Order Description
Avocado or Artichoke

The assigned readings for this week include several cultural and philosophical views on the self. These approaches are quite different, but can generally be categorized according to how they respond to a central question: do human beings have a fixed/essential nature? Some argue that we do, and that this is evident in the characteristics that have been asserted to distinguish us from other living beings, such as reason, language, morality, and toolmaking. However, we now observe that some animals seem to share these characteristics. Furthermore, computers are able to engage in rational activities as well.

Nevertheless, there are some philosophers who argue that human beings have a fixed, essential nature that makes us unique. This general approach will be characterized as the avocado view of human nature. The essential part of human beings, the part that makes us more like other human beings than like animals, is the avocado seed, and the flesh and outer skin are simply incidental. Both the Judeo-Christian and Islamic religious traditions set forth a version of the self that is consistent with the avocado view, as do Greek rationalism and modernist/Enlightenment western philosophy. The belief in a soul and the privileging of reason over emotion is generally associated with the avocado view. While this view is appealing, it also admits of some problematic aspects, one of the most serious of which is the association of the avocado’s “core,” i.e. reason, with masculinity, and of emotions and the body with femininity.

On the other hand, some disagree that human beings have an essential nature. Upbringing, genetics, culture, particular experiences, and even sheer luck determine who we are more than an essential aspect of our nature such as reason or the soul. While these may be understood as additional characteristics that are part of what makes one human being different from another under the avocado view, in the artichoke view there are no essential human characteristics—merely a series of layers.

Since our nature is not fixed, we are better thought of as works in progress than as unique beings with special human characteristics we all share. This is what may be called the Artichoke View of human nature. We all have multiple layers of the self, but these layers are not based on anything uniquely human. This is the view that is generally consistent with a postmodern view of the self, as we will see when we examine the existentialism of Jean Paul Sartre. Before we get to the protean view of the self, however, it may be helpful to look a little more closely at a philosophical approach that is a hybrid of Judeo-Christianity and Greek rationalism by discussing the work of St. Augustine.

Reason and the Soul

St. Augustine’s Theology and Greek Rationalism

We spent some time last week engaged in a close reading of a Platonic dialogue, and so we’ve already been introduced to the idea that the self is the soul. While we saw that there is some debate as to whether Plato really intended the interpretation of his dialogues as an argument in favor of a dualistic reality, this view has nevertheless greatly influenced western metaphysics. In a dualistic account of reality, the world is divided up into two realms. The dualistic account of Platonism is summarized in this chart:

Being

Becoming

Unchanging

Transient

Immortal/Divine

Mortal

Culture

Nature

Soul/Mind/Intelligible World

Body/Sensible World

Regardless of which approach to Plato you find most compelling, you can probably see where Socratic wisdom fits in here: Human beings can know all kinds of things about the material world, but our ability to access the realm of the eternal is limited. Therefore, our souls draw us toward some of the big questions we looked at last week: the nature of justice, love, virtue, beauty, goodness, and so on. In the Phaedo, Socrates seems convinced by this dualistic approach, and he dies happy because he believes he has lived a good life and will live on in the hearts and minds of those who conversed with him. Yet Plato’s Socrates never actually defines the immortality of the soul and, thus, the nature of the soul remains an open-ended question.

More than 500 years after the death of Plato, Plotinus founded a philosophical movement based on his interpretation of Platonic dualism called Neo-Platonism. Neo-Platonists believed in two distinct realms: the perfect realm of the divine and the imperfect world of material things, including the body. Plotinus and his followers believed that philosophy should be concerned with resisting the allure of the material world and focused on unity with the divine realm of truth and goodness. As we will see, Plotinus’ version of Platonic philosophy had a profound impact on St. Augustine. St. Augustine was drawn to Neo-Platonism, but because he was a man of great faith, he was also concerned that the Greeks and Romans believed in multiple Gods. Still, he thought that Neo-Platonism and Christianity were made for each other, and so his philosophy was really an attempt to merge the Platonic belief in dualism and the emphasis on reason with the Christian belief system, an approach known as syncretism.

In an approach that is consistent with the avocado view of a fixed human nature, Augustine attributes all of his intellectual gifts to God, insofar as certain skills, such as oration, cannot be taught but are rather innate. Augustine was lucky enough to receive an education, but recognized that satiating his intellectual hunger left a spiritual void that he unsuccessfully tried to fill with bodily pleasures in his youth.

Through study and spiritual reflection, Augustine comes to conclude that the ability to reason is a distinct part of human nature, but it is not all-powerful. Rather, human beings have to discipline themselves to be rational rather than led by desire and/or blind faith. In other words, Augustine agrees that the ability to think and speak rationally is an essential part of human nature. However, we can easily allow our desires for bodily pleasure to encourage us to act irrationally. We can also trick ourselves into thinking that reason is all we need, and that faith is unnecessary. Thus, we have to be disciplined enough to control our desires while also recognizing that as human beings (not God), our reason can only take us so far in terms of knowing ourselves, the divine, and the world around us.

Still, Augustine does not completely shun all learning, particularly since reason can lead us to a greater expression and understanding of faith. As we will see next week, his emphasis on dualism and the role of reason would come to influence another famous Western philosopher: Rene Descartes.

