cannot be ignored or annihilated by other organisms. As a result, we can call them (I mean, the properties) “objective;” at the same time, they assume worth when they serve organisms, and without this service they would be useless. It is plausible, in my re-reading of Mead’s work, to take his idea of “meaning” as having a constitutive reference to values and powers. Its relation to values lies in its evaluative, not exclusively descriptive, character, and in its responsive character as regards different stimuli and the power of reactions to them. The term “meaning” and the term “evaluation” are not the same. Yet, the term “evaluation” is at the bottom of what we understand by “meaning,” and they are linked necessarily. A process of evaluation causes an organism to physically approach any object, or describe it in a code or language proper to this organism, and then give it some meaning. Namely, an organism or group of organisms elevates a given object to a level of significance. In this elevation, the organism has not ignored the object or left it aside in the realm of obscurity. Instead, the organism paid some attention to the object and ascribed to it some worth. If the meaning of an object depends upon an organism’s attitude to the object, then we can claim that a relation of values and a relation of powers

Mead and Social Interaction

145

between them have been set up. The organism (or, perhaps, it would be better to use the term: agents, as we are discussing social communication, not private or individual labeling of different objects) imposes this or that meaning upon an object according to the internal constitution of the object and its potentiality. The internal constitution of an object receives its character from agents, according to a natural predisposition of the object that organisms experiment upon and test. The approach of an organism to an object is part of the relation between the object and the organisms. On the other hand, the social context enables organisms to ascribe to the object this particular meaning, instead of that particular meaning. If we continue the previous example, grass can become a lawn in social contexts where residents cultivate a grassy area and use it for an appropriate aim. Grass will never become lawn in social contexts where residents are only able to recognize a piece of grassy land as a place for cultivating plants and growing crops. Social powers and individual energies create and maintain the meaning of a given object by paying attention to it, evaluating it, and describing it with language. Also, the meaning of an object is constituted by a “mutual adjustment to one another of the responses or actions of the various individual organisms involved in that process” (Mead, 1934, p. 77), which implies a collective effort by the members of the group. 3. Conflict and Influence in the Context of Social Progress Like other American pragmatists, G. H. Mead carefully considered the idea of progress and development. Even more than other American pragmatists, he paid special attention to the communal aspect of this progress. Mead stressed the role of the social aspect, instead of the individual, in the development of men. In this way, he elevated the role of the transformation of society in regard to individual and community improvement (cf., Aboulafia, 2004, p. 174). All of his professional life was saturated with the idea of “the betterment of mankind” (ibid.). I attempt to claim that his philosophy deeply addresses this issue when he discusses the relations among organisms within society, and I refer especially to conflict and influence. Social conflict is a permanent state, being an integral part of social life in general, because all organisms have needs and interests. These needs and interests demand realization among a multitude of objects and situations, which are more or less resistant to their realization. However, conflict and influence can have a progressive character by facilitating the creation and introduction of novelty into social life. Deprived of a progressive character, conflicts would not help social life develop. Instead, without a progressive character, conflicts would make society a static organism full of internally dynamic conflicts, without any chance of evolving into a better condition. Mead does not express this explicitly, yet, we can see that values and powers permeate his argumentative efforts: when he writes about conflicting approaches of organisms or individuals toward objects, states of things, and/or

146

VALUES AND POWERS

other organisms; and when he argues about influence and control over the responses and reactions to the stimuli. In my view, values and powers are the constitutive factors in these approaches, influences, and conflicts. For example, when describing the control that an organism exercises at the micro level of social life over some “element” that happens to be around, Mead claims that “we can give our attention to a particular element in the field and by giving such attention and so holding on to the stimulus we can get control of the response. That is the way we get control of our action” (Mead, 1934, p. 94). Let us re-read this fragment, in the light of his other texts, as an articulation of the role of powers during the execution of the organism’s actions. In this sense, part of the relation between the organism and the external world, in which the organism acts and reacts, is the organism’s control over parts of this world. In this way, the relation between the organism and the external world is, to high degree, regulated by the controlling powers of the organism. On the other hand, the relation is regulated by the controlling powers of the environment, of which the organism is a living and acting part. Simultaneously, as we know from Mead’s social thought, the organism exercises control (or tries to exercise control) over other organisms. These organisms, necessarily, constitute a community or a social group that makes possible the existence of a particular organism. Also, the above quoted fragment articulates the role of values since the organism’s attention and reactions to the stimuli are, necessarily, directed towards some (instead of all) stimuli, which the organism acts upon or reacts to. The selection has an axiological character, because the organism’s vital interests (its growth and its profits) regulate the selection. For example, organisms ignore or give slight attention to stimuli that are neutral for the organism, or too week to evoke any reaction. As a result, the organism gives little worth to these stimuli. If we broaden this into the relationship between different groups of organisms we will see that, in conflicts amongst organisms and groups of organisms (for example, cultural and moral conflicts), or in the influence of one organism or a group of organisms upon another (for example, cultural and moral influences), Mead presents a strong connotation of values and powers. I have no intention of investigating the sociological aspects of conflicts, although Mead interestingly puts forward new proposals and vistas. For example, Mead contributes to something that we can call “universal ethics,” which includes the interests and moral vistas of possibly many individuals and groups of individuals. Instead, I propose an axiological reflection that corresponds to some of Mead’s ideas regarding the conflict of values between different centers of powers. I understand “center of power” as any entity (such as an organism, organisms, or a group of organisms) that can influence, dominate, restrict, control, and pressure another entity. I understand “conflict of values” as the imposition of a novel system of values and/or some elements, and the creation of a novel hierarchy of values or a re-modeling of the present hierarchy of values. Thus, we can claim that values, or the realization of values, must be

Mead and Social Interaction

147

connected with the activities of organisms. More precisely, values must be involved in the process of realizing the valuable aim, so that the motivation of the organism or individual launching the action links or connects with the valuable result of this action (cf., Koczanowicz, 1992, p. 46). According to my understanding of values, proposed in the Introduction and throughout the book, any individual and any group has a more or less definite sense of values, and has a more or less definite sense of its power. As a result, different relations of power will unavoidably exist between and among individuals (or groups of individuals) and organisms (or groups of organisms). I believe that this understanding does not contradict Mead’s understanding. Social life is full of the conflicts of values and attempts to influence a given way of understanding values. As a result, organisms or groups of organisms, by perpetually developing their lives and the social lives of their groups, get into conflicts with other organisms and other groups of organisms. From the point of view of cultural influences, we can claim that (even in small details during occasional meetings) the process of intercommunication dooms people’s loyalties to some systems of values and radiates them onto others. In this respect, a powerful individual tries to promote all or part of his or her system of value(s) (one or more than one system to which s/he refers to) onto others. We can say that an individual (and a group too) is a more or less powerful messenger, advocate, and missionary of values. The individual only rarely realizes that these values are not really or completely his or her own, because they had long before been imposed upon him or her by the other members of his or her social group. I do not wish, by claiming that Mead’s main concern is the constant conflicts of organisms and individuals against one another, to distort his social philosophy and obscure, as Jürgen Habermas once put it, the revolutionary power of some of the categories of his theory of action (cf., Habermas, 1981/2002, p. 7). Instead, I argue that in Mead’s view, conflicts and influences take place both at micro and macro levels, although different types of conflicts and influences exist and it would be improper to reduce them to the position of having only one character. Yet, one type of strife has an axiological character in two dimensions: namely, the axiological conflict with each and every other individual and other group; and the target towards which the conflicting parties aim (“betterment” or “progress” or “development”). The fight for “axiological” influence, or for domination (and for not being dominated), cannot be undertaken without effectively using some tools to implement a scheme or set of values, such as: physical strength; vital energy effectively spent; or the level of intelligence used in the operation. These factors make one party stronger or dominant over another. We can assume from the above, that individuals depend upon the external conditions of their society or societies, and have to copy standards, habits, and forms of communication. In such a case, it would be nearly impossible for a member of society to criticize the habits of his or her society, due to a lack of

148

VALUES AND POWERS

other external standards, values, and/or modes of behavior. If true, then Mead’s idea of man would not be rationalistic, because the scale of man’s dependence upon external factors would make him or her unable to decide upon his or her lot. Man, along with his or her decisions, reactions, and needs would be hardly anything more than a copy or a product of his or her environmental circumstances. In this case, reason would not be the ultimate source of recognition for what is good or bad, true or false, and beautiful or ugly. The role of context (whether biological, social, communal, historical, economical, cultural, and/or political) and contextualization, in human judgments and estimations, would overwhelm man’s independence and self-control. In such a situation, we would see, in Mead’s pragmatism, a dissonance in his emphasis on the meaning of the social and cultural contexts and, on the other hand, his firm adherence to rationalistic anthropology or a rationalistic model of man. Mead realized this problem and provided an explanation, which, in my opinion, prevents such an accusation of determinism in his thought. In The Philosophy of the Present he writes: Since society has endowed us with self-consciousness, we can enter personally into the largest undertakings which the intercourse of rational selves extends before us. And because we can live with ourselves as well as with others, we can criticize ourselves, and make our own the values in which we are involved through those undertakings in which the community of all rational beings is engaged (Mead, 1932, p. 90). There exist, in my view, further axiological consequences of such a position. Individual autonomy is necessary to launch a relation with objects and states of affairs, and this relation helps them become valuable. Any separate or isolated object or state of affairs is valuable, as if in potentia, and becomes valuable when an organism or individual wants, desires, likes, and/or needs it. This relation itself may have an objective character (independent of any subjective decisions): by naturally determined physical constitutions; by biologically and genetically imposed inclinations; and by socially activated (or deactivated) predispositions. For example, no living organism, unless unhealthy, can freely choose: what is for him or her a food or a poison; what to breathe with; whether to prefer hatred instead of love; and whether to be satisfied with self-destruction instead of self-development. In this objective relation, between particular individuals and objects, there exists some space for individuals to make the relation more unique, more special, and more inventive. Individuals can realize their freedoms and contribute to the development of their social group, for example, by introducing novel events and better solutions to what currently exists in different areas of both individual and social life, such as self-governance and self-determination. Also, Mead’s emphasis upon the significance of problem solving behavior and science (including experimental science) made him a strong advocate of individual innovation, always within

Mead and Social Interaction

149

the context of social life. For example, when a given group wants to impose a new type of technology as a more effective way of solving technical problems, this effectiveness will make the group technologically stronger, which might translate into an advantage over another group or groups. On a more general plane, within human societies, all those factors that constitute a moral life (in order to work effectively), must take place in favorable social and political conditions. In these conditions, moral aims or attempts to achieve moral aims are realized freely and spontaneously, according to the basic interests, needs, and states of consciousness of agents involved in the process of improving a given society. In Mead, the democratic system best provides these conditions, because it has the tools for absorbing changes and rearrangements. The centers of power, which are free and many in this system, can ease social tensions, conflicts, and influences. Mead joins all other representatives of the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism in the philosophical vindication of democracy. For them, democracy is the system that best provides space for the freedom of individuals, liberty for the operation of social institutions, and openness to achieve a higher stage in moral development.

Eight RICHARD RORTY’S LIBERAL DEMOCRACY AND THE LIMITS OF CULTURAL IMPERIALISM The philosophical output of Richard Rorty, labeled as a neopragmatist, along with Hilary Putnam, Willard Van Orman Quine, and Richard Shusterman, appears quite firmly rooted in the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism as regards the role of powers in vindicating values and the role of values in vindicating powers. Most conspicuously, he examines the relation of values and powers by closely linking ethics with politics in his hallmark idea of liberal democracy, along with the enormously significant role of this idea in social life. My re-reading of Rorty argues that what he understands as “liberal” refers to values. He makes this reference by importing the main sense of the term “liberal” from the cultural and philosophical heritage of the West, especially from the Enlightenment and from his pragmatic predecessors. In this heritage, secularity, tolerance, freedom, liberty, and solidarity constitute the bases of morality and the axiological framework of moral values. At the same time, his understanding of “democracy” refers to powers, because he sees democracy as the basis of political, social, and ethical life. Rorty believes that the practical, instead of the theoretical and speculative, actions of members of a given community should develop this basis, since democracy should have priority in their private convictions on life and destiny. I have deep sympathy with Rorty’s ideas of liberal democracy, ethnocentrism, and solidarity. Nevertheless, and this is the second part of my argument, I believe that a portion of his thought can be seen as a sort of “cultural imperialism.” I understand the representatives of different philosophies, cultures, ways of thinking, and institutions when they claim that their philosophies, their cultures, their ways of thinking, their traditions, and their institutions along with their structures are not (and cannot be) liberal, democratic, tolerant, pluralistic, and open. Theoretically speaking, these philosophies, cultures, ways of thinking, and institutions are not (and cannot be) democratic and tolerant, because they are built, to some degree: upon a sense of separation from neighboring traditions; upon isolation from external standards; upon a negation of foreign influences; and/or upon a search for unique ways of self-identification. For instance, vigilant preservation of pristine hierarchical social systems gives some of their representatives a sense of social activity, and constitutes a major source of cultural identity. I conclude my argument by claiming that Rorty cannot be accused of cultural imperialism when he refers to solidarity with others, regarding the

152

VALUES AND POWERS

satisfaction of the basic human needs and interests of others, and his attempt to diminish their hardships and sufferings. For example, Rorty accomplishes this by promoting the idea that the intelligentsia should not search for truth, but instead should articulate ways of mutual solidarity. I also interpret his sensitivity in widening the range of the terms “we” and “us” as non-imperialistic. Rorty treats all men seriously, regardless of whether he is less serious about the cognitive convictions of the men whom he treats seriously. He further implores us to treat men seriously, too. 1. Liberal Values and Democratic Powers Rorty’s philosophy is anti-representational, anti-essentialist, and anti-metaphysical in axiology and ethics (as elsewhere). Yet this does not preclude it from being deeply engaged in deliberations on values and valuations. Rorty refers to values and valuations quite frequently in his texts, especially in “Solidarity or Objectivity” and “Science and Solidarity,” in Objectivism, Relativism, and Truth. However, the reference is not always explicit or direct. For example, the reference often appears when he writes about the betterment of the human condition, and about the arrangement of social life in the most just way possible. On the one hand, he claims in some places that we cannot discuss: the “nature” of valuations; the “fixed essence” of objects to be named as valuable; the “internal structure” of values; and the “eternal meaning” of the good and the beautiful. Yet, on the other hand, he simultaneously addresses issues that deal with: the criteria of valuation; the groundwork of values; the conditions for comparing different hierarchies of values; and what is potentially good, whether better solutions, better positions, or better understandings. Like other pragmatists, Rorty does not follow the axiology of Platonism, and he expends a great deal of intellectual effort explaining the error of Plato and his followers regarding values. Instead, Rorty looks to the heritage of lay Western thought in general, and the Age of Reason along with his pragmatic masters in particular. For Rorty, this heritage reveals freedom, tolerance, liberty, openness, and pluralism as values that would most peacefully unite all peoples morally, and make it possible for them to improve communal life. In this, Rorty follows William James’ way of thinking, with his idea of religious pluralism, expressed most notably in The Varieties of Religious Experience, and John Dewey’s idea of the priority of democracy in public life. Rorty’s “The Priority of Democracy to Philosophy” demonstrates such a strong adherence to pragmatism that we can follow those who claim that he is “the latest thinker in this American tradition” (Kuklick, 2001, p. 279). A community or an ethnic group should be, according to Rorty, the ultimate point of reference and final resort for the justification of claims about values and valuations. The communal dimension of axiological problematics becomes even more obvious when we realize that, as Rorty puts it, an “account of the value of cooperative human enquiry has only an ethical base, not an epistemo-

