Kindle the fire of the mind

Plutarch: 'The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled'

Freedom and courage

“The freedom to think involves the courage to stumble upon our demons."

— Alain de Botton

The epistemology of violence

In his article in The New York Times today, James Kirchick has this tidbit near the end, and I might have to do a whole essay on it:

The conflation of “beliefs” and “violence” is a menacing sleight of hand, the predicate to a regime of prior restraint and criminal prosecution of those who espouse whatever the government of the day considers harmful and hateful ideas.

A life rich with Humanities is a rich life.

"Finally, and most important, these students exude confidence and pride in their lives. Their curiosity and newfound sense of self-mastery is likely to sustain them through life’s vicissitudes and give them a deep inner world into which to delve when the going is tough, the “inner citadel” of which the ancient Greek and Roman Stoics spoke as they confronted their own tough times. What I saw was joy, the sort of joy the philosopher Seneca described: not the flighty joy of the partygoer, but a solid inner joy that comes from discovering yourself." -- Martha Nussbaum, "The Humanities are Alive and Well in Utah," Chronicle of Higher Education, January 17, 2024

Philosophy & Star Trek

SOPHIA Roanoke is happening again, this time with a Philosophy & Star Trek series:

I’m late to get the fliers printed, and I’m too worn out from this week and blissed out from my massage to really do much other than send texts. I miss Kinko’s.

The Beauty of the Earth

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. ---- Rachel Carson

 

Beyond individual self-interest

Notes from "Judith Butler Wants Us to Reshape Our Rage" 

"Acknowledging dependency as a condition of who any of us happens to be is difficult enough. But the larger task is to affirm social and ecological interdependence, which is regularly misrecognized as well. If we were to rethink ourselves as social creatures who are fundamentally dependent upon one another—and there’s no shame, no humiliation, no “feminization” in that—I think that we would treat each other differently, because our very conception of self would not be defined by individual self-interest." 

"What do we owe those with whom we inhabit the earth? And what do we owe the earth, as well, while we’re at it? And why do we owe people or other living creatures that concern? Why do we owe them regard for life or a commitment to a nonviolent relationship? Our interdependency serves as the basis of our ethical obligations to one another." 

"what would it mean to live in a world of radical equality? My argument is that then we cannot kill one another, we cannot do violence to one another, we cannot abandon each other’s lives."  (emphasis added)

"If I think of myself not just as this bounded individual but as fundamentally related to others, then I locate this self in those relations. In that case, the self I am trying to defend is not just me but all those relations that define and sustain me, and those relations can, and should be, extended indefinitely beyond local units like family and community."

"we don’t need a new rational justification for nonviolence. We actually need to pose the question of violence and nonviolence within a different framework, where the question is not “What ought I to do?” but “Who am I in relation to others, and how do I understand that relationship?”"

"We have to be able to identify institutional modes of violence, including prisons and the carceral state, that are too often taken for granted and not recognized as violent. It’s a question of bringing out in clear terms those institutions and sets of policies that regularly make these kinds of distinctions between valuable and non-valuable lives." [e.a]

The narcissism of small differences

"Don't be so eager to be offended. The narcissism of small differences leads to the most boring conformity."

--Lydia Tár 

Love of justice is essential

A career in philosophy means nothing if it means being silent in the face of evil. “Love of wisdom” is just words without love of justice. -- Jennifer Foster

The Age of Spiritual Machines

Ray Kurzweil loves intelligent machines. He has a vision beyond just intelligence, though, one of partnership that will take us to a new era of human gentleness, an era hallmarked by a positive and supportive integration with machines that are not only intelligent, but spiritual. 

In Kurzweil's vision, "life in the new millennium no longer seems daunting. Instead, Kurzweil’s twenty-

first century promises to be age in which the marriage of human sensitivity and artificial intelligence fundamentally alters and improves the way we live." 

In The Age of Spiritual Machines, Kurzweil predicts that machine memory and computational ability will surpass that of human in 2020, ushering in an era hallmarked by "relationships with automated personalities," wherein humans will interact with machines as their "teachers, companions, and lovers." By 2030, he tells us, "information will be fed straight into our brains along direct neural pathways; computers, for their part, will have read all the world's literature. The distinction between [humans] and computers will have become sufficiently blurred that when the machines claim to be conscious, we will believe them."

