In this book Robert Piercey asks how it is possible to do philosophy by studying the thinkers of the past. He develops his answer through readings of Martin Heidegger, Richard Rorty, Paul Ricoeur, Alasdair MacIntyre and other historically-minded philosophers. Piercey shows that what is distinctive about these figures is a concern with philosophical pictures - extremely general conceptions of what the world is like - rather than specific theories. He offers a comprehensive and illuminating exploration of the way in which (...) these thinkers use narrative to evaluate and criticise these pictures. The result is a powerful and original account of how philosophers use the past. (shrink)

Some philosophers claim to "do philosophy historically." They study philosophers of the past not just to discover what they thought, but as a way of advancing their own philosophical agendas. In this paper, I offer an account of what it means to do philosophy historically. First, I examine a number of current views of the matter, and explain why I find them inadequate. Next, I ask what kind of understanding can be gained from a study of history. I do so (...) by drawing on John Herman Randall's discussion of the "genetic method." Finally, I extend Randall's discussion of the genetic method to philosophy, and use it to explain how a study of past philosophy might teach philosophical lessons. I also ask what assumptions we must make about philosophy if we are to learn such lessons, and I argue that these assumptions are plausible. (shrink)

Paul Ricoeur sharply distinguishes his hermeneutics from Heidegger’s ‘ontological’ hermeneutics. An ontological hermeneutics, Ricoeur claims, is bound to be insufficiently critical. Yet this cannot be the whole story, since Ricoeur himself engages in ontological hermeneutics. What really distinguishes Heidegger’s hermeneutics from Ricoeur’s? I seek an answer to this question in the two thinkers’ appropriations of Kant. More specifically, I examine their appropriations of Kant’s view of the productive imagination, as conveyed in the Transcendental Schematism. Heidegger sees the productive imagination as (...) a ‘third basic faculty’ prior to sensibility and understanding. Conceived in this way, the imagination is so primordial that it must be characterized in a highly abstract way. Ricoeur sees this move as dangerous, and tries to avoid it by reinterpreting the imagination as a faculty that requires the mediation of concrete symbols. In doing so, he hopes to preserve Kant’s insights while leaving room for critique. (shrink)

While it is clear that the Gadamer–Habermas debate has had a major influence on Paul Ricoeur, his commentators have had little to say about the nature of this influence. I try to remedy this silence by showing that Ricoeur''s account of tradition is a direct response to the Gadamer–Habermas debate. First, I briefly explain the debate''s importance and describe Ricoeur''s reaction to it. Next, I show how his discussion of tradition in Time and Narrative steers a middle course between Gadamerian (...) hermeneutics and Habermasian Ideologiekritik. Finally, I raise some critical questions about the adequacy of Ricoeur''s middle course. Specifically, I argue that it rests on an implausible distinction between the form and the content of tradition. (shrink)

It is now widely accepted that philosophers should be historically self-conscious. But what does this mean in practice? How does historical consciousness change the way we philosophize? To answer this question, I examine two philosophers who put historical consciousness at the heart of their projects: Richard Rorty and Paul Ricoeur. Rorty and Ricoeur both argue that historical consciousness leads us to see philosophy as fragmented. It leads us to view our thinking from multiple perspectives at once, perspectives that are often (...) in considerable tension. But Rorty and Ricoeur reach radically different conclusions about how we should respond to this fragmentation. Their disagreement, I argue, is closely connected to their views of identity. Rorty and Ricoeur have different understandings of what it means for something to be unified, and thus different ideas about what it would take for our perspectives on ourselves to be brought together. My argument for this claim has four parts. First, I try to identify the problems that historical consciousness raises for philosophy, and explain why the most common response to them is unsatisfactory. Second, I discuss Rorty's claim that historical consciousness ought to make us ironists about our philosophical views, and to abandon truth as a goal of inquiry. Third, I contrast Rorty's position with Ricoeur's. Ricoeur argues that we can be historically self-aware and still see philosophy as a rational enterprise that aims at truth. I argue that Ricoeur's optimism on this point is rooted in his view of identity, and specifically in his distinction between idem- and ipse-identity. Finally, I ask what all of this shows about the options available to historically minded philosophers today. (shrink)