Rorty, Democracy and Culture

153

logical or metaphysical one” (Rorty, 1991, p. 24). Accordingly, it is impossible and unnecessary to transcend our cultural prejudices, ethnocentric customs, and communal habits. We cannot go beyond our interpretations and prejudices in search for an axiologically neutral standpoint to view true values, objective worth, and unbiased valuations. Instead, the best that we can do is to take all cultures, despite their infinite variety, into consideration during conversations about what can and should be done to make life better for all. In Rorty’s view, liberal democracy provides the most helpful tool to accomplish this aim. Liberal democracy, as a moral and philosophical position characterized by tolerance and pluralism, offers the best and most effective constituents for any moral and philosophical position to be applicable in the texture of social life. This does not mean that a system that includes such constituents could be successfully introduced and developed in a given community or society without using a variety of pressures, forces, and powers. Rorty realized the necessity of different types of powers to make the introduction of liberal democracy as successful as possible. Although, I am unsure if he admits this openly in his writings, or if he would agree to label them as “powers.” Yet, democracy, as a social system and a way of living, requires different methods of persuasion. It entails the implementation of practical solutions, protection, propaganda, and large-scale intervention of force into public life. Many institutions, protected by the effective execution of law and secured by the police, serve these aims, such as: schools, universities, law, and the free market. All these institutions, when efficient, possess effective tools that we can interpret according to the categories of force, pressure, and influence. For example, a close connection exists between the economic, military, and technological strength of a given political body (such as a state), and the power of its ideology in the education system. As we have seen, education systems have the ability to impose upon students a more or less definite vision of what is good and what is bad. Again, I do not wish to diminish the radical and essential difference between the exercise of powers in democratic and totalitarian systems. Unlike totalitarian systems, democratic systems, both the pragmatic (Deweyan) and neopragmatic (Rortian) versions, do not justify any use of power against the basic interests of the people. Instead, democratic systems justify the use of different forms of powers in the sense of favoring, supporting, and enhancing latent human energies in the realization of valuable or democratic social aims. Liberal democracies presuppose the basic interest of all men, and vindicate the application of some forms of force in the name of these basic interests and on behalf of basic values. Yet, from the point of view of (democratic) values, a problem arises when we want to define more precisely, or draw a more exact borderline around acceptable and unacceptable areas where powers should or should not be applied. We, as representatives of the West and sympathizers of liberal democracy, should take a closer look at this issue if we want to be more sensitive to the

154

VALUES AND POWERS

views of representatives of other philosophies, cultures, and traditions on this issue. We might wish to claim, at some point, that liberal democracy can be seen as imperialistic in cases where its representatives justify the use of force not in the name of basic interests, but, instead, in the name of: the propagation of their culture, at the cost of other cultures; the promotion of their view on God and destiny, at the cost of other religions; and the propagation of their social systems, at the cost of other systems. Cultural imperialism can hardly take place, in my view, when force is applied against obstacles, injustice, and a lack of opportunity that makes it impossible for some men to grow freely and develop. Yet, different people perceive the obstacles that block free human development in different ways. For example, for a liberal democrat, religious fundamentalism or absolute and undisputable claims on morality and destiny (where a given religion is right and believers in this religion and, perhaps, all others are morally obliged, under some kind of earthly and heavenly punishment to observe its rules) present such an obstacle. A liberal democrat can assume and promote one idea of success, one model of growth, one understanding of progress, and one type of development (which I proposed, in the Introduction, as the accumulation of values). Yet, as we have seen throughout this book, there exist many incompatible ways of accumulating values, including some that see human development in the renunciation of change. These traditions wish to keep things, customs, and faiths as they have been for ages. A Western liberal democrat (having already participated in a culture whose distinctive features are, amongst other things, free mass media, a free transfer of information, and a free education) may do something that his or her adversary, if faithful to his or her tradition, would not do by any means. Namely, a liberal democrat freely assumes a stance that makes it possible for him or her to choose a religion, a tradition, and/or a lifestyle. He or she makes these choices in the name of democratic values and on behalf of a democratic culture that treats the role of personal choice as obvious, natural, moral, and civilized. However, opponents of liberal democracy could claim that the ideals of individual choice in such areas as tradition, social habits, patriotism, religion, and morality are Western, capitalistic, and/or American ways of viewing social reality. In traditional cultures, beliefs, customs, and norms (and the discourses or ways of speaking about them) are fixed and they are not subject to change. As a result, choices of loyalty are limited and directed to the cultivation of the current traditions and current ways of speaking about them. Should we, the people of the West, respect these traditions and discourses, in which the members of these cultures have no choice regarding their individual freedoms? Is Rorty’s “discourse relativism” (Cahoone, 1991, p. 239) a form of cultural imperialism? Rorty would agree that the economic, military, technological, and (generally speaking) civilizational advantages of a given culture allow it to effectively propagate and promote ideas in the world. A given culture radiates its system of values and imposes upon others its standards, norms, and values due to the use

Rorty, Democracy and Culture

155

of “civilizational” powers, such as: different forms of economic pressure; cultural influence; political domination; technological advantage; and administrative sophistication. As a result, a given culture is able to conquer other cultures peacefully (by, for example, economic dominance) or militarily (by, for example, an intervention in the name of humanitarian reasons). I suppose that it would be compatible with Rorty’s idea of ethnocentrism to comment upon the incomparable strength of some ideas of the West (such as the idea of solidarity, if we agree that solidarity is a Western idea). These ideas triumph over the world, not just because they are better and more moral, but also because the civilizational (economic, technological, military, and linguistic) might of the West is overwhelmingly greater than other cultures. As a result of this advantage, we, the people living in the West, can (try to) make our ideas universal. In the contemporary world, cultural influence, economic domination, and trans-cultural transplantation of ideas only flow from Western cultures into non-Western cultures, not vice versa. We rarely witness a two-way exchange of ideas and values. The West imports comparatively few ideas and values from other cultures: Chinese cuisine, which by the way is predominantly prepared by Chinese immigrants to the United States; Hindu yoga, which by the way is reduced in the West to gymnastics; and Japanese martial arts, which by the way were completely remodeled after World War II, from their original Okinawa form, and accommodated to the needs of the American and Western markets. Compared to these cultural imports or influences, the West exports or imposes democracy, technology, and economic rules that are far more instrumental and far more significant for the texture of social life, for the shape of the political system, and for the character of cultural life. This one-way traffic, or transplantation of ideas and exchange of cultures, cannot and will not be changed unless a dramatic rearrangement of global powers takes place. We, the people living in Western democracies, are unable and unwilling to absorb aspects of other cultures, for instance, a tribal system of society and/or a theocratic system of political life. These ideas appear alien to us, but for decades non-Western cultures have faced the factual implementation of Western democracy and other political and social projects, no less alien to them, into their cultural traditions, into their social orders, and into their political systems. The implementation of Western ideas has resulted, in many cases, in the factual demolition of their traditional systems of values and their moral customs. I admit that a liberal democrat living in the West is free to say that democracy is better or more efficient in facilitating social progress than other systems that operate in other parts of the world. Yet, I cannot understand how a liberal democrat, like Rorty, can be sincerely democratic and openly pluralistic in discussing the democracy and pluralism of social institutions in a multicultural context. I also cannot believe that a liberal democrat can still be liberal and democratic in the face of a religious fundamentalist or, even, in the face of a

156

VALUES AND POWERS

religious person who consequently adheres to moral messages in the texts of his or her religion. A liberal democrat may describe such a person as one who treats his or her religion (and the philosophical justification of his or her religious claims) as exclusively right. Such a fundamentalist, or religious consequentialist, would likely claim that many forms or elements of Western lifestyle (for example, promiscuity, divorce, etc.) deserve immediate punishment, and that the punishment should be executed according to what has been written down in the holy scriptures (for example, by stoning). The liberal democrat’s insistence that a conversation with a fundamentalist should continue, or that some procedures of the conversation should be maintained, does not suit the fundamentalist’s claims that the liberal democrat must not be able to decide: firstly, whether to continue conversations on such serious issues or not; secondly, whether languages and categories are appropriate to the conversation since everything is explained by sages and priests who know better; and thirdly, whether punishment should be imminent or not, or more “humanitarian” (according to Western standards) or not. I suppose that a liberal democrat could only reply by stating that the fundamentalist is wrong, and that democratic institutions (assuming that the discussion takes place in a Western country), such as the police and the courts, would make it impossible for the fundamentalist to realize his or her intentions to revise the social status quo in the name of sacred texts believed to be the proper basis for legislature. I can imagine that a liberal democrat might add that the fundamentalist incorrectly claims that sages and priests are privileged to decide on the shape and conditions of the discussion, which would make the whole conversation quite futile and the starting point impossible for both parties. Also, it is difficult to imagine how Rorty could start a fruitful conversation with a nationalist, for whom the heritage of his nation (along with its traditions, religion, and social habits) constitutes his or/her main sense of belonging, and for whom distinctions from other nations provide the deepest and/or ultimate source of his or her self-identity. Accordingly, for a nationalist, solidarity with other cultures or countries sounds odd and suspicious. The liberal democrat, on the other hand, thinks of transcending national, religious, and cultural borders in the name of universal progress, solidarity, and making life better for all. In my view, the liberal democrat could not say anything constructive in a discussion with a (consequent) nationalist, who perceived the superiority of his or her nation’s traditions, customs, and philosophy or philosophies as something to promote elsewhere. Here, a free choice of ideas and beliefs means that all those who claim that their ideologies, religions, and moralities are exclusively right are (in the eyes of the liberal democrat) wrong. An adversary of liberal democracy can joke that only liberal democrats can rightly set standards of what is good and what is bad. The liberal democrat believes that we have a free choice regarding moral stance, national adherence, and religious

Rorty, Democracy and Culture

157

loyalty, regardless of the traditions of cultures that view free choice in morals, religion, and philosophy as sheer perversion. 2. Can Liberal Democracy Become Cultural Imperialism? The term “cultural imperialism,” in reference to Richard Rorty, has been used on different occasions (cf., Taylor, 1991, p. 32; Putnam, 2001, p. 41). I refer to these occasions only indirectly, because I am mostly interested in whether liberal democracy, philosophically and famously vindicated by Rorty, can be correctly described as “cultural imperialism” in an axiological context. Or, to be more precise, does “cultural imperialism” accurately describe situations where representatives of some cultures, sometimes hundreds of years old, have a sense of inferiority or depreciation in face of the claims of liberal democracy? I understand “cultural imperialism” as a peaceful imposition of selected parts of a dominating culture upon another or others, which leads to a reorientation amongst the dominated culture of ideas as to what is good, better, beautiful, successful, and important. Amongst different forms or aspects of this imposition, we can see the dominating culture making other cultures absorb their standards, values, hierarchies of values, norms, and categories. Philosophy may have little to do with direct conquest, but it indirectly participates by vindicating the freshly imposed hierarchy of values and the justice of the imposition upon another culture. This type of vindication is necessary everywhere. Every social and political system (whether theocratic, lay, democratic, aristocratic, or totalitarian) requires justification in categories of good and bad, or of progress and hope. Philosophers must vindicate why some parts of a system (such as tolerance), are better than others (such as intolerance), or vice versa. The role of philosophy, or philosophical argumentation within theology or religion, is to articulate such issues. Philosophy justifies every influence (whether democratization, Americanization, and/or Westernization) in different ways, and this justification constitutes a significant part of the whole process whereby one culture influences another. Here, I am the most interested in the philosophical vindication of democratization, since it includes an axiological component that more or less openly states the superiority of democratic societies over non-democratic societies. From this point of view, we can talk about “cultural imperialism” or, perhaps, “axiological imperialism” whenever an evaluation (and/or a philosophical justification of such an evaluation) is articulated, propagated, and promoted. On the one hand, from the point of view of the influencing or dominating culture, we can discuss a mood of superiority and a sense of the need to introduce such and such a part of a system or culture into an alien, non-democratic, culture. On the other hand, from the point of view of the influenced or dominated culture, we can perceive a predominant mood of inferiority and a sense of being dominated by an alien and external power.

158

VALUES AND POWERS

This does not necessarily mean that economically and technologically “weaker” cultures, those unable to influence other cultures, do not possess elaborate philosophies or stimulating systems of thought. It does mean that, without powerful support and assistance from other sources (such as, a legal system, public opinion, the social order, a political system, the level of publicity of the mass media, the freedom of the mass media, the flexibility of religion, and/or wealthy universities), effective propagation and promotion of such ideas and worldviews would not be possible. From the other side of the issue, the propagation and promotion of non-Western values and non-Western visions of justice cannot be successfully implemented in the West, not because they are wrong (in the eyes of some of the representatives of non-Western cultures), but due to the weakness and the locality of those cultures and those civilizations. The social and political power of installing a democracy in a nondemocratic country, as has recently taken place in Iraq and in many places before, is incommensurably greater than the power required to import or absorb a tiny part of culture. It is unthinkable that any Western country would accept, say, an Iraqi or Kurdish model of political life, in whatever form, although the Iraqis and Kurds have to absorb Western models of political life. As regards Rorty, it is difficult to judge unambiguously and undisputedly whether we can find philosophical aspects of cultural imperialism in his writings. On the one hand, he is conscious of the strength of Western culture in relation to other, less expansive and less dynamic, cultures that constantly accommodate different factors imposed upon them from the outside. On the other hand, he tries to elevate some categories (such as, solidarity, tolerance, democracy, pluralism, and others) to the level of trans-cultural or over-cultural criteria. This elevation would make it possible for members of many cultures to develop a “moral and universal community,” despite the inclusion of cultures that may perceive such a universal community as alien and unnecessary. Rorty elevates these categories, in his deepest conviction about the global significance of their social advantage and moral preeminence (in the present state of our moral consciousness) in applying moral aims into social life. In Rorty’s view, these categories supercede all others in the melioration of the social world and solve or they help to solve social problems, especially the reduction of suffering and the application of justice. At this point, we can take a closer look at the controversy regarding the imposition of such categories or ways of thinking upon cultures, traditions, institutions, and systems that view these categories or ways of thinking as alien. Are these impositions democratic? Can these dominated cultures, traditions, and institutions freely receive these influences? Some representatives of other cultures (traditions, institutions, etc.) can claim that a demand to introduce liberal democracy into their cultures, or to make members of these cultures accommodate to liberal democracy, is like asking the Catholic Church (originally and constitutively non-democratic, non-liberal, and non-egalitarian) to introduce popular elections for the Pope and bishops, equal rights for

Rorty, Democracy and Culture

159

women, tolerance in sexual ethics, and voting in the case of controversies over dogmas. Some people do claim that the Church should change in these ways, but this could only be achieved (whether we want it or not) at the cost of the practical destruction of the Catholic Church’s identity as it has been for centuries. The changes would maim the Church’s sense of its mission, and preserve hardly anything more than the ecclesiastical symbols, rituals, and rhetoric. Likewise, an opponent of liberal democracy can accuse liberal democrats of denying privileged standpoints in religion, except for the (liberal democratic) standpoint that states that no privileged positions exist. Or, opponents can accuse liberal democrats of being wrong in the same way that liberal democrats accuse other philosophies and ethics for wrongly denouncing liberal democracy. Namely, it can be clamed, if a liberal democrat demands that religious life be a private instead of public matter, then he or she inevitably wants to marginalize religious life and weaken its impact upon public affairs. This may mean, in the eyes of the adversaries of a liberal democrat, that he or she is not as liberal, not as democratic, and not as pluralistic as he or she claims to be. By the way, limiting private views to the private domain, instead of going out into the public, is risky and unnecessary if we want to encourage citizens to actively participate in social life (cf., Szahaj, 2002, p. 104). Additionally, demands for democracy, instead of theocracy, cannot be made in the name of a neutral worldview, since (as Rorty would have admitted) neutral viewpoints do not exist. Liberal democrats (or any other representative of a similar philosophical position) often claim that a given philosophical, religious, or moral position cannot be elevated to a privileged position (which would provide a better, more just, or a more moral perspective on social issues). In my opinion, he or she makes this proclamation in the name of a philosophical, secular, and moral position (liberal democracy) that, in his or her view, provides the best regulation of social and cultural controversies. This completes a vicious circle. According to this philosophical, secular, and moral position, a representative of a religion who says that he or she is exclusively right in its claims on morality and other problems, is wrong. The same can refer to the main method of solving problems. A liberal democrat could say, I suppose: let us discuss social issues, but under the condition that we will use discussion as a tool in resolving the controversies, since recent history has proven many times that it is the best method of communication. Let us discuss, without making any preliminary assumptions (like barbarian tribes make) that, for example, there exists a select group of people (for example, sages) who should be unquestionably listened to, without answering such questions as: who gave them (the sages or the priests) the right to occupy an elevated position in society? Let us debate, but the final decision about right and wrong will be decided by a democratic vote, as it takes place successfully in Western parliamentary systems. Let us discuss, but under the condition that no one has a right to impose his or her views upon others.