Bill Joy, of Sun Microsystems, met Kurzweil at a conference in 1999 and Ray shared a pre-publication partial reprint of Age. Bill was so affected by the conversations with Ray and others at the conference that he described it as a subject "haunts me to this day." He ended up writing a longform article (the .pdf is 18 pages), published in Wired, about a much less idyllic future than the one Kurzweil envisions, a future that is essentially already upon us, one that––due  to the self-replicating nature of early 21st century technological innovations of genetics, nanotechnology, and robotics (GNR)––have the capacity to end human life on the planet. 

Joy's conclusion is curious: “The only realistic alternative I see is relinquishment: to limit development of the technologies that are too dangerous, by limiting our pursuit of certain kinds of knowledge.” It would be a head-scratcher on its own, given that Joy spends much of the article discussing his path from literate three-year-old to modern day guru of machine design, a path that is hallmarked at every turn by curiousity and the desire to answer questions and to seek solutions to problems. It is wholly unsurprising that Joy found Star Trek (the original series) to be inspiring: he came from a modest background was insatiably curious, and had a problem-solving mind; Joy spent a lot of time at the library and watching network television: this is exactly the audience for whom Rodenberry wrote his humanitarian tales. 

What makes Joy's conclusion even more baffling is that it is essentially Theodore Kaczynski's underlying argument in "Industrial Society and Its Future," the so-called manifesto printed by The Washington Post in 1995. Kaczynski believed that this particular knowledge and research was dangerous to the future of the human race, and he wrote many letters to those few academics and researchers who were propelling the science into new frontiers, pleading with them to stop.

Joy knew of Kaczynski, invokes him early on in his essay, and claims "I am no apologist for Kaczynski." One assumes that Joy is attempting to separate the man's violence from his ideas, here, and bully on Joy for that. But one wonders exactly what level of social and academic control is envisioned by someone who spent his whole life researching, exploring, and creating, all with only the goal of solving problems.

Yes, research is dangerous, and no, we don't know what we're doing ("that's why they call it research," as Einstein pointed out).  I don't agree with Kurzweil et al as to the utopian vision of intelligent machines, let alone this blissed-out harmonious interwoven reality granted to humans by blending with spiritual machines. I'm a Quaker; I like my machines few and far between, my reliance on them as light as possible, and (unlike the rest of my life)for them to be simple, long-lasting, and easily repaired. 

I also agree it would be the saddest state of human affairs to begin "limiting our pursuit of certain kinds of knowledge." If we cannot dream of the stars, what is the point?

Even robots dream of electric sheep. 

The Composite Incompossible

This was a lovely collaboration last year, and I'm delighted to see it published.

https://www.performancephilosophy.org/journal/article/view/354

Scholars

Writing that shuts out the world is as good as dead.

To be a scholar, we must seek the truth, and share it. 

The point is to change the world.

Editing

Write with fire. Edit with ice.

Habermas, the UAE thing, and the utility of culture jamming.

Habermas' refusal is spot on. Awards are perfect times for "refusal to participate" protests. But we ought not take refusal as a hard and fast rule. Buy Nothing Day is a piece of culture jamming that works by refusal. Culture jamming also weaponizes participation, as in applying for grants or conference presentations or publication in journals that would likely work to different aims of their governing bodies.

When Habermas refused the UAE prize, he increased awareness of the human rights issues far beyond the scope of what the prize money would have been able to do. The Utilitarian approves. Using -- and refusing -- awards to affect the conversation around issues is important, and one ideally suited to Utilitarian analysis. In the case of grants by libertarian groups, many scholars opt not to apply, seeking not to align themselves with groups who seem to favor market forces and capital over improving the common welfare. But I argue this is short-sighted. Scholars ought seek these awards out with vigor, putting the funding to its best possible use. Refusal to be considered for these funds won't stop the Koch brothers or other neoliberal groups from administering the funds. We, as ethicists, should seek to be considered for two main reasons.

The first is that the funds are going to be awarded. If candidates limit themselves only to those of one viewpoint, that viewpoint is amplified, taking up more of the stage than is reflective of its place in the discourse.

Secondly, we ought to be mindful of how we dismiss the concerns of those with whom we disagree. By finding the starting point of what we both value -- despite differences in how we express or achieve that value -- we keep our own analysis relevant and more substantial. The conversation overall is richer.

Utilitarian scholars in particular have an obligation to seek out and pursue funding opportunities, conference participation, and journal publication which they might initially reject as less than like-minded. If the governors reject our scholarship, let them do it openly, looking at the best we have to offer, that which comes from a place of utility's mandate to value us all equally and to seek the best outcomes for everyone, even those with whom we disagree.

We are all made better for it.

