Reflection 15
PHILOSOPHICAL IDEAS DON’T HAVE TO BE THEORIES
In my last Reflection I suggested that a new kind of discourse is needed for philosophical practice, one that is not focused on theories. In such a discourse, philosophical ideas would not be regarded primarily as theories, in other words, as attempts to state a general truth.
But if the discourse of philosophical practice doesn’t focus on theories that supposedly describe reality, then what can it possibly do? What role can philosophical ideas play, if not to make general statement about the way things really are?
Let us tackle the issue from this direction: What are philosophical discourses for? Why should we bother to philosophize about, say, knowledge or about language or about love?
An obvious answer is: We want to get closer to the nature of things, to appreciate more of our world, to be in touch with reality, to enrich and deepen our understanding.
This seems a reasonable goal. But there is something peculiar about the way in which traditional philosophy tries to achieve this goal: by means of theories about reality. It attempts to ‘capture’ reality with statements. In this sense, a philosophical theory serves as a ‘picture’ made of words, which supposedly corresponds to the way reality is.
This traditional approach may seem natural, but in fact it makes a big assumption: that the way to understand reality is through theories that state the truth about it. This is a legitimate assumption if our aim is to write academic articles. But if we are interested in philosophical practice, if we want philosophy to make a difference to our self-understanding not just in abstract thought but in our everyday life, if we want to be in touch with reality not only through our thinking but through our entire way of being, then the question is: Are we sure that this theory-based kind of understanding is appropriate for us?
But what other, alternative kinds of understanding are there?
Ramakrishna, the great 19th century Indian sage, is quoted as saying:
“Everyone foolishly assumes that his clock alone tells the correct time. Christians claim to possess exclusive truth… Countless varieties of Hindus insist that their sect, no matter how small and insignificant, expresses the ultimate position. Devout Muslims maintain that Koranic revelation supersedes all others. The entire world is being driven insane by this single phrase: ‘My religion alone is true.’… But if any sincere practitioner, within whatever culture or religion, prays and meditates with great devotion and commitment to Truth alone, Your grace will flood his mind and heart, O Mother. His particular sacred tradition will be opened and illuminated. He will reach the goal of spiritual evolution.” (The World’s Wisdom, Philip Novak, HarperCollins 1994, p. 42)
Ramakrishna speaks here about the truth of religions, saying (somewhat like Kierkegaard) that our access to the Real depends on our inner attitude, not on dogma or ritual. But his words are relevant to us, because philosophical practice, too, seeks to get in touch with the real. Paraphrasing Ramakrishna’s words, we may say:
“The world of philosophy is being driven insane by this single phrase: ‘My philosophical theory alone is true.’ But if any sincere philosopher, within whatever tradition or approach, philosophizes with great devotion and commitment to Truth alone, reality will flood his mind and heart. His particular philosophical ideas will be opened and illuminated. He will reach the goal of understanding and wisdom.”
This suggests a radical revolution in our conception of the function of philosophical ideas, at least within the context of philosophical practice. It suggests that the value of our philosophizing depends not on the objective content of our theories, but on our attitude while we philosophize. The important point is not how our ideas mirror reality, but how they enable us to relate to reality. The point is, in other words, how philosophical ideas operate within us: how they ‘speak’ in us and awaken us, how they enrich our states of consciousness, how they break through the walls of our preconceptions, or in short, how they open us to more of reality.
This means that if I acquire a sophisticated theory full of brilliant reasoning, but which remains in my abstract thinking alone, then I am no closer to reality than I had been before. If my life continues to be governed by the same self-centered conceptions and concerns, by the same patterns of thought and emotion, by the same chattering consciousness, then I am certainly not in greater touch with the world. As long as my relationship to reality is limited to theorizing-about, I remain very far from it.
Conversely, an insight or ‘bubble’ can touch me and greatly deepen my appreciation of life, even if its theoretical content is simple and sketchy. It may open new channels of relating to myself and others, arouse in me dormant sensitivities, stir up previously unexpressed aspects of myself and give them voice, turn my attention to perspectives that have been neglected by my automatic thought-patterns, or in short open me to a richer understanding of human reality.
In order for this to happen, I don’t need a sophisticated philosophical theory. A simple flash of an idea is sufficient to greatly influence and edify me. Moreover, I don’t need to accept the idea as a true theory. On the contrary, if I contemplate on it without deciding whether to accept or reject it, it can act in me more powerfully. Because, as odd as it may sound, we can better appreciate the richness of human reality when we are in a state of openness, of indecision, or wonder and awe, of yearning and even confusion, than when we are seized by a particular conviction. The many ‘voices’ of human reality can better speak in us when we are beyond any particular theory. Once we grab a specific theory—or once a specific theory grabs us, our openness tends to shut down; until some new realization shakes it and opens us anew.
I suggest, therefore, that unlike the traditional philosophical discourse which is concerned with what might be called ‘descriptive truth’ (the degree to which a theory or statement accurately describes the facts), for philosophical practice something else is more significant: the degree to which an idea acts in us and opens us to a greater appreciation of human reality.
Some might object here: If we give up philosophy’s aim of descriptive truth, then aren’t we opening the door for subjective preferences, for popular vogues, for arbitrary personal tastes? Without truth, is there any criterion left to distinguish between good and bad philosophizing?
One answer is that we should not give up descriptive truth altogether, only in the specific context of the discourse of philosophical practice. We can still find use for philosophical theories in other contexts.
More importantly, it seems to me simply false that descriptive truth has ever helped to defend philosophy against subjective, personal preferences. Despite philosophy’s ideal of truth, many contradictory theories have always existed side by side throughout history. Thus, if we throw away the aspiration for descriptive truth, the landscape of philosophy will not be any more subjective and pluralistic than it already is anyway. On the contrary, we will finally be reconciled with the obvious fact that no single philosophical theory has ever been proved against all its competitors.
I suggest, then, that as philosophical practitioners we should not be preoccupied with theories, or with whether a given theory is true or false. Our focus should be on ideas as means for developing our relationship to human reality, not on ideas as theories about human reality.
One important benefit of this approach is that differences between philosophical practitioners would no longer be a cause for disagreement and for philosophical battles. On the contrary, differences would be an opportunity for us to enrich one another. We would thus be able to relate to fellow philosophers as companions who, precisely because they differ from us, can join us on a philosophical journey.