160

VALUES AND POWERS

Simultaneously, you should accept this condition willingly, and without any complaints about restrictions that you do not like. Let us cooperate this way, and we will be as successful and efficient as Western civilization in producing unquestionable goods as legal systems, technology, and medicine. I can easily understand a liberal democrat assuming and saying these things. I can also understand that the words in this conversation are used exclusively in a liberal democratic sense, which makes the discussion futile from the start. What I cannot understand is how he or she can seriously and profoundly characterize his or her position as liberal, democratic, pluralistic, and tolerant. An opponent of liberal democracy can state that the liberal democrat uses a privileged philosophical tradition as the point of reference in attempting to shape the just arrangement of social life. This tradition, generally speaking, has its roots in the ideas of the Enlightenment and the ideas proposed by the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. As a consequence of this privileged stance, all of the different positions, options, and beliefs incompatible with this position (and with the democratic arrangement of things in democracy) lose their importance when, for example, a liberal democrat calls for tolerance. Namely, when a liberal democrat rejects the idea of objectivity, clashing unavoidably with all those who make sense of cultural life with reference to objectivity, he or she puts forward the idea of tolerance or freedom for the individual to choose his or her philosophy, religion, and lifestyle. At the same time, however, he or she ignores, willy-nilly, traditions that view tolerance (in the meaning of the word used by a liberal democrat) as an anathema that equals immorality. I follow Leszek Kołakowski’s essay “Looking for the Barbarians: The Illusions of Cultural Universalism” (cf., Kołakowski, 1990, p. 14-31), in asking whether a liberal democrat, who assumes the stance of tolerance as regards different views, philosophies, and cultures can tolerate intolerant people, nonpluralistic philosophies, and non-democratic cultures. More generally, we can ask whether a democratic and tolerant society can tolerate societies, which, by tradition and customs, are intolerant in vital social questions, for example in respecting human rights in the Western meaning of this term? My answer, following Kołakowski, is that they cannot. We cannot cope with the divisions between cultures, in the understanding of vital social issues, unless you neutralize the most fundamental differences between them. This means that a liberal democrat must stop being tolerant in order to discuss acceptable lifestyles and the variety of goods to be freely chosen. You cannot have, as in the famous image of the popular 1970s disco band “The Village People,” a happy group of unique individuals (Native American, policeman, worker, etc.) coexisting together while maintaining their social roles and their unique traditions. Instead, the image can only express a melting pot, which deprives, say, the genuine life of a Native American of any meaning, unless symbolic and ornamental. This does not imply any kind of reservation about democratization or liberalism. Instead, I detect an internal contradiction

Rorty, Democracy and Culture

161

in claiming that we should support democratization and liberalization processes without destroying and annihilating the long lasting status quo in nondemocratic communities and cultures. These cultures cannot survive in the free and democratic world, even when they enjoy the acceptance of a majority of the members of these communities, since they give their fervent approval to customs practiced by elders, leaders, and members of these same communities. Let me explain, at the end of this part, why I discuss the problem of cultural imperialism here, instead of in earlier parts of the book devoted to Dewey. Firstly, I suspect that Dewey’s thought could also be accused by some representatives of other cultures of cultural imperialism, especially in those places where his philosophy assumes a holistic and radical character, and when it proposes a definite way to accumulate values. Yet, Dewey’s philosophy originated during an age when the problems of cultural relativism, globalization, and civilizational confrontations were less pronounced philosophically, as they were when Rorty wrote. Secondly, and more crucially, Dewey sought the strength of democracy in the internal power of man and in the internal power of the community. Rorty, in my view, refers to Western values of tolerance, openness, and pluralism, instead of focusing on the internal powers of man and particular communities, and as a result Rorty’s thought is more radical and more holistic than Dewey’s. 3. Solidarity of Who with Whom? Beyond Cultural Imperialism Firstly, we can ask, is the promotion of solidarity with all human beings a sort of cultural imperialism? Namely, is it not rooted in some part of the Western tradition, especially in Christianity, in Humanism, and in the Enlightenment? I do not want to claim that solidarity (along with tolerance, openness, and pluralism) is an exclusively Western value, since this is not true. Instead, I claim that the cultural domination of the West contributed to the force and efficiency of these values, which were introduced into the world and propagated by means of different institutions. The imposition of values upon other cultures has been so effective that the pristine traditions of many places have faded away. Secondly, is solidarity with all those who fight against pain, instead of solidarity with those who practice training in renunciation, just the imposition of one type of culture (“corporeal culture,” if such a term is justified) upon another? What about those traditions that view enduring pain as a moral challenge, for whom bearing suffering, instead of avoiding it, provided a better method of moral “education“? From this point of view we can ask, is avoiding suffering and humiliation better than enduring suffering and bearing humiliation? Is the answer regulated by a cultural prejudice? Thirdly, does Rorty say about solidarity with sages, priests, and mystics in different cultures? Or, instead, does he address his message to all those intellectuals (predominantly in the West and predominantly in America) who

162

VALUES AND POWERS

are ready to undermine the exclusive and elevated role of sages and priests in traditional societies, unless those sages and priests cooperate with Western institutions as regards, say, human rights and economic interests? His ideas of tolerance and solidarity, both having universal and global aspirations, are products of a given tradition, one stemming from the humanistic, democratic, and lay culture of the West. I do not believe that we can unhesitatingly and unreservedly accuse Rorty of cultural imperialism in treating seriously human life and its full development, regardless of what “full” may mean. According to my re-reading of Rorty, we can identify imperialism at the point where we can more or less precisely define “fuller,” instead of “narrower,” development. Namely, if you take care of each and every human being and his or her growth, along with his or her cultural “equipment,” then we can hardly suggest cultural imperialism. If we impose upon him or her the way that his or her growth should go, then we can start talking in terms of cultural imperialism. I agree with Rorty that the only way to communicate with the fundamentalist is to treat him or her seriously as a human being, despite a factual lack of communication with him or her on social issues. It is possible, in my opinion, to discuss universal values in Rorty’s thought, despite such statements. In this, I sympathize with him. The scope of the area of universal values, as I re-read Rorty acceptably, is quite small, and deals with saving life and protecting its development. He does not suggest what the development should look like. If solidarity with others appears in this way, then I would like to participate in this kind of solidarity, hoping that hardly any cultural imperialism could be found by such a position. Also this would deal with a wider spectrum of agents who justly deserve to be ascribed the right to the realization of such universal values. By this, I mean, welcoming into the community of those embracing solidarity all those beings who are able, because of the development of their nervous system, to suffer pain and feel joy. Rorty, faithful both to the main social concerns of the Enlightenment and to the main social concerns of the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism, saw solidarity as the best approach to the melioration of the world. He is not alone. Many have found hope in the idea of solidarity, instead of objectivity, found in Rorty’s famous texts “Solidarity or Objectivity” and “Science as Solidarity.” The idea reflects Rorty’s tendency to see things intersubjectively. In this way, Rorty presents the most objective ground possible for someone who does not believe in metaphysical justifications of moral obligations and duties towards other agents. Upon such non-metaphysical, yet ethical grounds, it is possible to achieve the most successful forms of interpersonal communication amongst individuals and the trans-cultural cooperation amongst cultures. Rorty does not want to give up the holistic idea of approaching all people in an effort to improve the morality of the world, without excluding any groups, except for criminals and terrorists. He also invites intellectuals and philosophers to participate in this project, although their primary role would not be scholarly devotion in pursuit of truth. Instead,

Rorty, Democracy and Culture

163

intellectuals and philosophers would seek solidarity with others, so as to make the scope of the terms “we” and “us” as broad as possible. As someone who sympathizes with Rorty’s attempts, I dare to claim that these precious attempts help to stimulate our discussion of axiological and cultural issues. In a contrary position to Rorty, though, I think that they can only be applied at a basic level of human existence (at a quite fundamental stratum of human life), and I propose discussing universal values and universal powers at the lowest level possible. In this way, it will apply universally while minimizing accusations of cultural imperialism by promoting Western ideas of how to make all people happier and how to make them better able to understand and accept each other. I assume that all humans (and all higher animals) prefer to be happy, instead of unhappy, to be successful, instead of unsuccessful, and to feel joy, instead of pain. As a result, their desire for the realization of the fundamental needs (water, food, shelter, and safety) belong to those needs that MUST be provided to everyone, and this obligation has a moral, normative, and axiological character. At this point, philosophical discussion is gratuitous. It is not crucial whether we call this axiological universalism, anthropological subjectivism, axiocentric pragmatism, or something else. If we want to extend our discussion to the ways in which happiness should be provided, or how much or to what degree a person should be free in rejecting his or her home tradition, then we should (in my view and, I hope, in Rorty’s), respect ethnic and cultural traditions with care and trust.

Part Three QUASI-PRAGMATIC APPROACH TO VALUES AND POWERS

Nine POWERS AND PERFECTIONS IN GEORGE SANTAYANA’S ABULENSEAN PRAGMATISM The term “abulensean,” in the Santayanian context, was introduced by a Spanish scholar, Pedro Garcia Martin, in his book El sustrato abulense de Jorge Santayana [The Avilian Background of George Santayana]. One of its main messages, as I understand it, is to detect and emphasize the huge role of the Mediterranean tradition, Catholic mood, and Castilian spirit in Santayana’s philosophy. An emphasis on these elements in Santayana, which some scholars discuss, reveals the incompleteness of existing interpretations that focus exclusively upon Santayana as an American philosopher, and upon his philosophy as it relates to American pragmatism. The term “abulensean” warns us that we should not forget the nonpragmatic and non-American parts of Santayana’s thought. Other commentators and readers can determine the size, constitution, and meaning of these “abulensean” parts. As far as I am concerned, I share Martin’s view on the constitutive role of non-pragmatic factors in Santayana’s thought. Therefore, when I propose to use the term “abulensean” to refer to Santayana’s version of pragmatism, I do so ironically and provocatively. I hope that if the pragmatists wish to view Santayana as their sympathizer or philosophical friend, then they will be warned of the specificity, otherness, and uniqueness of his thought within the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. Below, I show that if we use values and powers (in the previously defined meaning of these terms) as a litmus test to determine the similarity of a philosopher to the pragmatism of William James, John Dewey, and George Herbert Mead, then we will see that Santayana cannot be put side by side with them. If he links values and powers at all, it appears more in a stoical sense than in a pragmatic sense. As regards values, he adheres more to the old Greeks, with their ideas of perfectionism as regards powers, although he shares with pragmatism a naturalistic interpretation of powers. Yet, it is impossible to conciliate with pragmatism his ideas of detachment (in ethics), of essences (in ontology) and their powerlessness, of impotence of philosophy (epiphenomenalism) and his reservations about democracy. At the same time I admit (moving beyond the scope of the present text) that Santayana does belong to the tradition of American pragmatism as regards epistemology, especially his philosophy of knowledge (Skepticism and Animal Faith).

168

VALUES AND POWERS 1. Powers in Aiming at Perfection

Angus Kerr-Lawson, perhaps the most faithful follower of George Santayana’s philosophy, in a short paper entitled “An Abulensean Pragmatist?” referred to how much Santayana can be seen as pragmatist. In my view, we should join Kerr-Lawson in his reservations, expressed so tersely, about the inclusion of Santayana in the pragmatist fold: “I cannot think that Santayana lived in the house of pragmatism. Perhaps it was one of his early transient hotels” (KerrLawson, 1992, pp. 17-21). However, when Kerr-Lawson claims that “Santayana differs with the pragmatists on most important issues” (ibid., p. 17), he fails to include the problem of values as one of the “most important issues.” I intend to show how much, and at what points, he distances himself from pragmatism in this respect. Namely, Santayana’s approach towards values, especially his attitude towards the relation between values and powers, provides a good test for Santayana’s pragmatism. By understanding the pragmatists’ attitude towards values, we can judge whether Santayana shared their view on such crucial issues as what is good, what is beautiful, what is true, what is excellent for man, and/or what understanding of progress (or success) social institutions should promote. If he did not share with these views, and I believe he did not, then he can hardly be admitted into the pragmatist camp, unless we think of some other areas of philosophical interest. Let me repeat that the philosophy of knowledge would be the strongest, if not the only strong link between the American pragmatists and Santayana. To support the view that Santayana and the pragmatists have a common philosophy of values, we can begin with Santayana’s convincingly expressed definition of values, which sounds quite pragmatic: “[v]alue is something relative, a dignity which anything may acquire in view of the benefit or satisfaction, which it brings to some living being” (Santayana, 1957c, p. 221). On closer inspection, this statement (presented, by the way, in a book devoted to Platonism and the spiritual life, topics that do not sound pragmatic at all) is more complex and its pragmatism appears no stronger than, so criticized by Santayana: utilitarianism, instrumentalism, anthropocentrism, and anthropomorphism (all so conspicuously present in many texts written by American pragmatists). On the one hand, Santayana writes, as the pragmatists do, about the relative character of values, and about the benefit and satisfaction which agents can get from (having) a valuable object. Yet, on the other hand, he includes in this definition two things that appear quite non-pragmatic. The first is the dignity of values. Mentioning this term in the context of a definition of “value,” at once reminds us of the Stoical (and Immanuel Kant’s) division of values into those that are precious (or have some price or are equal to their usefulness), and those that have dignity (or are priceless and not instrumental at all). In Seneca’s Epistles (LXXI, 33), we can read that values exist that are precious and values exist that have dignitas. Accordingly, the realization of the dignity, more than by the realization of the precious acts,