Philosophy and Ultimate Reality

Mythos and Logos

There are two basic approaches to explaining reality: mythos (myths/stories) and logos (reason-based accounts). Our contemporary tendency is to dismiss mythical accounts in favor of more scientific, evidence-based accounts (logoi) and, yet, these accounts are also open to questioning and reflection.

Consider the question of how the universe began, for example. The Big Bang is a scientific theory of how the universe was set in motion, and while there are some compelling arguments in favor of this theory, it does not explain what set the “bang” in motion in the first place. This is where myths come in: these stories speak to the aspects of human existence and the universe that cannot be explained rationally. For instance, biology is a logos that might help us to develop practical approaches to addressing physical ailments, but knowing facts about the human body such as which conditions can be treated with antibiotics and which cannot does not tell us much about how to live a good and happy life.

Earlier cultures understood mythos and logos to work in concert to help people understand themselves and the world around them, in that myths sometimes reveal more about us and the universe than so-called “true” accounts. Consider the differences between the Big Bang and the stories of the Bible. The Big Bang Theory might be more logically sound, but it also does not really tell us anything about why the universe came into being, nor does it explain our role in the universe. Myths may or may not be perfectly accurate accounts of what happened, but they are perhaps more meaningful and true accounts of human beings and the world we live in than a logical proof could ever be.

Theology vs. Philosophy

We undoubtedly know what religion itself is. Whether we have beliefs consistent with Christianity, agnosticism, Buddhism, atheism, or some other belief system, we have some idea about what people generally label “God,” and we have some idea (however vague) of what we think about that. For some people, religion is a structural and motivating social force in their lives. We normally think of these people as practitioners of a religion. For others, religion may be a much more loose set of general beliefs about the divine and the purpose of human life. Note that either of these extremes could potentially apply to both those who believe in the divine as well as those who do not. In other words, there are many very serious, practicing atheists, and there are people who have general ideas about God, but who are not too certain about any of them. Theology is the term that is generally used to describe religious beliefs based on faith. While theology can involve some room for dialogue and debate about the specifics of these beliefs, theology tends to take certain beliefs (such as the belief in God) for granted as matters of faith.

Thus, for our purposes, religion can be understood as a collection of doctrines and beliefs about God. We know that these systems of belief take a number of different forms that are both remarkably similar and have key differences. What you may be starting to see is that one of the central tasks in philosophic investigation is to hold up, examine, and attempt to understand various systems of thought. Philosophers like to take a set of beliefs and ideas and see how they relate to one another and what sort of outcome they produce in action. While religions are systems of belief that rely on religious doctrine and faith, they also have an internal structure and logic that is often extremely complex and interesting—certainly something worth both our study and our respect, regardless of our individual beliefs.

Philosophy, on the other hand, may admit that some beliefs are matters of faith, but that faith does not stop us from questioning our beliefs. The study of the philosophy of various religions is thus different from the practice of those religions. We can explore the world’s religions and seek to understand them without actually becoming believing members of them. In fact, in the past, many religions suggested their practitioners avoid other religions out of fear or lack of understanding. This sort of attitude has been responsible for many historical and contemporary atrocities with which you are likely familiar. One of the byproducts of a more general study of the world’s religions may be a lessening of this fear and emphasis on the common ground that most religions share. This idea is consistent with the idea of religious pluralism, or the belief that the true nature of God does not rest within any one religion in particular.

Philosophy and Faith

In addition to the differences between theology and philosophy, it is also important to recognize how philosophy can be very different from other disciplines. Like many other courses you may take in college, philosophy requires critical thinking (including providing authoritative reasons for your beliefs), yet it is also an open-ended pursuit that often ends in more questions than answers. That said, these two aspects are not unrelated, in that (1) one of the questions philosophy asks is what constitutes an “authority” (in fact, there is even a fallacy that applies when an argument lacks authority) and (2) it recognizes the difference between faith and reason (as we will discuss further in the coming weeks). Thus, if you are making a political argument or trying to persuade someone of a different faith, you would likely not use the Bible or other sacred text as an authority. This does not mean that such texts do not have philosophical relevance. In fact, there is a sub-sect of metaphysics usually referred to as the philosophy of religion that looks into these very questions. However, religious texts are seen by some as more akin to a collection of stories than to a reason-based argument, and do not present cohesive arguments, theories, or rules.

Thus, this course is perhaps best viewed as an opportunity to reflect upon the nature of faith and how we should act rather than as a threat to your beliefs. The bottom line is that philosophy encourages us to think about the source of our beliefs, including religious belief, and to consider whether the reasons one cites for a given position would be persuasive to someone with different beliefs. Consider the 19-century Danish existentialist Soren Kierkegaard, for example. He wrote reason-based theoretical texts and, yet, also recognized that reason could only take us so far towards an understanding of ourselves and God; the rest is up to faith. Like Socrates, he did not give up on reason just because it has its limits. Socrates spent his life exposing logical inconsistencies and fallacious reasoning and, yet, had great faith that despite the fact there was much that he did not know that he was living a good life and would die a good death.