This paper describes and evaluates two different ways of doing philosophy: a “reflexive” approach that sees metaphilosophical inquiry as fundamental, and a “nonreflexive” approach that sees metaphilosophy as dispensable. It examines arguments that have been advanced for these approaches by Gilbert Ryle, Jerry Fodor, and Richard Rorty, and claims that none of these arguments are convincing. Finally, the paper draws on Alasdair MacIntyre’s work to propose a different way of choosing between the approaches, one that asks which approach is more (...) successful at making its appeal intelligible to the other. From this perspective, the reflexive approach appears to have an important advantage over its rival. (shrink)

_ Source: _Page Count 21 This essay asks whether a pragmatist philosophy of history can make sense of the notion of historical facts. It is tempting to think it cannot, since pragmatists insist, as James puts it, that the trail of the human serpent is over everything. Facts, by contrast, are typically thought of as something untouched by the human serpent, something impervious to what we think and do. I argue, however, that there is a way of understanding facts that (...) is perfectly at home in pragmatist philosophy of history. Drawing on work by Robert Brandom, I propose that facts be interpreted inferentially. On this view, to call something a fact, or to say that the facts make my beliefs true, is simply a shorthand way of saying that a particular sort of relationship exists among certain sentences. I further show that this inferential understanding of facts is fully compatible with the distinctive features of historical inquiry. In particular, it is compatible with history’s irreducibly narrative character, and with the way different narratives can reveal radically different facts. Finally, I use this account of historical facts to respond to a classic criticism of pragmatism: the charge that pragmatism is _narcissistic_. I argue that pragmatism is narcissistic in only the minimal sense that it cannot countenance theory-neutral givens. But pragmatists can happily grant that there is more to truth than consensus, and that our claims are answerable to facts that everyone can get wrong. (shrink)

Martin Heidegger and Alasdair MacIntyre both claim that universities perform important philosophical functions. This essay reconstructs Heidegger’s and MacIntyre’s views of the university and argues that they have a common source, which I call hermeneutics without historicism. Heidegger and MacIntyre are hermeneutical philosophers: philosophers who are sensitive to the ways in which thought is mediated by interpretation and conditioned by history and culture. But both of them reject the relativistic historicism sometimes associated with a hermeneutical approach to philosophy. This desire (...) to have it both ways leads Heidegger and MacIntyre to attach tremendous importance to activities that take place in universities but nowhere else. The essay also asks whether MacIntyre’s defenders should be troubled by the similarities between his account of the function of the university and Heidegger’s. I argue that they should not, because, while Heidegger’s account of the university has obvious moral and polit.. (shrink)

It is often argued that a study of the history of philosophy is not itself philosophical. Philosophy, it is claimed, is an active, productive enterprise, whereas history is taken to be imitative and therefore passive. My aim in this paper is to argue against this view of the history of philosophy. First, I describe a famous criticism of historians of philosophy—Kant’s critique of the “spirit of imitation.” I claim that the source of this criticism is the received view of mimesis. (...) Since the received view has been widely discredited, I propose a different one—one that sees imitation not as passive but as active. Finally, I suggest that adopting this new view of mimesis demands that we rethink what it means for a history of philosophy to be true. And I propose that the philosophical hermeneutics of Hans-Georg Gadamer might help us to do so. (shrink)

This article asks what Gadamerian hermeneutics can contribute to recent debates about how philosophy is related to its history. First, I explain how Gadamer understands this relation, paying particular attention to his debts to Heidegger and to the role of tradition in the human sciences. Next, I argue that Gadamer’s view raises serious difficulties—difficulties connected with what he calls historicalconsciousness. Finally, I try to respond to these difficulties by distinguishing two different ways of understanding what historians of philosophy do. While (...) my response is in some tension with what Gadamer explicitly says about the history of philosophy, it is, I argue, consistent with the spirit of his work. (shrink)

Reading for enjoyment is a mysterious activity. This article surveys several paradoxes displayed by this activity, paying particular attention to a handful of paradoxes connected with subjectivity. It argues that responding to these paradoxes is a distinctively philosophical task, one that cannot be farmed out to other disciplines. Some suggestions are made about how philosophers can begin tackling these problems, with a special focus on the phenomenology of Wolfgang Iser. While not offering a developed theory of reading, the paper draws (...) attention to the problem of reading with the goal of understanding the problem. (shrink)