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

169

things, and states of affairs, fills the human life with a nobler character. Kant repeated almost exactly the same idea in his Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals (or Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals), where he writes that in the Kingdom of Ends there exist means to the ends on the one hand, and, on the other, dignity, which is an absolute inner worth. In the stoical mood, Santayana refers to values (and also to powers), and accordingly he disapproves of relativism in values. More precisely, he does not believe that all values are relative, instrumental, and/or utilitarian. In The Realm of Spirit, Santayana openly reduces the meaning of relativism by writing that “it is ignorance in the heart, ignorance of its spiritual vocation, to attach itself absolutely to anything relative” (Santayana, 1940, p. 188). Santayana’s philosophy of values does not copy the Stoic or Kant’s idea of dignity. Among other things, in his definition of values, he uses the phrase “living being” instead humans to signify the agents or the “recipients” of the benefit or satisfaction. I interpret this as a strong articulation of Santayana’s rejection of anthropocentrism (and anthropomorphism), which ascribes dignity exclusively to human beings. Santayana’s view, which denies man an elevated position in the world of values, contradicts many pragmatists, especially James and Dewey. Additionally, Santayana’s significant conception of the psyche, refers to all living beings, not just to humans (cf., Santayana, 1951/1995, p. 14). Also, Santayana acutely criticizes Dewey’s concept of “foreground” in Santayana’s “Dewey’s Naturalistic Metaphysics” (cf., Santayana, 1936, pp. 223-235), which has much in common with Dewey’s narrowing down of the world of values exclusively to the sphere of the human practice. More differences exist between Santayana and Dewey, and I would like to present them in the context of values and powers. 2. Santayana vs. Dewey on Values and Powers As mentioned above, the approach towards values and powers offers a litmus test for the density of pragmatic factors in the philosophy of Santayana and, additionally, for the significance of the difference between him and Dewey. Briefly, I will present these differences in eight points. To begin with, Dewey’s “instrumentalism” (or, as I have called it: objective relationism) is an axiological position that views values as tools for the realization of the human aims, including: survival, happiness, satisfaction, and social progress. These, in turn, become or can become tools for the realization of further or higher aims. The effectiveness of these tools, or their powerfulness, makes it possible for aims to be better realized than if these tools were impotent. The power of these tools makes progress in the improvement of human aims effective. For Santayana, although he admits that some values are instrumental and relative, there exist such states of things that are not instrumental and not relative, and these things should be seen as worthy without converting them to ulterior purposes. The

170

VALUES AND POWERS

Realm of Essence conspicuously, though not exclusively, articulates this. Later, I will show that, during all periods of his life, Santayana consistently maintained this approach towards works of art. Secondly, for Dewey, the instrumental character of different deeds and states of things means that they serve universal social targets, and hence have definitely a social dimension. Santayana places less emphasis on the social aspect. While Santayana discusses the ontology of society, Dewey’s idea of social unity opposes Santayana’s idea of social atomism where every individual (not the society in general) is a focal point in the world of values (and powers). For Santayana, the individual deserves to work over and possess his or her own, singular, and particular option to freely evaluate things and states of things. Thirdly, Dewey (and the pragmatists) understands that values have changeable, dynamic, and evolving character. Whereas, for Santayana, there exist (apart from things and states of things which are mutable) things and states of things (“essences” in the language of Santayana) that should be approached sub specie aeternitatis, meditated and/or contemplated as eternally static, fixed, and defined. By seeing things sub specie aeternitatis, Santayana understands a more or less intense attention to things and states of things, or, as he puts it: “a steady contemplation of all things in their order and worth” (Santayana, 1910, pp. 1011). In my opinion, we can re-read this to mean that the dignity of things can be perceived and comprehended, and, on the other hand, the dignity of the preceptor kept and developed. This does not preclude Santayana’s sympathy with the American pragmatists regarding the instrumental character of some values. I suppose that Santayana, despite his separation from Charles S. Peirce due to his individual or atomistic (instead of a social or collective) attitude towards values and valuations, shared a broad view on values with Peirce. Santayana and Peirce (unlike James, Dewey, Mead, and Rorty) recognized the weight and meaning of both instrumental and non-instrumental values. In Santayana’s writings, he referred copiously to both traditions existing in philosophy of values. Apart from his sentiments to trends that emphasize the role of the noninstrumental values, like Platonism, Stoicism, and Catholicism in the West and Hindu thought in the East, he also referred to philosophical movements that emphasized, rightly, the role of instrumental values, like pragmatism and Epicureanism in the past, especially when they aimed at the elevation of the quality of everyday and earthly life. I mention the Greek philosophers for a reason. Santayana’s philosophical project, about the shape and the condition of contemporary societies, has as definitely an axiological character as in Dewey’s philosophy. The difference, which is the fourth point, is that pragmatists (including Dewey) look toward the future to construct a better world than it currently exists, whereas Santayana referred to the Greeks more sympathetically in his writings on society and politics. At one point he states, that “[a]mong the Greeks the idea of happiness was aesthetic and that of beauty moral; and this not because the Greeks were

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

171

confused but because they were civilized” (Santayana, 1967, p. 420). Not only does he think of actions in the way that Plato and Aristotle did, I mean by linking ethics with aesthetics (kalokagathia), but he saw in ancient standards advice for us to arrange our social and political issues. He followed the idea of kalokagathia, or the unity of the good and the beautiful, to claim, in The Sense of Beauty, that kalokagathia is “perhaps the finest flower of human nature” (Santayana, 1896/1955, p. 31), and did not want, except for academic reasons, to separate aesthetics from ethics, or the beautiful from the good. Fifthly, Santayana follows the ancient Greeks in thinking of individual life in axiological terms. He imitates Aristotle in claiming that real progress (or success) means “perfections to be achieved” (Santayana, 1951/1995, p. 337). Here, we can find, anthropologically, answers to many questions regarding normative aspects of Santayana’s axiology and the split with those of the American pragmatists who understood progress predominantly as the development of democratic institutions and the avoidance of different types of the social injustice. Sixthly, the attitude towards the values of democracy and its might diverges enough to see them as contradictory for two reasons: the aesthetic character of democracy; and reservations about the role of democracy in social life. As regards the first, we can point to the first stage of Santayana’s philosophy. Namely, in his first philosophical book, The Sense of Beauty, he saw democracy in aesthetic categories, instead of in pragmatic, social, moral, and cultural categories. He describes the power of democracy, but he does so in the context of “multiplicity in uniformity,” not in the context of channeling the energies of men in the realization of social aims. He continues, that it would be quite natural for us to believe, superstitiously, in “the divine right of democracy. Its essential right is something purely aesthetic” (Santayana, 1896/1955, pp. 110, 111). As regards the second, in The Life of Reason, he proposes the idea of timocracy or the government by men of eminence and merit, not democracy, and sees the Roman Church as a good example of the structure of such government (cf., Santayana, 1905-1906/1998, pp. 146-148). Seventhly, Santayana differs from all other pragmatists in his claim regarding the impotence of philosophy. Dewey and all pragmatists maintain that philosophy should play a crucial role in the intellectual life by, shortly speaking, participating in the creation of better ideas and projects in social life. As a result, pragmatists rejected philosophical speculations and systems whose work cannot be converted into the practice of life, and William James’ pragmatism offers perhaps the most telling articulation of this. In Santayana, however, philosophy is impotent due to its epiphenomenal character. He sees philosophy as a commentary on life, instead of a causal force. Finally, the impotence of essence is accompanied by its enormously elevated role in the quality of life. On the one hand, there exist beings (essences) that have some type of ontological independence, like Platonic Ideas. Yet, on the other hand, they are powerless and do not influence social life. At this point, the break with

172

VALUES AND POWERS

Dewey and other pragmatists appears the strongest. Studying Santayana’s approach towards literary works of art, in the light of their ontological character, can give a good insight into his non-pragmatic approach. 3. Ontological Aspects of the Literary Work of Art in Santayana There have been many occasions for us to look upon Santayana as a philosopher who had enormously strong links with the arts, in general, and with literary art in particular. Firstly, he used his pencil as a paintbrush and paper as canvas in order to “paint” a vision of the world in his way, and believed that human articulation of objective truth is a question of attraction instead of argumentation. Secondly, apart from his famous books on philosophy, Santayana also produced poems, a novel, and plays that were inseparable from the philosophical background. He described his five-act play Lucifer. A Theological Tragedy as “a philosophy conveyed in an image” (Santayana, 1936-1940, p. 291). Thirdly, he incorporated many philosophical ideas into his literary works (and many literary devices in his philosophical books), according to his claim that “[t]o turn events into ideas is the function of literature” (Santayana, 1924, p. 138). He wrote amply about the close relationship between philosophy, literature, and poetry. Below, I take a quite general and brief look at some ontological concepts in the context of literature to show that he has achieved something nearly impossible for American pragmatists. Namely, I focus on the ontology of a literary work of art understood as an eminent book (or a play, poem, tragedy, etc.), which we understand as a micro-cosmos, with: a “seat” of values and powers; a complex internal structure; unrepeatable excellence; singularity; completeness; and wisdom. I propose the present topic for three reasons. First, although Santayana did not discuss ontological problems in literature in such a systematic and allembracing way as Roman Ingarden, Nicolai Hartmann, Hans-Georg Gadamer, and others, he did scatter his ideas in diverse places. These ideas are broad, interesting, coherent, and inspiring enough to include his voice in the contemporary debate on the issue. Let us, then, take a look at the scope of the problematics proposed by Santayana and compare it to the most (if not the most) representative book on the topic, The Literary Work of Art. An Investigation of the Borderlines of Ontology, Logic, and Theory of Language by Ingarden. In the comparison, we see that Santayana, with some exceptions, was interested in the most basic questions, such as: the internal structure of the literary work of art; its phonetic, grammatical, lexical, and syntactic dimensions and potentialities; the ontology of the beautiful, of ideas, figures, ideals, and symbols; the relation between space and time within arts and between space and time within physical or astronomical reality; and in the problem of truth, of the possible, and the status of history as expressed by a given work or art.

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

173

Let me interpose, that I am talking about “some exceptions” due to the originality of Ingarden’s work. If we take it in its whole, it cannot be put side by side with Santayana’s idea of the literary work of art. Quite briefly, according to Ingarden, the literary work of art is two-dimensional, which means that the work is composed of several heterogeneous strata, such as: word sounds and phonetic formations; meaning units; systematized aspects; represented entities; and the internal sequence or phases of the work. This, as a whole, constitutes a “polyphonic harmony,” or a multidimensional unity. The second reason is that Santayana, unlike Ingarden and other respected scholars on the topic, was also an artist and composed verses, plays, and a (best-selling) novel. In his novel, he implemented his theoretical ideas into (excellent) literary practice. It happens quite rarely in the humanities, that someone devoted to philosophical speculation is also able to introduce elements of this speculation into the living texture of his or her arts (and vice versa), and to authenticate his or her ideas by the materialization of them in practice. For example, Santayana’s deliberations on ontology were applied in his poems, plays, and novel, which make it possible for us to see his philosophy working in his literature. In this, Santayana is close to the tradition of literary philosophy that I mentioned in the chapter devoted to Ralph Waldo Emerson. However, Santayana’s theory and practice do not compose a closed system, one limited to its orbit. We can use Santayana in order to approach other works of art, classic and contemporary, from different points of view, and follow him in taking a fresh look at the particular works (instead of literary outputs) of Homer, Lucretius, Dante Alighieri, William Shakespeare, Miguel de Cervantes, John Keats, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Emerson, Marcel Proust, and many others. The third reason is my conviction about the importance of research on the ontology of art in general, and on the ontological problems of the literary arts in particular. I understand ontology as the philosophical discipline that deals with the status and the structure of being and its parts. When we approach and investigate a literary work of art ontologically (with an internal structure, references to the external world, and uniquely articulated values and wisdom), there emerges a splendidly fruitful area for intellectual exploration and a vitally crucial corpus of problems for the spiritual orientation in the world. Aristotle’s Poetics is one of the first examples of the reflection about idealizing (and caricaturizing) reality in the arts, which is making it more (or less) beautiful than it factually is. The tradition of hermeneutics, marked by such names as St. Augustine (in De Doctrinae Christiana), F.D.E. Schleiermacher, Wilhelm Dilthey, Martin Heidegger, and Gadamer, is one of the longest in drawing attention to the “proper” interpretation of the Bible and literary texts. Also, one should not forget the intellectual ferment made by the artistic avant-garde and its impact on the issue. We may ask, for example, whether what is presented in a book, in a given scene, and in the character of the protagonist is real. Or, instead, whether it is

174

VALUES AND POWERS

an imitation of reality, a modification or substitution by means of fiction and illusion. If the situation or the character is fictitious and illusory, how, then, can it express true love, genuine feelings, and an adequate reference to the different aspects of the real life? And, if we agree that great literature can present wisdom, does this mean that it can be normative and, therefore, tell us or show us what should be done in circumstances within our real existence? We can even wonder whether in a literary work of art, the variety and density of ontological references to the structure of the “real reality” are, perhaps, articulated more broadly, more expressively, and more directly than they are in other types of the works in the fine arts. These are questions for further debate. To what extent are references to the “real reality” more direct in literature instead of, say, in paintings, theatre, sculpture, architecture, film, music, and the virtual or computer arts? The different proportions of these references and their adequacy depend upon what exactly we understand as ontological issues (time, space, the past, reality, etc.), and what “capabilities” the given art evokes in the given issue. For example, the virtual arts appear to have more capabilities to deal with illusion than, say, traditional sculpture. Yet, works of arts, whether literary or other, appear as converging points where different ontological problems are assembled, side by side with the axiological, cognitive, moral, social, aesthetic, and artistic problems. As a result, they demand our attention. The term “literary work of art,” which I take from Ingarden, was alien to Santayana. Yet, despite this, there exist some good reasons to use it also in the Santayanian context: firstly to stress the distinctiveness of the literary work of art from those types of prose, poetry, and drama that are not literary works of art (these are considered “servile,” or predominantly informative, entertaining, documentary, and/or abortive); secondly, the purposely qualitative and normative aspects of the literary work or art, which as such should, unlike just a book or a play, aim at excellence and beauty; thirdly, its purposely philosophical and ontological character, whereby a literary work of art, unlike other types of literature, cannot be distilled from the background of the realm of matter, or from the “real life” that takes/took place in real time and real space; fourthly, its purposely essentialistic character (ontologically related to the realm of essence, which I will describe more below), according to the main function of literature, which is turning events of real life into ideas; and fifthly, the completion, where the organic unity of the work appears perfect and whole while, simultaneously, appearing as a conglomeration of perfect parts harmoniously matched to one another. Santayana, like Ingarden, investigated the internal structure of the work of art and understood it hierarchically, according to the growth of excellence. In this way, we can discuss the layers or strata within the work of art. In “The Elements and Function of Poetry,” he claimed that we deal with the lowest level of literary work when sound is the most crucial. I use the word “literary,” not “poetic,” as Santayana uses it in one of his earliest texts, because his

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

175

deliberations could be extended to the literary work of art in general. This would agree with the tone of his writings in later years, when he produced his novel. Santayana’s suggestions, in his earlier texts, that poetry is higher than prose can be ignored in the present introductory analyses. They should not, though, be ignored in more detailed studies of Santayana’s thought (cf., Singer, 1957, p. 179). So, while discussing sound, Santayana also means the particular elements associated with it. He explains that the phonetic, metric, and lexical units should be “subjected to a measure, and endowed with a form” (Santayana, 1957b, p. 252). Next, or higher, is the level of words and phrases. Santayana views the formation of words and phrases as made out of the color and richness of their selection, the fancy of their application, the exquisiteness of their juxtaposition, and the affection of their style. Here, meaning is predominantly at stake, which does not mean that the adequacy and power of the words and phrases should be had at the cost of their sounds. Instead, the coexistence of these two perfected layers makes for a perfected whole and coordinate juncture of these two strata. Still higher is the level of imagination, at which the intuition of the essences takes place, along with the sphere of emotions that refer to the essences or the objects selected, rearranged, and focused. In this case, we deal with images and ideas taken from real life and transformed into ideals and symbols. The highest level is the presentation of a reasonable worldview by the author (poet) and “the cosmos he constructs is accordingly an ideal theatre for the spirit in which its noblest potential drama is enacted and its destiny resolved” (ibid., p. 271). This view, however, should be the narrative with a true reference to the real forces in the realm of matter. In this case, it should refer to biological undercurrents, social influences, and historical settings (cf., Singer, 2000, pp. 152-160). As we can see, the structural dimension of a work of art has a hierarchical, instead of typological, character. For this reason, Santayana’s concept is strongly normative since it sets or posits degrees of excellence that should be met in the structural organization of the work. Excellence and/or perfection are not, though, limited to this. As regards the internal unity of the work, Santayana insists that it should have a perfected form. He further insists that each of its parts should have a perfected form so that a greater composition, consisting of sub-units, could be coordinated organically. Santayana once confessed that what he had been yearning for in his writings most of all was a sense of completion (cf., Santayana, 1905-1906/1998, p. x). This, I think, was his main idea as regards the unity of a given work of art. In one of the final statements of The Last Puritan, Santayana, as if commenting on his novel, writes about “painting a picture” instead of “arguing or proving or criticizing anything” (cf. Santayana, 1935/1994, p. 572). His “painting” can be more or less full, perfect, and complete as a picture made by the “real” painter. He made a similar claim in The Sense of Beauty and in “The Elements and Functions of Poetry.” Santayana referred to the Pythagoreans, according to whom beauty is a matter of harmony,

