A weird post, but this is an archive of an exchange I had in the comments section of a post on Amod Lele’s blog, Love of All Wisdom, for a discussion of Seth Zuihō Segall’s book, The House We Live In.
First post on “Listening to non-pragmatists” (7 Apr. 2024)
As MacIntyre on ibn Sīnā rightly notes, at least from a theist’s perspective the difference between theists and atheists does not merely concern the existence of one entity separate from the world, it concerns the nature of the entire world. The question of God only seems irrelevant when one has already taken a side on it.
This is a point that is often missed in discussions between theists and non-theists, or even between ‘classical’ and ‘non-classical’ theists. The acceptance of a supernatural order radically shifts one’s worldview – this has its most radical expression in Shinran and Shin Buddhism, where entrusting yourself in Amida Buddha leads to shinjin, an awakening where one realizes the non-dual nature of the world and birth in the Pure Land here and now. A similar view is expressed by Abraham Joshua Heschel:
It is not in a roundabout way, by analogy or inference, that we become aware of the ineffable; we do not think about it in absentia. It is rather sensed as something immediately given by way of an insight that is unending and underivable, logically and psychologically prior to judgment, to the assimilation of subject matter to mental categories; a universal insight into an objective aspect of reality, of which all men are at all times capable; not the froth of ignorance but the climax of thought, indigenous to the climate that prevails at the summit of intellectual endeavor, where such works as the last quartets of Beethoven come into being. It is a cognitive insight, since the awareness it evokes is a definite addition to the mind.
Much of the impulse to dismiss this seems to result from a misguided notion of what the pragmatic maxim entails. There is no doubt that, in developing the maxim as a theory of meaning, Peirce thought it was possible to use it to clarify theological questions – his use of it to declare transubstantiation meaningless is near-infamous – but what it meant for something to have “practical effects” is a question that Peirce, a staunch theist himself, grappled with throughout his life. Modern pragmatism has seemed to take the pragmatic maxim in either a subjectivist (Richard Rorty,
or neo-positivist (Cheryl Misak, Howard Stein) direction, but Peirce’s later works show that this is not the only two paths available to us.
It is noteworthy that, in rejecting
This is similar to a point I heavily disagreed with
The positions of James and Dewey seem to involve, by necessity, a continual questioning of our beliefs on the part of the individual that appears utterly unrealistic. They seem to hold little regard for the so-called ‘background beliefs’ that Peirce took care to consider and clarify the role of within inquiry. There is a section from Alexis de Tocqueville that I recently read:
Men will never be able to deepen all their ideas by themselves. That is contrary to their limited nature. The most (illegible word) and the most free genius believes a million things on the faith of others. So moral authority no matter what you do must be found somewhere in the moral world. Its place is variable, but a place is necessary for it. Man needs to believe dogmatically a host of things, were it only to have the time to discuss a few others of them. This authority is principally called religion in aristocratic centuries. It will perhaps be named majority in democratic centuries, or rather common opinion.
By shifting the role of truth-making from the community of inquiry to the individual inquirer, those influenced by James and Dewey seem to place a burden too heavy to bear upon them. As you note, we hold a great many beliefs which originate from little more than ‘guessing’, whether such ‘guess’ originates from the individual or their community, and which cannot be known to be true in the present with any degree of certainty. Peirce, recognizing these facts, formulates his notion of truth thus: “if, if inquiry were pursued sufficiently far, then H would be believed, then H is true” (re-stated here by Misak). The implications of this future-oriented notion of truth are equal parts baffling and fascinating.
However, in a different vein from Nathan, I would like to offer a soft criticism of this article’s understanding of pragmatism (though Stern will likely be subject to this criticism as well). Particularly, I think there is a failure to appreciate pragmatism as first and foremost a theory of action or, in the late Richard J. Bernstein’s words, a “philosophy of praxis”. I recognize that the length of this comment is getting rather large, and I do not wish to impose on you an explanation of a philosophical movement you may not care for, so I’ll end with a quote from Erkki Kilpinen on the subject and recommend two papers from him, which are freely available if you so choose – “Pragmatism as a Philosophy of Action” and “Habit, Action, and Knowledge from the Pragmatist Perspective”.