Feminism and Metaphysics

We began our discussion of metaphysics with the idea that it is the general inquiry into what is, and looked at some dualistic accounts of reality. However, many philosophers disagree that this kind of philosophical inquiry can be so easily defined. Some philosophers also take issue with the way in which reality is understood in terms of dualistic opposites.

In your readings this week, you were introduced to some of the critiques of traditional metaphysics and accounts of human nature as involving some sexist and racist assumptions. Now that you have a better understanding of metaphysical dualism and the idea of the avocado self, let’s explore some of these problematic assumptions. We’ll have a more sustained discussion of feminism and race theory in Week 4, but for now a brief introduction to feminist theory will help us understand some of the critiques discussed in your readings.

Feminism is one of the fastest growing disciplines within the humanities. While there are many ways of addressing the question of sexual difference, much of contemporary feminism is concerned not only with uncovering immediate social, linguistic, and political realities which exclude, even oppress, women, but also with inquiring into the history and traditions that perpetuate such inequalities. Despite their differences, feminists generally agree that it is necessary to inquire into the ways in which women are both practically and theoretically excluded. Still, many feminists who may identify as “third wave” feminists think that some of these investigations are gravely misguided, insofar as they suppose that we can simply examine the tradition and correct sexist mistakes within it.

For example, if women were historically excluded from the class of rational beings by virtue of the association of femininity with the right-hand side of the metaphysical dualism chart (i.e., with nature, the sensible world, and the body), one proposed solution might be to say that women are in fact just as rational as men, and many feminist theories have done just that. However, such an attitude is based upon the idea that human beings have a fixed essence that is primarily defined by the capacity to reason and devalues emotion, the body, and the natural world in a way that may turn out to be problematic both for both male and female human beings.

Consider the dualism of nature and culture, for example. We tend to differentiate between the realm of animals, plants, the elements, etc., and the human world of ethics, technology, politics, the economy, etc., on the basis that this latter realm is driven by reason and other aspects of human nature that are like God. Yet human beings are also of nature; unlike tables and chairs, human beings are born, not made. Thus, nature seems to be the ground that enables the very distinction between the human and non-human world and, therefore, does not fit neatly into the dualism that would enable human beings to consider ourselves as superior to other life forms.

Existentialism—An Overview

While the reason-based arguments for God may provide some persuasive reasons for believing in a divine creator, they all fail to provide any logical basis for a belief in the version of God associated with any particular religion. Thus, the idea of God set forth in natural theology simply answers the question of what caused the world to come into being; it does not provide any concrete guidance for how we should live our lives. This is in part why Friedrich Nietzsche has a “madman” declare God to be dead in his 19th-century book Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

The “God is Dead” proclamation can be understood as saying that in a world that increasingly emphasizes rational proofs and scientific evidence over faith, God no longer plays a useful or major part in our lives. For example, whereas the ancient Greeks attributed natural phenomenon like the weather to divine forces, we now have meteorology to explain thunderstorms and the seasons. If God no longer serves as the omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good creator of human beings, this also calls the idea that human beings have a fixed essence defined by God (i.e, the avocado view of the self) into question. This is where existentialism comes in.

The avocado view of Greek rationalism, modern philosophy, and some major monotheistic world religions is based upon the idea that human nature is characterized by a fixed essence such as reason. One way of expressing this view is to say that our essence determines our existence. On the other hand, existentialists like Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir argue that existence determines essence. In other words, human beings create their essence through their actions. This freedom of self-creation is not wholly unambiguous, however, because human beings are also embodied/situated, intersubjective, historical beings.

This corporeal, historical, and cultural context means that we are both free and not free at the same time. In other words, our ability to determine our essence through our existence is ambiguous. For example, I may be free to be a philosophy professor, a parent, and/or a yoga instructor, but I cannot be the King of France in the 17th century or a cat because of the specific temporal and physical situation in which I find myself. This ambiguity causes humans to experience their freedom with a kind of anguish/anxiety. Freedom is both absolute and limited by the freedom of others. Furthermore, humans are both self-determining (like God) and determined by forces beyond their control (other people, factual realities, etc.).

Sartre and Beauvoir explain this ambiguity in terms of a human being as both a being-in-itself (insofar as we find ourselves and a body and a world over which we do not have complete control) and a being-for-itself (insofar as we are conscious). A Being in-itself is an object that is not free and cannot determine its essence, like a cup or a fruitfly. Being for-itself is free and self-determining, like our idea of how God might be if such a being exists.

While human consciousness is largely being for-itself, our facticity limits our freedom and, thus, our ability to be self-determining. Other people also limit our ability to be completely self-defining. For instance, I may think I have great athletic prowess, but if I try out for the NBA and am laughed off of the court by the coaches and players, I am not going to be able to sustain my view of myself as an NBA superstar. In short, facticity is the self as perceived by the world, along with my own self-perception as informed by my engagement with other people’s view of me. It is contrasted with transcendence, which is the ability of human beings to go beyond our facticity and be somewhat self-creating. In a sense, human life can be thought of as an ongoing exchange of facticity and transcendence.