176

VALUES AND POWERS

balance, proportion, and symmetry, while stating that measure, number, and form are conditions for the perfection of the whole work and each part of that whole: “those parts should be coordinated among themselves as the whole is coordinated with the other parts of some greater cosmos” (Santayana, 1957b, p. 252). If we think of a practical and critical implementation of these ideas in the outer literary world, we could find many examples of how Santayana approached, classified, and appreciated different works of art according to this scale of excellence. He criticized, in “The Poetry of Barbarism,” the poems of Walt Whitman, accusing him of sticking to the lowest level of excellence in his art, which is to the most primitive type of perception. Santayana accuses Whitman of only being interested in his sensations of the elementary aspects of things, so that “with Whitman the surface is absolutely all and the underlying structure is without interest and almost without existence” (ibid., p. 179). The genius of Shakespeare, in Santayana’s “The Absence of Religion in Shakespeare,” was appreciated enough by Santayana to see that Shakespeare gave us, as hardly anyone else, “so many passions and moods with such an appropriate variety of style, sentiment and accent” (ibid., p. 147). Yet, for Santayana, Shakespeare lacked a more solid ontological background to his figures, ideas, problems, and emotions. Santayana criticized this lack of reference to a transcendent reality, which could elevate the meaning of life and of action. As a result, Shakespeare distorted one crucial aspect of the human existence so much that readers of his plays and the researchers of his message “would hardly understand that man had had a religion” (ibid.). This is not so with the ancients. Santayana interpreted their poetry as so penetrating, so all-embracing, and so colorful that one could wonder whether there was any essential difference between their poetry and their religion. Santayana claims that the difference between the two was slight enough to say that a religion was still a religion when it reacted directly upon life, with its ways of explanation of unexplainable phenomena, making sense of suffering, and showing the way of salvation both on earth and in heaven; religion is converted into poetry when it (religion) is without the influence upon life. More generally speaking, literary works of art are such that (apart from their aesthetic quality) they can provide a system of thought that helps people find their way in life and interpret it with high level of existential satisfaction. Other types of literature do not offer this complexity, profundity, and beauty. They, at most, can inform us about something, be skillfully written, or symbolize something else. Allow me to propose an outline for how the idea of the literary work of art, as a seat or a conglomeration of diverse elements grouped together and articulated as a whole, appears in Santayana. A good and necessary starting place is Santayana’s idea of essences, most completely presented in The Realm of Essence, according to which they “do not exist,” but are “the deepest, the only inevitable, form of reality” (Santayana,

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

177

1927, pp. 21, 14). Essences are powerless, but can be intuited in the same way as a possibility, no matter how unrealistic. Essences can be intuited, imagined, discussed, and/or referred to. As an illustration of something akin to Santayana’s understanding of essences, and their role in the literary work of art, Santayana proposes Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time. Namely, Santayana claims (in “Proust on Essences”), that Proust focused (as Santayana did) upon the internal character and the qualitative equipment of agents, deeds, objects, feelings, the states of affairs, moments, and places instead of their flux, their causes, their consequences, their spatio-temporal arrangement, and their social contexts. Essences, once they appear, become eternal forms and everlasting images. This does not mean that they are all accessible to the human spirit. The number and the scope of essences is much bigger than anyone can perceive or imagine. No person can embrace the images of all moments, of all situations, of all aspects of life, and of all configurations of potentialities that might be actualized in the realm of matter. Nor does their eternality mean that they can be re-evoked on command, although re-apparition of similar essences can happen quite frequently. Any author, while composing his or her story, selects essences according to different factors, including his or her experience, the given purposes of this message, the context of the story, and its internal logic. The principles, logic, and aims that contribute to the rearrangement are diverse, and depend much on the imagination and spirituality of the given author. At any rate, an understanding of the idea of essence and its ontological status is crucial for understanding Santayana’s idea of reality and beauty in works of literary art. What then, is, the “reality” of literary figures? In the Epilogue to his novel, The Last Puritan. A Memoirs in the Form of a Novel, Santayana tells us that his story is not “realistic” in the sense of following a stream of consciousness or photographing real people. Instead, his story is realistic in its sense of recasting people, and creating imaginary constructions based upon them. He transforms their characters, eliminates elements and features that do not fit the intended picture, while at the same time maintaining the names of real people and places. As a result, his characters are idealized and eternalized creatures of his imagination, although settled in the realm of matter. Santayana rejected realism understood as mimesis, or as literature imitating the people, actions, objects, and states of affairs as they are or have taken place in the factual world. It is pointless to search in his novel, except perhaps occasionally, for sociological data, empirical facts, historic truths, political analyses, and faithful ways of rendering of the members of the public. Imagination makes it possible for the author to re-interpret original figures, facts, and deeds elevate them onto the level of a creative power with special prerogatives. The imagination that Santayana discusses in his theoretical works, which he uses in his literary works, is not an unlimited and free poetic license. For Santayana, this anarchic fancy would produce a mad, solipsistic,

178

VALUES AND POWERS

incoherent, and insane type of imaginative creation. All images have some, relevant, reference to the realms of biological and natural material on the one hand, and to the realms of private, social, and political material on the other. In this reference to the realm of matter, the fruits of the imaginative efforts take their justification, their meaning, and their beauty. Earlier in the novel, Santayana explains that an image constructed in imagination can be detached from the original. Then, the image can be clarified and perfected according to a given standard, and become an object of love (cf., Santayana, 1935/1994, p. 552). The protagonist of Santayana’s novel does not love a woman, and is unable to do so. Instead, he loves the image of a woman, the imaginary picture of her beauty, of her nobility, and of her goodness. To put it differently, he loves, admires, and appreciates the ideal, instead of a true-born female, with her bodily imperfections, her moral failures, her emotional hesitations, her psychological prejudices, her social connections, and her family bonds. We can even claim that what he loves is himself, instead of anyone else, because the image of another person is his creation and it belongs more to him, to his spiritual life, to his sphere of his emotions, and to his way of seeing things (and people) than to the woman. The image hardly constitutes a real character, although, it must be admitted, it refers to that person, to her physical conditions, to her temper, and to her social conditions. Santayana goes much further and shows that momentary beauties and incomplete attractions of daily life can be appropriated to the character of his sensitivity, his imagination, his spirituality, and his vision of things. It can be incorporated, mastered, and perfected in his imagination and then articulated in the arts. In this way, images are “petrified,” kept, possessed for ever, and embodied “in some work of art, or in some idealized reality” (Santayana, 1860-1909/1986, pp. 331-332). Additionally, they can be the fount of spiritual delight for many others in ordinary existence. The process of idealization does not mean stopping time and keeping a given picture in someone’s memory like a photo, and then later rendering the image in the arts. The process of idealization, akin to some degree to metaphysical hypostazation, consists of successive stages, starting with “a poetic or mythical substitution of images for events and of verbal for dynamic elements” (Santayana, 1944-1953/1986, p. 239), and ending with imposing “an unctuous name” (Santayana, 1957c, p. 94) upon it. Unlike the verbal and idolatrous metaphysics, however, this process is not followed by converting these images, nominally and artificially, into operating powers. Instead, they are seen and contemplated upon sub specie aeternitatis, or under the form of eternity. In “Platonic Love in Some Italian Poets,” Santayana describes the whole mechanism in more general terms, writing, “the transformation of the appreciation of beautiful things into the worship of an ideal beauty” (Santayana, 1957b, p. 120). He adds that when someone has been in love with such an ideal, he or she can hardly love anything else unreservedly. According to Santayana, this type of Platonic idealization takes place frequently in literature (including

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

179

poetry), and the Italian poetry of from the thirteenth through the sixteenth centuries is exemplary in this respect. Naturally, the Italian poets, especially Dante, are not the main source of inspiration for Santayana. Instead, Santayana used his Platonic type of ontology (especially in the doctrine of essence) to create concepts and to help him interpret other literary works. Santayana also used this as an interpretative tool for approaching other literary works of art. In his analyses of Divine Comedy, for example, he used Dante’s relation to Beatrice as a motif for the explanation of the concept of the idealization. Santayana considered the transfiguration of Beatrice into a “heavenly protectress and guide” (ibid., p. 121), and Dante’s Platonic love or devotion as “purely mental and poetical” (ibid. p. 122). The stimulation of this idealization, finally, created the concept or essence as the ontological plain for its ultimate result. The literary Beatrice is more than ideal. She is a symbol “whose gentle womanhood fades into an impersonation of theological wisdom” (ibid.). Sometimes this happens in literary works of art, and Santayana confirms, in “Moral Symbols in the Bible,” that we deal with “a translation of moral truth into transparent symbols” (Santayana, 1957a, pp. 152-153). The ideal becomes a symbol when a spontaneous image of a person, a thing, a state of thing, or a deed is transcribed into a more impersonal, more universal, more lasting, and more “effective” evocation of images and ideals in different people. As a result, the ideal can be seen as “a vehicle of true wisdom” (ibid. p. 153). However, Santayana writes, “[t]o poets and philosophers real things are themselves symbols” (Santayana, 1957b, p. 128). This means, in my view, that the potential scope of the things to be seen as symbols is hardly limited for those whose imagination is broad and deep enough to be able to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. His idea of the spiritual life, developed in philosophical books such as The Realm of Spirit, almost claims that different parts of reality, factual or imagined, can serve as symbols. These symbols can convey deeper layers of meanings, beauties, and freedoms for anyone who would care to look at them and be exposed to the power of their attractions. This could be the universal meaning that we all experience regarding the greatest books (and other works of arts) of the past masters. Namely, they can serve as symbols taking us to micro-cosmoses and showing us their beauty and wisdom. Symbols, apart from eminent works of art taken as a whole, can also be singular figures. Santayana confesses that, in his exposition of American themes in his literary and philosophical works, he claims that the “American” in his works is a symbol (Santayana, 1920, p. 168), as are the protagonists in The Last Puritan and Lucifer. Judging from what just has been said, Santayana appears to understand the meaning of symbol in a slightly different way than Ernst Cassirer, although both appreciated its weight in the arts and elsewhere. Cassirer treated (in Essay on Man) language, religion, myths, science, the arts, and history as “symbolic

180

VALUES AND POWERS

forms,” which could help the human mind explain and deal with the external world. Without such symbolic forms, people would not be able to function effectively in their daily lives and would become disoriented in regard to the cognitive dimension of their existence. Humans must produce symbolic forms. Cassirer (while defining the nature of man) describes animal symbolicum as a creature whose constant interpretative efforts of the human, the non-human, and the physical dimensions of world must take place by means of the net of the symbolic forms. Santayana, similarly, claims that humans must render their views of “real reality” by using forms that are, ontologically, made from essences. These views are partly symbols, or forms having special meanings, special depths, and special messages (moral in the first place, others being ideals and images). I think that the idea of the symbolic function of knowledge would be the most common for these two thinkers. In The Sense of Beauty, Santayana described his understanding of the ontological status of beauty as “pleasure objectified” (Santayana, 1896/1955, p.52), which means that subjective emotions are converted into the image, ideal, and symbol. In this way, its initial subjectivity would contain more universal status and more eternal perseverance. Later, in “The Mutability of Aesthetic Categories,” he extended and clarified his definition of beauty by stating that beauty is “a vital harmony felt and fused into an image under the form of eternity” (Santayana, 1967, p. 422). He added, elsewhere, that there exists potential beauty of all sorts latent in the world (Santayana, 1951/1995, p. ix). Literature, as the fine arts in general, can articulate beauty and, even more, produce its beauties in the name of the spiritual life that Santayana promoted in his books. This means, among other things, that he paid special attention to the ability to meditate over the beauty of a given moment and a given situation. In such a situation, an artist or a skilful philosopher can convert a momentary pleasure into an image to be kept, remembered, and contemplated for a long time. Additionally, this image can be translated into arts, although not necessarily. I mean, we do not have to produce poems, paintings, and photos from beautiful situations. It is more crucial to appreciate the immediate, in its purity and directness, instead of turning it into some kind of art, unless we call it an art of good life. From the above, it is apparent that Santayana does not sympathize with tendencies in the arts and aesthetics that, ontologically, make possible and/or require their autonomy and independence from external factors and nonaesthetic or non-artistic references. He believed, instead, that the unity of the beautiful and the good is perhaps the most telling example of that what is beautiful within works of art and has, at the same time, some moral quality and ethical message. Therefore, the beautiful trespasses into an area beyond arts and aesthetics. Van Meter Ames, in his book on Proust and Santayana, describes an aesthetic way of life where a moral action can be seen as valuable when it can give or add significance to aesthetic contemplation. This is a strong revitalization of the Greek idea of kalokagathia. Ontologically, this means that

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

181

moral deeds presented in a book, in a scene, and in a character have an aesthetic quality. They can be seen under a form of eternity in the same way as, say, hosts of philosophers for generations have meditated intellectually, appreciated morally, and contemplated aesthetically Socrates’ act of drinking the hemlock. This example takes us to the problem of the past in literary works of art and in the arts in general. It is well known, even trivial, that works of art can present their times (or perhaps quasi-times, if such a name can be suggested at all), which are different from both physical (or astronomical) time and conventional time indicated by our watches. The physical time in which a reader reads a book is hardly the same than the time presented in particular scenes, in the lifespan of protagonists, and in the arrangement of situations. It also happens, in the contemporary arts, that the time of the plot can be stopped and reverted, despite its impossibility in physical time. Does this mean that every literary work of art (like every film or theatre work of art), if complex enough, can produce or evoke its time, I mean, the time specific to the given work of art? According to Santayana, for whom it is pathological to claim that there is one time divided into the past and the future (cf., Santayana, 1930, p. 61), sentimental time, as “a human version of existence” (ibid., p. 64), expresses a true, although relative, quality of events and “gives a picturesque or emotional rendering of a true situation” (Santayana, 1969, p. 75). Let us take, for example, the duration or the time in which a given image, idea, and symbol can endure the quality of its expression. Here, we can ask whether the action and the characteristic presented in the book represents a situation within that particular scope of time or, instead, represents it as a longer, if not eternal, period of time. Santayana knew America from his experience over a limited period of the real time, from 1870 to 1912, but he provides us with a sentimental time of pictorial America that is much longer. Some scholars even claim that he has given us a true and timeless or “overtemporal” presentation of America. We should ask: exactly how long this time is; how soon this picture becomes stale; and whether the image refers to contemporary America at all. Santayana once remarked, “[h]istory is a poetic art; the Muse, Clio, must inspire it” (Santayana, 1927, p. 132). This suggests that the story, the plot, and the arrangement of events within a literary work of art and outside of it, represents the intended version of what took place. The past cannot be repeated, although it should be remembered. The reconstruction of the past is similar to the art of (re-)composing, but without a direct reference to original events, figures, contexts, meanings, and things. For this reason, what is available here and now should be used to reconstruct what happened there and then. Also, the conventional and arbitrary selection of what should be reconstructed, how this should be done, and who is best predisposed to do such work makes the whole process quite close to the artistic arrangement of forms. Ontologically, the history presented in the work of art has the same status as the essences. History is not the past, as it might appear to those who are not