Classical Pragmatism completely discarded the above understanding about ’habit’ [as unconscious action] and its role in human action. It redefined this term, so that it hardly is an exaggeration to call it the basic concept in classical Pragmatism. Needless to say, the meaning of the term then undergoes a radical transformation. In its Pragmatist usage, it does not refer to the routine character, but instead to the process character of human action. For Pragmatism, action is an already ongoing process, not a series of instantaneous, discrete actions. Human intentionality, rationality and moral responsibility are not forgotten, but Pragmatism situates them inside the habitual process of action, not outside, as is the traditional understanding.
To make one last reference to Heschel, it is worth recalling his writings on prayer, in particular his claim that “prayer in Judaism is an act in the messianic drama. We utter the words of the Kaddish: Magnified and sanctified be His great name in the world which He has created according to His will. Our hope is to enact, to make real the magnification and sanctification of this name here and now.” This is the essential proclamation, in my view, of pragmatic spirituality.
Second post on “Listening to non-pragmatists” (7 Apr. 2024)
Apologies for the incomplete paragraph in the middle there. I got carried away writing the rest of the comment and seem to have forgotten to finish it. What I was going to go for there was simply a point about how Peirce expanded his notion of experience later in life. To quote Misak (quoting Peirce):
For Peirce, experience is a very broad notion—it is anything that is forced upon one. Perception, for instance, goes far beyond what our ears, eyes, nose, and skin report. He says, “anything is, for the purposes of logic, to be classed under the species of perception wherein a positive qualitative content is forced upon one’s acknowledgement without any reason or pretension to reason. There will be a wider genus of things partaking of the character of perception, if there be any matter of cognition which exerts a force upon us . . .” (CP 7. 623, 1903.)
A sensation or observation does not have to be caused by one’s senses, for it ‘is merely an idea arising in the mind, and not produced by previous ideas’. Peirce takes anything that is compelling, surprising, brute, or impinging to be an experience, regardless of what causes us to feel compelled and regardless of whether we can identify the source of the compulsion. He says that ‘By brutally I mean without appealing to our voluntary reasoning.’ (MS 339, ‘The Logic Notebook’, 15 Oct. 1908.) Something impinges upon us if its ‘immediate efficacy nowise consists in conformity to rule or reason’ (CP 6. 454, 1908). And: ‘The course of life has developed certain compulsions of thought which we speak of collectively as Experience.’ (CP 8. 101, 1900.)
This is relevant due to the contrast with Segall’s “minimalist model” – he does not appear to appreciate ‘experience’ as the vital force it was for the pragmatists (see Steven Levine on the subject). A model which “restricts itself to the kinds of claims that modern Westerners can potentially endorse without reservation” is not really worth much of anything, because it denies this the centrality of experience, broadly construed, in forming our beliefs. His discussion of rebirth, as you note, is a prime example of this. Our ‘background beliefs’, the “preexisting prior beliefs” of a given society, are not set in stone, they are historically contingent and infinitely fallible in light of experience. Neither are they, as you recognize, relative – either rebirth (or some variant of rebirth) is true and will be held to be true no matter what or it is false and future experience will deem it to be false.
Third post on “Listening to non-pragmatists” (8 Apr. 2024)
A final addition, just to entirely clarify the missing paragraph because I realize now that I probably did properly understand some of Segall’s arguments, is a response to the particular arguments regarding truth. In particular, a comment you highlighted in the previous blog post:
I think it’s best to give up claims to anything being “ultimate reality” — when have such claims ever gotten us anywhere useful in the past? — and also to give up on a single integrated theory that can include everything—everything being not only the nature of mind and material reality, not only quantum mechanics and relativity, but also ethical, aesthetic, historical, and political “reality.” Instead we can come up with “little” theories that partially describe and predict within one or two domains in ways that are useful for us given our purposes and projects in the world. If the little theories are in some ways incompatible, so be it, as long as they are useful in their domains of application. A “larger” theory of how disparate domains might be interelated is something we may aspire to but may be beyond our reach for now. For me the question of nondual vs. dualistic accounts is purely pragmatic—if I view the world through a nondual lens, are their certain problems that are important to me that seem to yield valuable insights I wouldn’t have gotten had I viewed the world through a dualistic lens, and vice versa. I’m not sure there is anything one can meaningfully say beyond that.