Afterglow

 The last presentation is over and we mill out the doors into the twilight. The cement stairs reflect heat up through the soles of our shoes as we descend toward the street. The Uber back to the hotel is silent, our briefcases askew on our laps, conference program sticking out at an edge and I don't care.

Back at the hotel I wave as I get out of the elevator. You nod, a weary lift-and-release as you lean against the glass back of the elevator car, the plants of the lobby visible behind you like supporters on a coat of arms. The doors seem tired as the close you in.

I fumble with the key card three times before I realize I'm putting it into the door backwards, right it and lay the briefcase on the luggage stand, kick my Keds off leaving one, then the other before the door swings home behind me. The cargo pants and socks come off in one motion and the blouse follows, dropped to the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs heading to the bathroom where I start the tap for a hot bath.

I check my phone for the first time since breakfast: well wishes from Back Home friends, a question about a housesitting gig that happens next week, a random text from a forgotten flame; messages from a foreign land in a language I used to know but don't remember. I'm so full of ideas and conversations that words have lost their meaning. The phone battery light glows red and I drop it on the charging stand as I pick up epsom salt and test the water temperature, then climb in, letting the water coax the muscles of my back to uncringe. 

 

Only music makes sense now.

What an excellent day.

Lunch Lacuna

The presentation was a smashing success. You struggled not to crack an expression when I sent you a private message of "BINGO!" when a participant said "more of a comment than a Question" and followed it with "onto-relational." (What can I say? I know our audience.)

The post-panel discussion was rich with "let's do it again, only next time we can. . . ." possibilities. We love what we do and we're good at it. I stopped by the bathroom (down the hall and to the left) to swap out my skirt and flats for cargos and Keds, and now we're sitting at one of the many round tables, feet parked in chairs, sipping hot tea. The chicken Caesar salad was remarkably good, though I don't remember eating it.

A satisfied quiet is all around, punctuated with random bursts of conversation as we process, individually but together, all that we have discussed since breakfast. We're saturated, and the conversational blurts are release valves. This is creativity, and the sparks find other sparks. Energy thrums a low-key current throughout the room.

The next panel is on Thoreau and Self-reliance and we're all wondering just how sassy I'm about to be, but that's an hour from now. You point to ethicists' D&D pickup game forming over in the corner; they've just shouted a request for a thief-mage-cleric-thing or possibly a bard (they have plenty of fighters, but more are always welcome, they add raucously). It looks like great fun, but I shake my head, too spent from the presentation to say "no, thanks," and I realize I'm tired. The drop is coming -- I can feel it at the edges -- but for now it's just a contentment, a moment of stillness between swimming in Deep Thought. A feeling of being home.

SAAP 2021

I miss having conferences in person. There's something special about leaving your life behind and gathering in a NotHere space with like-minded companions, drinking tea or coffee, wandering around having pickup conversations you couldn't imagine, letting someone else be in charge of the mundane details while Big Ideas fill the air.

Even so, I'm glad to be part of the conversation that's happening this weekend at SAAP. My panel presentation tomorrow is on the role of the public library in democracy (of course), and I really am looking forward to it. The ramp up to present has a rhythm to it that got established in the BeforeTimes and holds me now: go over the details and notecards the evening before; texting last-minute updates and edits; a long bath; tea and woolgathering and an early bedtime, though I'm rarely able to sleep until after midnight. Then in the morning, french toast and orange juice and coffee from room service while I go over the note cards One Very Last Time before putting on Conference Clothes and packing up the briefcase.

Tomorrow there's no briefcase required, since I'll be zooming from my living room; I have cinnamon rolls at the ready because I'm at home and not in a hotel; the notes and one-sheets and program schedule are already on the footlocker that I use as a coffee table.

I would love to have a few of you with me tonight, or at breakfast in the morning, standing around with our plastic-sleeved name tags swaying from logo-emblazoned lanyards as we mill about in front of the tables laden with discarded cups, the light glinting just so off the coffee service as we wonder which room we are supposed to be in and how far it is from the bathroom. (We're in Room A.)

Conferences are about sharing space with people sharing ideas. It's a convivial event that is magical, and I miss it.

Pythagoras was a Philosopher

Been thinking about math again today, when I've had the spare time to think. It's being one of those weeks and I don't think I'll be shed of it until Tuesday next. At least the weather is gorgeous.

Double Take

Think of all the cases of Coronavirus that the US had up to Thanksgiving. That's a lot of cases, roughly 12.5 million. 

Since Thanksgiving, we've doubled it.