182

VALUES AND POWERS

accustomed to reflections of the ontological sort, because it is impossible to return in time to what took place some time ago. Instead, we have an imaginary arrangement of essences assembled by a given author/thinker at the particular moment. Something similar, according to Santayana, happens in all attempts, within the area of philosophy of history or historiosophy, when philosophers want to impose upon the past ages schemes of development, progress, and sense according to some present logic. For Santayana, such attempts mean hardly anything more than poetic fiction. Santayana’s approach to the past was accompanied by his approach towards space. He was fully aware that artists, especially painters, had long experimented with space in their arts where space existed differently than the physical space. Artists deal with space by practicing techniques of perspective, illusion, depth, enlargement, diminution, rearrangement of the objects, and many others. One of the most pregnant examples, in the contemporary paintings, was the clash of understanding of space (and reality) by the impressionists (who understood it as objectively variable and fluid) and by the cubists (who experimented with (re-)constructing space). Santayana, who quite frequently used the term “impressionistic” in his writings, had some reservations about cubism (in “Penitent Art”). He paid attention to the imaginative dimension of perceived space, and stressed (in The Realm of Matter) the difference between physical and pictorial space. The delineation (or not) of the borders or limits, within which a given action should take place, is the crucial moment in creating pictorial space. For example, Santayana’s America is, in the first place, not America but that academic and intellectual part of New England (Cambridge and Boston) which he knew from his experience. His pictorial America is not the America that a sociologist, or a politician, or another artist, not to mention a geographer, would refer to. This does not necessarily mean that one pictorial vision of America is more true than another or that one is fully complete and the other is not. Although this, naturally, is possible. Instead, it means that we have many pictorial Americas that refer, in one way or another, to the geographical America with her naturally and politically delineated borders, and these pictorial spaces depend upon the ways that she is imagined by the given agent: one may wish to see her within white and Anglo-Saxon confines; another within a melting-pot; still another might want to apprehend her in her multicultural mosaic; still yet others, like Santayana (in The Last Puritan and “The Genteel Tradition at Bay”), would see it by means of her philosophical binaries, spiritual divisions, and cultural splits that he experienced at Harvard and its intellectual surroundings. In one of his letters, Santayana wrote that Lucifer did “fantastically what my novel has done realistically: study moral contrasts and possibilities” (Santayana, 1937-1940/2004, p. 212). One of the main challenges for the arts, and the main vindication for literary works of art, is to show or study possibilities that cannot be realized in the factual world. Artists present figures,

Santayana, Powers and Perfections

183

characters, deeds, acts, state of things, and situations that could have happened, can happen, and may happen. This is a good connection between ontology and the arts. If we think of a possibility or the possible ontologically, then we can come to the conclusion that it has some sort of existence (as essences have in Santayana’s philosophy), and can be intuited, imagined, dreamt of, and deliberated. It even has some influence upon factual life in the same way as the imagined or possible danger of having a car-accident prevents me from driving too fast. The arts can articulate this and make it possible for artists to enjoy hardly limited freedom in studying possibilities in different contexts and sundry ways. Philosophers share similar vocation, and in The Realm of Essence, Santayana does not recognize a difference between philosophy and the arts, stating that the philosopher: may even think he has discovered a metaphysical world, when in truth he has merely elaborated a system of essences, altogether imaginary, and in no way more deeply rooted in reality than any system of essences which a poet or a musician might compose (Santayana, 1927, p. 3-4). There exist many other ontological aspects of the literary work of art in Santayana. Tragedy, as a unique type of literary work of art, or the tragic, as an ontological aspect of a literary work of art, could be quite inspiring for Santayana scholars. Other inspirational areas may include: the role of the imagination and interpretation; the difference between imagination and fancy; the problem of reality in The Last Puritan; the symbols in Lucifer; and many others. One may hope that further and more profound studies will take place, especially in our present age, infected by the postmodernist emphasis upon the role of different discourses and interpretations. Let me add that present research on Santayana does not include other aspects concerning the literary work of art, such as: epistemological or cognitive; critical; axiological; ethical; social; and others areas where Santayana has much to say. 4. Human and non-Human Virtues as Values Realized by Powers My intention in the present chapter is not to claim that Santayana’s philosophy of values is better than pragmatism, more applicable in the practice of social life, and/or more suitable in practical situations. Instead, I claim that Santayana’s philosophy of values (which he does not explicitly articulate) is ampler and has parts that cannot be seen as pragmatic. In these places, he strongly emphasizes the role of both the instrumental or relative values and, simultaneously, the role of non-relative values. Both are crucial, and this distinguishes him from the pragmatists, whose reservations about Platonic type of metaphysics have sharpened their rejection of non-instrumental and nonrelative values. Although, in practice and implicitly, such articulations also include such elements. For example, Dewey’s instrumentalism is not

184

VALUES AND POWERS

completely instrumental, and includes elements that appear close to those propagated by Santayana, although with different accentuation and different rhetoric. For Santayana, as he states in Dominations and Powers, virtue is the ultimate, final, complete, and/or perfect state of things. It does not refer exclusively to human life and does not have exclusively a moralistic coloring. Without thinking of virtues in a pro-social and anthropocentric way, as Santayana once put it, a catalogue of possible virtues would be nearly unlimited, and the attempt to give pre-eminence to some would lead us to repress or degrade others. This tendency is vindicated morally, rationally and exclusively by the social regulation and coordination of the virtues of the individuals living together in a given area. Virtues as virtues, with any reference to anything external to them, constitute a part of the world of values, although Santayana does not express it in the language of his philosophy of values. On the one hand, he stresses the role of the powers that make it possible for virtues to achieve their final and perfect stage. On the other hand, he does not stress this graduation by means of any of axiological categories, which have been developed by the contemporary axiology. Virtues are often incommensurable, incompatible, and impossible to predict until a social training has been imposed. Human beings are physically almost the same, but they are quite different mentally, psychologically, and spiritually. They have preferences, different ways of self-developments, with variegated objects seen as valuable, and divergent ways of understanding happiness. Tragically, it often happens that dominations imposed on each being made little space for a free execution of one’s vocation(s). It would be hardly possible to predict what form(s) the completion(s) or perfection(s) will be reached, unless an external and conventional regime has been put upon the agent(s) to realize, or to try to realize, this purpose and that ideal. In my opinion, pragmatists, generally speaking, tend to control this, and Santayana does not have any such ambitions.

FINAL REMARKS The present book has not outlined an evolution, or a logical succession, of approaches toward values and powers by the particular representatives of the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism. The only exceptions are the proto-pragmatic attitudes of the transcendentalists and Charles S. Peirce whose relations between values and powers, generally, have a slightly different character than more recent pragmatists have observed. I have chosen to organize the book in this way in order to pay more attention to ontological issues in the traditionally metaphysical sense of this term. In this way, the energy of men has a less-elevated role in Peirce, compared to more anthropocentric systems, in which man and his or her actions occupy center stage in the world of values and powers. In the main part of the book, I present different ways of looking at this relation, without demonstrating any logical succession, or visible development, in the pragmatists’ viewpoints on values and powers. Instead, I evoke a panorama of viewpoints that present the issue from many different angles. In this way, we can discuss many views, within a more or less coherent framework, constituted by two factors: namely, a belief in the power of man and in the power of human institutions as the best components in a just arrangement of the moral community; and a conviction that the moral community must be based on values, and that different types of power must contribute to the melioration of any community (whether big, small, local, universal, political, religious or lay) without going against the vital interests of the members of the community. These factors constitute pragmatism’s general message on values and powers, which is that values cannot be separated from powers. Any discussions regarding the melioration of the world should include, practically and efficiently, the different ways in which this melioration will be executed. At the same time, pragmatists state that we should not think of powers as brute force in the implementation of our vision of social life. Instead, powers should be inseparable from values, and should be used in the name of values and/or in reference to values. The broad scope of views on the issue, provided by the pragmatists, allows us to claim that American pragmatism proposes a consequent approach to the problem, with a unique message. At the same time, American pragmatism is variegated enough to be studied according to the approaches of its main representatives described in the present book. These two dimensions constitute the strength of the pragmatic position: on the one hand, it provides a more or less coherent message on values and powers (and, in this way, on ethics, social issues, and political problems); and, on the other hand, it offers singular insights that can be inspirational in areas of philosophical investigation.

186

VALUES AND POWERS

Roughly speaking, William James emphasizes the internal powers of all men in his strong belief that each and every human being is equipped with natural energy, which should be used in the work of making men (all those living in a society, not just some of them) fully human. John Dewey focuses on improving society by stressing the role of social institutions, such as schools, in making democratic values more precisely and more broadly applicable to society. George Herbert Mead studies the strength of intercommunication amongst individuals who aim their behaviors at the simultaneous development of their lives and their community, and/or their social group. Josiah Royce recognizes powers and values in loyalty to loyalty and in province, along with its traditions, customs, and history. Richard Rorty assumes a cultural viewpoint and concentrates on possible challenges faced during the clash of cultures or conflict of civilizations. In regard to pragmatic aesthetics, Dewey, Richard Shusterman, and Joseph Margolis investigated the extent to which a democratic understanding of the arts can make other, non-democratic, views of the arts equal and significant participants in artistic life. Let me add that other philosophers work within the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism, and they also deserve attention. I do not describe their thoughts in the present book due to any lack of appreciation regarding their originality or profundity. Instead, I wanted to indicate and study the problem with reference to the most representative members of this tradition. The variety of approaches within the tradition of American pragmatism, not only the singular positions of given pragmatists, reveals its attractiveness and comprehensiveness as a source to inspire both familiar and unfamiliar readers. If we consider pragmatism in this way, we can see that American pragmatism has enormous potentiality for the future interpretations. The variety of approaches gives American pragmatism a chance to be recognized as an inspirational movement whose intellectual depth, spiritual power, and cultural calling can also be heard by non-pragmatists. It is nearly impossible to avoid pitfalls in the pragmatic approach. The largest pitfall, in my view, concerns the problem of how and by what means the melioration of the world and the improvement of social life should take place when we assume one way, instead of many different and incompatible ways, of development. For example, it is difficult to discuss pluralism, tolerance, and openness in the face of different ways of growth, development, success, and betterment. I am unsure whether American pragmatism can cope with this pitfall. Accordingly, I suggest that we cannot be tolerant and pluralistic in allowing contrary cultures to thrive beside ours. Yet, at the same time, I further suggest that we should respect, understand, and promote basic or fundamental conditions that make it possible for everyone to develop according to his or her native (or preferable) way. I hope that this does not contradict the opinion of American pragmatists on the subject of values and powers.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Aboulafia, Mitchell (2004) “George Herbert Mead, 1863-1931,” The Blackwell Guide to American Philosophy. Edited by Armen T. Marsoobian and John Ryder. Malden: Blackwell Publishing, pp 174ņ185. Ames, Meter Van (1964) Proust and Santayana. The Aesthetic Way of Life. New York: Clark. Aristotle (1994ņ2000) Metaphysics. Translated by W. D. Ross. The Internet Classics Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/metaphysics.html. ņņņņņ. (1994ņ2000) Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by W. D. Ross. The Internet Classics Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/ nicomachaen.html. ņņņņņ. (1994ņ2000) Poetics. Translated by S. H. Butcher. The Internet Classics Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/poetics.html. Aurelius, Marcus (1994ņ2000) The Meditations. Translated by George Long. The Internet Classics Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Antoninus/ meditations.html. Bacon, Francis (1952) Advancement of Learning. Novum Organum. New Atlantis. Edited by Robert Maynard Hutchins. Chicago, London, and Toronto: Encyclopedia Britannica. BuczyĔska-Garewicz, Hanna (1975) Znak, znaczenie, wartoĞü. Szkice o filozofii amerykaĔskiej. Warszawa: KsiąĪka i Wiedza. Cahoone, Lawrence E. (1991) “Relativism and Metaphysics: On Justus Buchler and Richard Rorty,” Nature’s Perspectives. Prospects for Ordinal Mataphysics. Edited by Armen Marsoobian, Kathleen Wallace, and Robert S. Corrington. Albany: State University of New York Press, pp. 235ņ252. Cassirer, Ernst (1944) An Essay on Man. New Haven: Yale University Press. Castillo, Ramón del (2007) “The Glass Prison. Emerson, James and the Religion of the Individual.” Sergio Franzese, Felicitas Kraemer, eds., Fringes of Religious Experience. Cross-perspectives on William James’s The Varieties of Religious Experience. Frankfurt, Paris, Ebikon, Lancaster, New Brunswick: Ontos Verlag, pp. 93ņ122. Cavell, Stanley (2003) Emerson’s Transcendental Etudes. Edited by David Justin Hodge. Chicago: Stanford University Press. Copleston, Frederick (1989) Historia filozofii. vol. 8. Translated by Bohdan ChwedeĔczuk. Warszawa: Instytut Wydawniczy PAX. Danto, Arthur C. (1977) After the End of Art: Contemporary Art and the Pale of History. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Davies, Stephen (1991) Definitions of Art. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

188

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Dewey, John (1939/1960) Theory of Valuation. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. ņņņņņ. (1934) Art as Experience. New York: Minton, Balch, and Co. ņņņņņ. (1925) Experience and Nature. Chicago and London: Open Court. ņņņņņ. (1916) Democracy and Education. World Wide School, URL= http://www.worldwideschool.org/library/books/socl/education/Democracy and Education/toc.htm ņņņņņ. (1899/1907) The School and Society. Chicago: Chicago University Press. ņņņņņ. (1903) “Emerson—The Philosopher of Democracy.” International Journal of Ethics, Vol. 13, No. 4, pp. 405ņ413. Dilworth, David A. (1989) Philosophy in World Perspective. A Comparative Hermeneutic of the Major Theories. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1870/2008) Society and Solitude. Twelve Chapters. A New Study Edition, with Notes, Philosophical Commentary, and Historical Contextualization by H.G. Callaway. Lewiston, Queenston, Lampeter: The Edwin Mellen Press. ņņņņņ. The Conduct of Life (1860/2006). A Philosophical Reading. Edited by H.G. Callaway. Lanham, Boulder, New York, Toronto, Oxford: University Press of America. ņņņņņ. (1850) Representative Men. Ralph Waldo Emerson Texts, URL= http:// www.emersoncentral.com/. ņņņņņ. (1841a) “Self-Reliance.” Ralph Waldo Emerson Texts, URL= http:// www.emersoncentral.com/. ņņņņņ. (1841b) “The Transcendentalist.” Ralph Waldo Emerson Texts, URL= http:// www.emersoncentral.com/. ņņņņņ. (1837) “The American Scholar.” Ralph Waldo Emerson Texts, URL= http:// www.emersoncentral.com/. ņņņņņ. (1836) “Nature.” Ralph Waldo Emerson Texts, URL= http://www. emersoncentral.com/. Flamm, Matthew Caleb, Lachs, John, and SkowroĔski, Krzysztof Piotr, eds. (2008) American and European Values. Contemporary Philosophical Perspectives. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Flower, Elizabeth and Murphey, Murray G. (1977) A History of Philosophy in America. Vol. 1. New York: Capricorn Books, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

Bibliography

189

Foucault, Michel, (1976ņ1984/2000), Historia SeksualnoĞci. Translated by Bogdan Banasiak. Warszawa: Czytelnik. ņņņņņ. (1961/1987) Historia szaleĔstwa w dobie klasycyzmu. Translated by H. KĊszycka. Warszawa: PIW. Franzese, Sergio (2008) The Ethics of Energy. William James’s Moral Philosophy in Focus. Frankfurt, Paris, Lancaster, New Brunswick: Ontos Verlag. Freud, Sigmund (1930/1962) Civilization and Its Discontent. Translated by James Strachey. New York: Norton. Gadamer, Hans-Georg (1960/1993) Prawda i metoda. Zarys hermeneutyki filozoficznej. Translated by Bogdan Baran. Kraków: inter esse. Gombrowicz, Witold (1938[1937]/2000) Ferdydurke. Translated by Danuta Burchardt. New Haven: Yale University Press. ņņņņņ. (1957/1989). Literackie.