Like Husserl and Heidegger, Ricoeur offers a powerful and original account of what the “world” is and how it conditions our thinking. But it is difficult to recognize Ricoeur’s contributions unless we view them in relation to another aspect of his work: his post-Hegelian Kantianism. Ricoeur tries to steer a middle course between Kant’s and Hegel’s views on this topic. He thinks the idea of the world plays a crucial role in regulating experience, but he tries to understand this idea (...) in a way that is concrete without being totalizing. Ricoeur’s theory of narrative does exactly this. It describes how narratives open up worlds for their readers:sets of specific existential possibilities that may be incorporated into readers’ lives. When Ricoeur’s account of narrative is viewed in relation to Kant and Hegel, itsheds valuable new light on many aspects of his work. (shrink)

Lost Souls is a genealogy of the current state of philosophy. It argues that Western thought has long been guided by a view of reality developed by Plato and decisively transformed by Descartes. But this view has been “empirically refuted”, and its collapse has led to considerable confusion in contemporary philosophy and culture. According to Weissman, the allegory of the divided line in Plato’s Republic has furnished Western philosophers with their preferred way of understanding mind’s relation to world. The line (...) distinguishes several orders of intelligibility. Transcendent forms, particularly the Good, are the source of being, intelligibility, and value; mathematical objects and physical things are imperfect copies of them. Disseminated by Proclus and Augustine, this model guided all branches of philosophy for twelve centuries. But at the start of the modern period, Descartes transformed the divided line by privatizing it—that is, he turned its segments into modes of the cogito. The role of forms was taken over by mind’s knowledge of itself; mathematical ideas formed a bridge to physical things. Modern philosophy was thus founded upon a “self-valorizing ego”. The self-conscious individual became the “ground, final cause, or measure” of all things. Weissman realizes that his reading contradicts the letter of Descartes’s texts. Accordingly, he distinguishes “richer” and “leaner” Cartesian theories, of which the former sees God as the source of being and intelligibility, while the latter “acknowledges only the cogito”. He argues that the leaner theory has been tacitly accepted by nearly all philosophers since Descartes: by Kant, who “is very close to saying that the mind is the arbiter of all that is” ; by “romantic Kantians” such as Nietzsche and Heidegger; and by “analytic Kantians” such as Carnap and Quine. Descartes’s leaner theory is not an isolated philosophical position but a comprehensive picture of reality. (shrink)

In two of their major works, Hegel and Kierkegaard seek philosophical instruction in the very same example: that of trying to learn to swim before one has entered the water. But they reach diametrically opposed conclusions about what this example shows. It might seem troubling that an example can teach two incompatible lessons. I argue that we will be troubled only if we make an implausible assumption about examples: that the lessons they teach are theory-neutral facts equally available to all. (...) Drawing on work by Onora O’Neill, I argue against this assumption. I try to show that philosophical examples can be quite mysterious: both free and rule-governed, both determinate and indeterminate—or, better, determinately indeterminate. In this respect, they may be fruitfully compared to Kantian judgments of taste. (shrink)

_ Source: _Page Count 21 This essay asks whether a pragmatist philosophy of history can make sense of the notion of historical facts. It is tempting to think it cannot, since pragmatists insist, as James puts it, that the trail of the human serpent is over everything. Facts, by contrast, are typically thought of as something untouched by the human serpent, something impervious to what we think and do. I argue, however, that there is a way of understanding facts that (...) is perfectly at home in pragmatist philosophy of history. Drawing on work by Robert Brandom, I propose that facts be interpreted inferentially. On this view, to call something a fact, or to say that the facts make my beliefs true, is simply a shorthand way of saying that a particular sort of relationship exists among certain sentences. I further show that this inferential understanding of facts is fully compatible with the distinctive features of historical inquiry. In particular, it is compatible with history’s irreducibly narrative character, and with the way different narratives can reveal radically different facts. Finally, I use this account of historical facts to respond to a classic criticism of pragmatism: the charge that pragmatism is _narcissistic_. I argue that pragmatism is narcissistic in only the minimal sense that it cannot countenance theory-neutral givens. But pragmatists can happily grant that there is more to truth than consensus, and that our claims are answerable to facts that everyone can get wrong. (shrink)

One of the core principles of Paul Ricoeur’s hermeneutics is that interpretation culminates in application, or appropriation. But what exactly is an appropriation, and what makes some appropriations better than others? I try to shed light on these difficult matters by examining Ricoeur’s own appropriation of Alasdair MacIntyre’s notion of the narrative unity of a life, and by contrasting it with Richard Rorty’s appropriation of the same notion. I argue that Ricoeur’s appropriation is more successful than Rorty’s, and that the (...) best explanation of its success is that it respects a distinctive norm that governs the activity of appropriation. I conclude by describing this norm, which I call the principle of ultimate compatibility. (shrink)