Callous disregard for the harm we cause others is the real virus.

It's not censorship; it's peer review.

Jen Foster does research on slurs. "I am interested, first, in the meanings of slurs, as they are understood by the people who actually use them; second, in the relationship that those meanings bear to the meanings of so-called 'neutral counterpart' terms; and third, in the ways that the close –– but, crucially, imperfect and imprecise –– relationship between slurs and so-called 'neutral counterparts' helps to perpetuate ideologies of ordinary bigotry by facilitating a systematic practice of exception-making."


When Foster waded into the fray to call out Kathleen Stock's hostile and mean-spirited response to Christa Peterson's illumination of Stock's long history of undeniably transphobic comments, which was written in response to an open letter saying bigotry should not be overlooked in academia and has no place in the classroom, Foster put a target on herself, and she did so knowingly. She did it from a point of expertise and out of a sense of ethical mandate: the use of name-calling by Stock wasn't merely a simple disagreement expressed immaturely; it was an attempt to delegitimize and silence any attempt to characterize Stock as a bigot, an attack Stock waged by use of slurs. Stock came for Peterson, but quickly expanded her scope to include anyone who disagreed with her, including the entire body of signatories to the open letter saying awarding Stock an OBE entrenched academia's stance of transphobia as permissible. Scholars who signed the letter (full disclosure: I signed it) were called "morons" by Stock, incapable of basic analysis: "It's not rocket science."

Stock then went full eighth-grade-mode and decided to get Philosophy heavyweights to sign an open letter of her own, a missive about "Academic Freedom," in which she shifted the framework entirely (no one was trying to limit Stock's freedom to be a bigot; in fact it was the award and presumably Parliament who were being admonished in the original letter penned by Liam Kofi Bright, Leverhulme scholar). No one said anything about freedom at all except Stock, but having done so, notable bullies of philosophy Brian Leiter and (whatshisname, I seem to have a block) eagerly jumped in to lambaste Peterson and then Foster (and probably many others, I limit my time on Twitter and also I was practicing Twiddles).

Derision is not discourse.

When Foster says the tenor of Stock et al's response is harmful to academia generally and to Philosophy specifically, she knows what she's talking about. She's delivering a peer-review level critique. Likewise, Peterson's article is coming from an area of expertise: she knows inflammatory, exclusionary rhetoric when she hears it. The open letter from Bright, signed by others, was a reasoned warning to all of academia that we have a moral mandate not to ignore the statements of educators that are exclusionary and harmful. Saying so in a formalized, if informal, fashion is the hallmark of academic freedom and demonstrates the adherence to a moral mandate of inclusiveness and solidarity. No one is saying Stock (or Leiter or whomever) can't be a bigot. Bright says that bigotry shouldn't be dismissed. Many in the discipline agree, and it's not an extreme position.

Stock isn't rallying around the opposite view, which would be to say bigotry shouldn't matter; rather she's saying she isn't a bigot and never has been, and that anyone who claims to see bigotry in her statements is analytically challenged professionally and infantile personally.

Stock is being a bully. Leiter and other bullies are cheering her on, wanting to normalize bullying. Don't let them.

Accountability is not defamation.

Changing the conversation to cliquish insults demeans Stock and all who follow her lead. The language we use matters, and to use it as a weapon is undisciplined and juvenile, but worse-- it erodes intelligent debate. Stock, Leiter, and ImmanentlyForgettable have shown the worst side of themselves and are making a mockery of the discipline. Any scholar who doesn't speak out against this is now dangerously close to being complicit, to wade into that area Foster knows so well where the "relationship between slurs and so-called 'neutral counterparts' helps to perpetuate ideologies of ordinary bigotry by facilitating a systematic practice of exception-making."

Bright, Peterson and Foster's commentary on Stock comes at an important time. When dignitaries weaponize ire into personal attacks of those who shine a spotlight on bigotry, they lose the moral high ground and cede the field of rigorous debate. We have a moral mandate as educators, as philosophers, and as decent human beings to speak up. To remain silent 'neutral counterparts' is to grant implicit consent for vilification.

Stock has better credentials than Trump, but not much better manners. Like Trump, she is wrong to cry censorship when her professional colleagues call out her bigotry. Like Trump, she has responded to well-reasoned calls for accountability by rounding up supporters and launching personal attacks in the name of threats against freedom. Like Trump, she is whipping up a frenzy of polarization to distract from the underlying issue: bigotry has no legitimate space in education and in Philosophy and it should not be ignored. Saying her words matter is not censorship; it's peer review.