Dziennik

1953ņ1956.

Kraków:

Wydawnictwo

Habermas, Jürgen (1981/2002) Teoria działania komunikacyjnego. Translated by Andrzej Maciej Kaniowski. Warszawa: PaĔstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe. Hickman, Larry (2004) “John Dewey, 1859-1952,” The Blackwell Guide to American Philosophy. Edited by Armen T. Marsoobian and John Ryder. Malden: Blackwell Publishing, pp. 155ņ173. Hobbes, Thomas (1651/1909) Leviathan. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ingarden, Roman (1931/1973) The Literary Work of Art: An Investigation on the Borderlines of Ontology, Logic and Theory of Literature. With an Appendix on the Functions of Language in the Theatre. Translated by George G. Grabowicz, Evanston: Northwestern UP. James, William (1977) The Writings of William James. Edited by John J. McDermott. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. ņņņņņ. (1907a) Pragmatism. A New Name for Some Old Ways of Thinking. New York and London: Longmans, Green & Co. ņņņņņ. (1907b) “The Energies of Men.” Classics in the History of Psychology. URL= http://psychclassics.yorku.ca/James/energies.htm. ņņņņņ. (1902/1982) The Varieties of Religious Experience. New York: Penguin Books. ņņņņņ. (1895ņ1899/2001) The Correspondence of William James. Vol. 8. Edited by John McDermott. Charlottesvile and London: University Press of Virginia.

190

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ņņņņņ. (1890) The Principles of Psychology. New York: Holt. Kant, Immanuel (1785) Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals. Translated by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott. Philosophy on the EServer. URL= http://eserver.org/philosophy/kant/metaphys-of-morals.txt. Kerr-Lawson, Angus (1992) “An Abulensean Pragmatist?” Overheard in Seville. Bulletin of the Santayana Society, no.10, pp. 17ņ21. Koczanowicz, Leszek (2008) “The Modes of Dialogue: Language, Dialogue, and Meaning in Russian Semiotics and American Pragmatism,” American and European Values: Contemporary Philosophical Perspectives, eds. Matthew Caleb Flamm, John Lachs, and Krzysztof Piotr SkowroĔski. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, pp. 217ņ232. ņņņņņ. (1992) G. H. Mead. Wrocław: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocławskiego. Kołakowski, Leszek (1990), Modernity on Endless Trial. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Bruce Kuklick (2001) A History of Philosophy in America. 1720-2000. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Lastra, Antonio (2007) Emerson como educador. Madrid: Editorial Verbum. ņņņņņ. (2004) Emerson Transcendens. La Transcendencia de Emerson. Valencia: Biblioteca Javier Coy d’estudis nord-americans. Lewis, David J., Smith Richard L. (1980) American Sociology and Pragmatism: Mead, Chicago Sociology, and Symbolic Interaction. Chicago: Univesity of Chicago Press. Lovejoy, Arthur O (1963) The Thirteen Pragmatisms and Other Essays. Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press. Lyotard, Jean-Francois (1979) The Postmodern Condition: a Report on Knowledge. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Martín, Pedro García (1989) El sustrato abulense de Jorge Santayana. Avila: Institución “Gran Duque de Alba” de la Excma. Diputación Provincial de Avila. Margolis, Joseph (1999) What, After All, is a Work of Art? Lectures in the Philosophy of Art. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. George Herbert Mead (1938) The Philosophy of the Act, ed. Charles W. Morris with John M. Brewster (Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ņņņņņ. (1934) Mind Self and Society from the Standpoint of a social Behaviorist (ed. by Charles W. Morris). Chicago: University of Chicago.

Bibliography

191

ņņņņņ. (1932) The Philosophy of the Present. Edited by Arthur E. Murphy. LaSalle, Illinois: Open Court. ņņņņņ. (1926) “The Objective Reality of Perspectives.” The Mead Project at Brock University. URL= http://www.brocku.ca/MeadProject/Mead/pubs2/ papers /Mead 1926b. html. ņņņņņ. (1922) “A Behavioristic Account of the Significant Symbol,” Journal of Philosophy, 19, pp. 157-163. Montaigne, Michel de, (1985) Próby. Vol. 1-3. Translated by Tadeusz ĩeleĔski (Boy). Warszawa: PIW. Charles W. Morris (1970) The Pragmatic Movement in American Philosophy. New York: George Braziller. ņņņņņ. (1964) Signification and Significance. A Study of the Relations of Signs and Values. Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press. Nietzsche, Frederick (1901/1993) Wola Mocy. Translated by Stefan Frycz and Konrad Drzewiecki. Warszawa: bis. ņņņņņ. (1887/2001) On the Genealogy of Morals. Translated by Ian C. Johnston. The Online Books Page. URL= http://records.viu.ca/~johnstoi/ Nietzsche/genealogytofc.htm. ņņņņņ. (1883/1998) Thus Spake Zarathustra. Translated by Thomas Common. Project Gutenberg. URL= http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/ webbin/gutbook/lookup ?num= 1998. Pawelski, James O. (2007) The Dynamic Individualism of William James. Albany: SUNY. Peirce, Charles Sanders (1893ņ1913/1992). The Essential Peirce. Selected Philosophical Writings, vol. 2. Edited by The Peirce Edition Project. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. ņņņņņ. Collected Papers (1958ņ1966). Edited by Charles Hartshorne and Paul Weiss. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. ņņņņņ. Selected Writings (Values in a Universe of Chance) (1966). Edited by Philip P. Wiener. New York: Dover. Plato. Gorgias. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. The Internet Classic Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/gorgias.html. ņņņņņ. Phaedo. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. The Internet Classic Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/phaedo.html. ņņņņņ. Timaeus. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. The Internet Classic Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/timaeus.html.

192

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ņņņņņ. The Republic. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. The Internet Classic Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/republic.html. Plotinus. (1994ņ2000) The Six Enneads. Translated by Stephen Mackenna and B. S. Page. The Internet Classics Archive. URL= http://classics.mit.edu/ Plotinus/enneads.html. Putnam, Hilary (2001), Enlightenment and Pragmatism. Assen: Uitgeverij Van Gorcum. Rescher, Nicolas (2005) “Pragmatism at the Crossroads,” Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society. A Quarterly Journal in American Philosophy, Vol. XLI, No. 2 (Spring), pp. 355-365. Rorty, Richard (1999) “Amerykanizm i pragmatyzm,” Filozofia AmerykaĔska dziĞ. Translated by Adam GrzesiĔski. Edited by Tomasz KomendziĔski and Andrzej Szahaj. ToruĔ: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Mikołaja Kopernika, pp. 119-144. ņņņņņ. (1991) Objectivity, Relativism, and Truth. Philosophical Papers, vol. I. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. ņņņņņ. (1989) Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Josiah Royce (2005). The Basic Writings of Josiah Royce. Edited by John J. McDermott. Vol. 1-2. New York: Fordham University Press. ņņņņņ. (1908/1995). The Philosophy of Loyalty. Nashville and London: Vanderbilt University Press. Russell, Bertrand (1938/2001) Władza. Nowa analiza społeczna. Translated by Marek Kądzielski and Robert GołĊbiewski. Warszawa: KsiąĪka i Wiedza. Santayana, George (1969) Physical Order and Moral Liberty. Previously Unpublished Essays. Edited by John and Shirley Lachs. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press. ņņņņņ. (1967) Animal Faith and Spiritual Life. Previously Unpublished and Uncollected Writings by George Santayana with Critical Essays on His Thought. Edited by John Lachs. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. ņņņņņ. (1957a) The Idler and His Works and Other Essays. Edited by Daniel Cory. New York: George Brazillier, Inc. ņņņņņ. (1957b) Interpretations of Poetry and Religion. New York: Harper. ņņņņņ. (1957c) Winds of Doctrine and Platonism and the Spiritual Life. New York: Harper. ņņņņņ. (1951/1995) Dominations and Powers: Reflections on Liberty, Society, and Government. New York: Scribner’s Sons.

Bibliography

193

ņņņņņ. (1944ņ1953/1986) Persons and Places. Fragments of Autobiography. Critical Edition. Edited by William G. Holzberger and Herman J. Saatkamp, Jr. Cambridge, Mass., and London: The MIT Press. ņņņņņ. (1940) The Realm of Spirit. Book Fourth of Realm of Being. New York: Scribner’s Sons. ņņņņņ. (1937ņ1940/2004) The Letters of George Santayana. Book Six. Edited by William G. Holzberger. Cambridge, Mass., and London: The MIT Press. ņņņņņ. (1936ņ1940) The Works of George Santayana. Triton Edition, vol. 1. New York: Scribner’s Sons. ņņņņņ. (1936) Obiter Scripta. Lectures, Essays and Reviews. Edited by Justus Buchler and Benjamin Schwartz. London and New York: Scribner’s Sons. ņņņņņ. (1935/1994) The Last Puritan. A Memoirs in the Form of a Novel. Critical Edition. Edited by William Holzberger and Herman J. Saatkamp Jr. Cambridge, Mass., and London: The MIT Press. ņņņņņ. (1930) The Realm of Matter. Book Second of Realm of Being. New York: Scribner’s Sons. ņņņņņ. (1927) The Realm of Essence. Book First of Realms of Being. New York: Scribner’s Sons. ņņņņņ. (1924) Little Essays. Edited by Logan Pearsall Smith. New York: Scribner’s Sons. ņņņņņ. (1920) Character and Opinion in the United States with the Reminiscences of William James and Josiah Royce and Academic Life in America. New York: Scribner’s Sons. ņņņņņ. (1910) Three Philosophical Poets. Lucretius, Dante, and Goethe. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. ņņņņņ. (1905ņ1906/1998) The Life of Reason. New York: Prometheus Books. ņņņņņ. (1896/1955) The Sense of Beauty: Being an Outline of Aesthetic Theory. New York: Dover. ņņņņņ. (1860ņ1909/1986). The Letters of George Santayana. Book One. Edited by William G. Holzberger and Herman J. Saatkamp Jr. Cambridge, Mass., and London: The MIT Press. Shusterman, Richard (2008) Body Consciousness. A Philosophy of Mindfulness and Somaesthetics. ņņņņņ. (2007). O sztuce i Īyciu. Od poetyki hip-hopu do filozofii somatycznej. Translated by Wojciech Małecki. Wrocław: Atla 2.

194

BIBLIOGRAPHY

'''''. (1997/2005). Praktyka filozofii, filozofia praktyki. Pragmatyzm z ycie filozoficzne. Translated by Alina Mitek. Kraków: Universitas. '''''. (1992/1998). Estetyka pragmatyczna. ywe pikno i refleksja nad sztuk. Translated by Adam Chmielewski, Ewa Ignaczak, Leszek Koczanowicz, *ukasz Nysler, and Andrzej Orzechowski. Wrocaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocawskiego. Singer, Irving (2000) George Santayana, Literary Philosopher. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. '''''. (1957) Santayana’s Aesthetics. A Critical Introduction. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Skowro+ski, Krzysztof Piotr (2007) Santayana and America. Values, Liberties, Responsibility. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Spinoza, Baruch. Ethics. Translated by R. H. M. Elwes. Classics in the History of Philosophy. URL= http://frank.mtsu.edu/~rbombard/RB/Spinoza/ethicafront.html. Stikkers, Kenneth W (2008) “The Primacy of Value in Max Scheler and American Pragmatism,” American and European Value: Contemporary Philosophical Perspectives. Edited by Matthew Caleb Flamm, John Lachs, and Krzysztof Piotr Skowro+ski. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, pp. 164'174. Szahaj, Andrzej (2002) Ironia i mio. Neopragmatyzm Richarda Rorty’ego w kontekcie sporu o postmodernizm. Wrocaw: FNP. Szymborska, Wisawa (2005) “Photograph from September 11.” Monologue of a Dog. Translated by Clare Kavanagh and Stanisaw Bara+czak. Tatarkiewicz, Wadysaw (2006). History of Aesthetics. Edited by. J. Harrell, C. Barrett, and D. Petsch. London: Continuum International Group. '''''. (1989). Dobro i oczywisto. Lublin: Wydawnictwo Lubelskie. Tauber, Alfred I. (2001) Henry David Thoreau and the Moral Agency of Knowing. Berkeley: University of California Press. Taylor, Marc C (1991), “Paralectics,” Mark C. Taylor, Robert P. Scharlemann, Roy Wagner, Michael Brint, Richard Rorty, On the Other: Dialogue and/or Dialectics: Mark Taylor’s “Paralectics.” New York: University Press of America. Thayer, H. S., ed. (1982) Pragmatism. The Classic Writings. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company. '''''. (1981) Meaning and Action: A Critical History of Pragmatism. Indianapolis: Hackett.

Bibliography

195

Thoreau, Henry David (1854) “Slavery in Massachusetts.” URL= http://www. transcendentalists.com/slaveryinma.htm. ņņņņņ. (1849) “Civil Disobedience.” The Thoreau Reader, URL= http:// eserver.org/ thoreau/civil.html. West, Cornel (1989) The American Evasion of Philosophy. A Genealogy of Pragmatism. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Wilkoszewska, Krystyna (2003) Sztuka jako rytm Īycia. Rekonstrukcja filozofii sztuki Johna Deweya. Kraków: Universitas.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Krzysztof (Chris) Piotr Skowro+ski, PhD, currently teaches Contemporary Philosophy, Aesthetics, Cultural Anthropology, Polish Philosophy, and American Philosophy at the Institute of Philosophy, Opole University, Poland. He authored the book Santayana and America. Values, Liberties, Responsibility (Cambridge Scholars 2007) and co-edited, with Matthew Flamm, Under Any Sky. Contemporary Readings of George Santayana (Cambridge Scholars 2007) and, with Matthew Flamm and John Lachs, American and European Values: Contemporary Philosophical Perspectives, (Cambridge Scholars 2008).

INDEX Aboulafia, M., 145 absolute pragmatism, 1, 81-84 abulensean, xvi, 167, 168 accumulation of values, 14, 15-19, 32, 52, 53, 54, 64, 65-70, 76, 97, 107, 108, 114, 117, 118, 154 act, 137, 138-143 ahimsa, 79 America, xiv, xv, 8, 32, 36, 67, 78, 84, 85, 109, 118, 161, 181, 182 Americanism, xv, 8, 32 americanization, 17, 41, 157 Ames, V. M., 180 Amish, 108 Anaxagoras, 10 anthropocentrism, 24, 29, 44, 54, 60, 76, 83, 106, 130, 168, 169 anthropology, 20, 29, 42, 63, 71, 73, 74, 106, 124, 148 Aristotle, 10, 18, 20, 24, 39, 45, 46, 74, 100, 119, 125, 171, 173 Augustine, St., 28, 47, 100, 119, 173 Aurelius, M., 19, 28, 69 avant-garde, 12, 41, 42, 43, 60, 72, 73, 117, 120, 121, 122, 127, 131, 173 Bacon, F., 45, 46 Bacon, R., 45 Bentham, J., 13 Berkeley, G., 40, 121 Brentano, F., 9 BuczyĔska-Garewicz, H., 139, 143 Cahoone, L. E., 154 Callicles, xiii, 19 Cambridge Platonists, 9 Camus, A., 28 Cassirer, E., 50, 179, 180 Castillo, R., 30 Cavell, E., 34 Cervantes, M., 173 Cioran, E., 28

Communist, xiv, 43, 126, 127 Copleston, F., 4, 6, 97 Coubertin, P., 129 cubism, 42, 120, 182 cultural imperialism, xvi, 77, 151, 154, 157-163 Cynics, 72, 126 Dadaism, 42, 120 Danisi, J., 71 Dante, 173, 179 Davies, S., 131 democracy, xv, xvi, 8, 23, 24, 28, 29, 38, 67, 95, 96, 99, 104-109, 110, 113, 117-121, 124-130, 149, 151-163, 167, 171 Descartes, R., 47, 49, 50 Dewey, J., xiii, xv, xvi, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 24, 28, 29, 32, 33, 38, 39, 40, 81, 83, 95-115, 117-122, 124, 129, 130, 143, 152, 161, 167, 169-172, 184, 186 Dilthey, W., 173 Dilworth, D., 2 Dostoyevski, F., 28 Duchamp, M., 135 Education, xvi, 17, 23, 33, 68, 95, 96, 104, 107, 108, 109-115, 117, 118, 125, 135, 136, 153, 154, 161 Ehrenfels, C., 9 Emerson, R. W., xiii, xv, 5, 8, 9, 27-37, 73 Enlightenment, 151, 160, 161, 162 Epicureanism, 170 Epicureans, 126 epistemology, 12, 51, 167 ethics, xiii, 9, 10, 12, 20, 44, 48, 53, 60, 61, 66, 74, 76, 82, 87, 100, 101, 106, 125, 126, 146, 151, 152, 159, 167, 171, 185 ethnocentrism, 54, 55, 151, 155 Europe, 81, 82, 120

200 European Union, 82 exclusion, 23, 95, 96, 104, 105, 106, 107, 114, 117-122, 124130 existentialism, 128 expressionism, 42, 120 Flower, 33 Foucault, xiv, 16, 22, 23, 89, 126 Franzese, 61 freedom, xiv, 68, 79, 95, 97, 98, 107, 108, 122-124, 125, 148, 149, 151, 152, 154, 158, 160, 179, 183 Freud, xiii, 10, 21, 42, 43, 120, 121 Gadamer, 172, 173 Germany, 5, 87, 105 gesture, 124, 127, 138-143 Goethe, 28, 34, 173 Gombrowicz, 28, 127, 130 Habermas, 147 Hartmann, 9, 40, 172 Harvard, 59, 84, 182 Hegel, 12, 37, 50 Heidegger, 173 Hickman, 109, 115 Hobbes, xiii, 20 Holmes, 34 Homer, 173 Hume, 13, 121 Husserl, 42, 43 idealism, xv, 6, 30, 40 individualism, 28, 35, 37, 45, 7174, 122 Ingarden, 40, 172, 173, 174 instrumentalism, xiii, 9, 168, 169, 184 James, xiii, xv, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 18, 24, 28, 29, 30, 32, 33, 37, 38, 39, 59-79, 81, 83, 85, 114, 130, 152, 167, 169, 170, 171, 186 Jessup, 10 kalokagathia, 10, 53,129, 171, 180 Kant, 10, 50, 121, 168, 169 Keats, 173

INDEX Kerr-Lawson, 168 Koczanowicz, 139, 147 Kohelet, 28 Kołakowski, 160 Kuklick, 152 Laird, 9 Lapie, 9 Lastra, 34 Lewis, 5 liberal democracy, xvi, 151, 153, 154, 156, 157-161 literary work of art, 172-183 Locke, 121 Lotze, 9, 87 Lovejoy, 5 loyalty, xv, 59, 68, 81-93, 132, 154, 157, 186 Lucretius, 28, 173 Lyotard, 43 Margolis, xiii, xvi, 8, 117, 131136, 186 Marsoobian, 4 Martin, 167 Marx, xiii, 21 McDermott, 71 Mead, xiii, xv, xvi, 4, 5, 6, 9, 21, 24, 39, 81, 83, 114, 137-149, 167, 170, 186 meaning, 139, 142, 143-145 meliorism, 29, 66, 68, 107, 120, 122 Montaigne, 12, 28, 34, 40, 45, 72, 126 Moore, 9 Morris, 4, 10, 138, 139 Münstenberg, 10 Murphy, 33 Napoleon, 34 naturalism, 7, 9, 30 neopragmatism, xiii, 1, 8 Nietzsche, xiii, 10, 12, 21, 22, 28, 42, 43, 47, 72, 73, 74, 84, 121 objectivism, 1, 101, 152 ontology, 8, 39, 40, 43, 51, 61, 106, 167, 170, 172, 173, 179, 183

INDEX pacifism, 77-78 Pawelski, 71 Peirce, xiii, xv, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 3955, 114, 170, 185 perfection, 18, 20, 47, 67, 84, 107, 108, 109, 119, 120, 124, 128, 167, 168-169, 171, 175, 176, 184 Perry, 10, 71 Philippines, 78, 85 Plato, 10, 11, 19, 28, 34, 39, 40, 53, 100, 106, 107, 115, 117, 119, 152, 171 Platonic, 9, 16, 30, 81, 83, 99, 106, 107, 118, 119, 120, 131, 171, 178, 179, 183 Platonism, 11, 106, 117, 118, 119, 152, 168, 170 Plotinus, 9, 45, 119 Poland, 126, 129 postmodernism, 1, 120 pragmaticism, xiii, xv, 1, 6, 8, 9, 39, 43 pragmatic aesthetics, xiii, xvi, 8, 117-136, 186 pragmatic metaphysics, 59-79 Protagoras, 12 Proust, 173, 177, 180 provincialism, xv, 24, 81, 82, 83, 90-93 Putnam, 151, 157 Pythagorean, 7, 119, 120 Pythagoreans, 10, 39, 119, 175 Quine, 151 relationism, 101-104, 169 relativism, 99, 100, 101, 106, 107, 154, 161, 169 Rescher, 1 Rickert, 10 Rorty, xiii, xv, xvi, 4, 5, 6, 8, 24,38, 39, 55, 77, 81, 83, 106, 151-163, 170, 186 Royce, xiii, xv, 4, 5, 6, 8, 24, 59, 81-93, 186

201 Russell, xv, 24 Ryder, 4 Santayana, xv, xvi, 5, 8, 9, 10, 12, 33, 45, 47, 50, 72, 73, 74, 78, 84, 85, 167-184 Scheler, 9, 40, 96 Schleiermacher, 173 Schopenhauer, 120 self-reliance, 29, 36 Seneca, 168 Shaftesbury, 53 Shakespeare, 34, 173, 176 Shusterman, xiii, xvi, 8, 53, 117, 118, 124-130, 151, 186 Singer, 175 SkowroĔski, xvi, 8 Smith, J. E., 71 Smith, R. L., 5 social interaction, xvi, 17, 137, 138, 141, 142 social progress, xvi, 67, 120, 138, 145-149, 155, 169 Socrates, 10, 47,127181 Socratic, 3, 65 solidarity, 24, 151, 152, 155, 156, 158, 161-163 somaesthetics, 124-130 Spinoza, 12, 45 Stikkers, 96 stoical, 7, 69, 108, 167, 168, 169 stoicism, 170 Stoics, 119 success, 13, 31, 32, 33, 44, 45, 46, 62, 63, 66, 72, 73, 86, 92, 96, 140, 154, 168, 171, 186 subjectivism, 101, 163 Swedenborg, 34 Szahaj, 159 Szymborska, 134 Tatarkiewicz, 101, 119 Tauber, 37 Taylor, 157 Thayer, 4, 95 Thomas Aquinas, 100

202 Thoreau, xiii, xv, 8, 27, 28, 34, 37-38, 126 Thrasymachus, xiii, 19 transcendentalism, xiii, 1, 6, 8, 9, 27-38 Unamuno, 28 Urban, 10 via negativa, 18, 54, 97, 108, 109 Vitruvius, 119 West, C., 6 Whitman, 8, 176 Wilkoszewska, 120 Windelband, 10 Witkacy, 127, 129, 130

INDEX

VIBS The Value Inquiry Book Series is co-sponsored by: Adler School of Professional Psychology American Indian Philosophy Association American Maritain Association American Society for Value Inquiry Association for Process Philosophy of Education Canadian Society for Philosophical Practice Center for Bioethics, University of Turku Center for Professional and Applied Ethics, University of North Carolina at Charlotte Central European Pragmatist Forum Centre for Applied Ethics, Hong Kong Baptist University Centre for Cultural Research, Aarhus University Centre for Professional Ethics, University of Central Lancashire Centre for the Study of Philosophy and Religion, University College of Cape Breton Centro de Estudos em Filosofia Americana, Brazil College of Education and Allied Professions, Bowling Green State University College of Liberal Arts, Rochester Institute of Technology Concerned Philosophers for Peace Conference of Philosophical Societies Department of Moral and Social Philosophy, University of Helsinki Gannon University Gilson Society Haitian Studies Association Ikeda University Institute of Philosophy of the High Council of Scientific Research, Spain International Academy of Philosophy of the Principality of Liechtenstein International Association of Bioethics International Center for the Arts, Humanities, and Value Inquiry International Society for Universal Dialogue Natural Law Society Philosophical Society of Finland Philosophy Born of Struggle Association Philosophy Seminar, University of Mainz Pragmatism Archive at The Oklahoma State University R.S. Hartman Institute for Formal and Applied Axiology Research Institute, Lakeridge Health Corporation Russian Philosophical Society Society for Existential Analysis Society for Iberian and Latin-American Thought Society for the Philosophic Study of Genocide and the Holocaust Unit for Research in Cognitive Neuroscience, Autonomous University of Barcelona Whitehead Research Project Yves R. Simon Institute

Titles Published Volumes 1 - 177 see www.rodopi.nl 178. Constantin V. Ponomareff and Kenneth A. Bryson, The Curve of the Sacred: An Exploration of Human Spirituality. A volume in Philosophy and Religion 179. John Ryder, Gert Rüdiger Wegmarshaus, Editors, Education for a Democratic Society: Central European Pragmatist Forum, Volume Three. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values   180. Florencia Luna, Bioethics and Vulnerability: A Latin American View. A volume in Values in Bioethics   181. John Kultgen and Mary Lenzi, Editors, Problems for Democracy. A volume in Philosophy of Peace 182. David Boersema and Katy Gray Brown, Editors, Spiritual and Political Dimensions of Nonviolence and Peace. A volume in Philosophy of Peace 183. Daniel P. Thero, Understanding Moral Weakness. A volume in Studies in the History of Western Philosophy 184. Scott Gelfand and John R. Shook, Editors, Ectogenesis: Artificial Womb Technology and the Future of Human Reproduction. A volume in Values in Bioethics 185. Piotr Jaroszyński, Science in Culture. A volume in Gilson Studies 186. Matti Häyry, Tuija Takala, Peter Herissone-Kelly, Editors, Ethics in Biomedical Research: International Perspectives. A volume in Values in Bioethics 187. Michael Krausz, Interpretation and Transformation: Explorations in Art and the Self. A volume in Interpretation and Translation 188. Gail M. Presbey, Editor, Philosophical Perspectives on the “War on Terrorism.” A volume in Philosophy of Peace 189. María Luisa Femenías, Amy A. Oliver, Editors, Feminist Philosophy in Latin America and Spain. A volume in Philosophy in Latin America

190. Oscar Vilarroya and Francesc Forn I Argimon, Editors, Social Brain Matters: Stances on the Neurobiology of Social Cognition. A volume in Cognitive Science 191. Eugenio Garin, History of Italian Philosophy. Translated from Italian and Edited by Giorgio Pinton. A volume in Values in Italian Philosophy 192. Michael Taylor, Helmut Schreier, and Paulo Ghiraldelli, Jr., Editors, Pragmatism, Education, and Children: International Philosophical Perspectives. A volume in Pragmatism and Values 193. Brendan Sweetman, The Vision of Gabriel Marcel: Epistemology, Human Person, the Transcendent. A volume in Philosophy and Religion 194. Danielle Poe and Eddy Souffrant, Editors, Parceling the Globe: Philosophical Explorations in Globalization, Global Behavior, and Peace. A volume in Philosophy of Peace 195. Josef Šmajs, Evolutionary Ontology: Reclaiming the Value of Nature by Transforming Culture. A volume in Central-European Value Studies 196. Giuseppe Vicari, Beyond Conceptual Dualism: Ontology of Consciousness, Mental Causation, and Holism in John R. Searle’s Philosophy of Mind. A volume in Cognitive Science 197. Avi Sagi, Tradition vs. Traditionalism: Contemporary Perspectives in Jewish Thought. Translated from Hebrew by Batya Stein. A volume in Philosophy and Religion 198. Randall E. Osborne and Paul Kriese, Editors, Global Community: Global Security. A volume in Studies in Jurisprudence 199. Craig Clifford, Learned Ignorance in the Medicine Bow Mountains: A Reflection on Intellectual Prejudice. A volume in Lived Values: Valued Lives 200. Mark Letteri, Heidegger and the Question of Psychology: Zollikon and Beyond. A volume in Philosophy and Psychology 201. Carmen R. Lugo-Lugo and Mary K. Bloodsworth-Lugo, Editors, A New Kind of Containment: “The War on Terror,” Race, and Sexuality. A volume in Philosophy of Peace

202. Amihud Gilead, Necessity and Truthful Fictions: Panenmentalist Observations. A volume in Philosophy and Psychology 203. Fernand Vial, The Unconscious in Philosophy, and French and European Literature: Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Century. A volume in Philosophy and Psychology 204. Adam C. Scarfe, Editor, The Adventure of Education: Process Philosophers on Learning, Teaching, and Research. A volume in Philosophy of Education 205. King-Tak Ip, Editor, Environmental Ethics: Intercultural Perspectives. A volume in Studies in Applied Ethics 206. Evgenia Cherkasova, Dostoevsky and Kant: Dialogues on Ethics. A volume in Social Philosophy 207. Alexander Kremer and John Ryder, Editors, Self and Society: Central European Pragmatist Forum, Volume Four. A volume in Central European Value Studies 208. Terence O’Connell, Dialogue on Grief and Consolation. A volume in Lived Values, Valued Lives 209. Craig Hanson, Thinking about Addiction: Hyperbolic Discounting and Responsible Agency. A volume in Social Philosophy 210. Gary G. Gallopin, Beyond Perestroika: Axiology and the New Russian Entrepreneurs. A volume in Hartman Institute Axiology Studies 211. Tuija Takala, Peter Herissone-Kelly, and Søren Holm, Editors, Cutting Through the Surface: Philosophical Approaches to Bioethics. A volume in Values in Bioethics 212. Neena Schwartz: A Lab of My Own. A volume in Lived Values, Valued Lives 213. Krzysztof Piotr Skowroński, Values and Powers: Re-reading the Philosophical Tradition of American Pragmatism. A volume in Central European Value Studies