While I share Segall’s skepticism toward what I’ll term ‘worldview philosophies’, there is a fundamental distinction between skepticism of such ‘big thinking’, which I take to mean a fundamentally agnostic view of their utility, and a denial outright of their place in inquiry. I would agree with Segall that truth is “always tentative and partial”, but he seems to take that in a different meaning. I very much agree with him when he claims that “modern Western science is on the wrong foot in its insistence on a clockwork universe which leaves no room for purpose, intention, awareness, or any grounding for moral and aesthetic values.” However, to state that Western science must give up the possibility of knowing anything about the ‘ultimate reality’ is a decidedly unpragmatic notion. It is breaking Peirce’s ‘sole rule of reason’: “Do not block the way of inquiry.” Such a claim does not merely reorient the scientific process, it undermines it.
An important distinction in Peirce, which Segall does not appreciate, is that Peirce does not claim that we will know anything about the ‘ultimate reality’ or regarding ‘lost knowledge’; he claims that we must hope to know such things.
With regards to experience, I believe saying that Segall disregards it was a misreading on my part, and I apologize for that. The statements regarding ‘backgrounds beliefs’ may still hold true. Additionally, I believe that I was correct when I said that pragmatism is more properly thought of as a philosophy of action, and that this is a perspective that Segall is missing.
It’s inevitable that as we experience more, read more, and learn more, we eventually come to see our older ideas in a newer light. This newer light isn’t something we deliberately seek out—it just “happens” along the way. Is it ever otherwise? It seems consistent, howewer, with the Buddhist teachings on non-self and impermanence—there’s no unchanging you or me, and no unchanging understanding of Buddhism.
The important distinction Segall and Peirce here, as I referenced the fact that Peirce held experience to be something that “happens to us”, is that rather than Peirce’s “recalcitrant experience” which shocks one out of a dogmatic slumber, very much akin to the notions of Shinran and Heschel I referenced in the original post, Segall takes a much broader and gradual view. The issue is that this appears, ironically, to deny our agency even more than Peirce does. My issue is that Segall seems to view inquiry as something which happens rather than emerging with intentionality out of human action. For Peirce, an experience that throws one into doubt is simply the first step of inquiry, of the “scientific method” as he referred to it. This is not, as Erkki Kilpinen is quick to note, an individualistic perspective – Royce and Mead are essential reads for anyone who wishes to claim such – but it implies a level of agency arising from social action. I am especially critical of his statements on social evolution with this in mind, as he seems to endorse a rather mechanistic view of the concept compared to the classical pragmatists.
Dewey believed that there is no such thing as an essential human nature but only the way we happen to have turned out given a particular train of genetic and social evolution and personal experience. Human nature may change over time given further genetic and/or social change. All we can say is what humans are like now and what the historical record says we were like in the past. Can we humans overcome our selfishness, competitiveness, tribalism, and aggressiveness in some ideal future? We can’t appeal to some essential human nature to answer that question. The answer can only be “who knows?” and maybe, “we shall see.” In this way, Deweyans share the Zen attitude of “not knowing.”
Morality is also contingent on social evolution. What was moral for honor, warrior, or frontier cultures is not what is moral for industrialized Western democratic cultures today. Aristotle, in his day, did not extend his esteem for the Athenian male aristocracy to women, slaves, or barbarians. As pragmatist philosopher Richard Rorty suggested, moral growth occurs through acts of imagination that allow us to understand the perspectives of people we once thought of as “not like us.” As we consider their perspectives and take them into account, we often enrich our own.
All this said, it is worth stating directly that I hope that I do not appear to be criticizing Segall with any sort of hostility – unfortunately, due to my autism, this can come across as such even when it is not at all intended. I have found his comments and blog very insightful, and we appear to be in a great deal of agreement, just having what Misak refers to as ‘family squabbles’ between pragmatists.
Nathan replies:
Hello Em, thanks for your interesting comments. One point I would question is: “The positions of James and Dewey seem to involve, by necessity, a continual questioning of our beliefs on the part of the individual that appears utterly unrealistic.” This may be more true of James than of Dewey (and the same for your claim that James and Dewey shift “the role of truth-making from the community of inquiry to the individual inquirer”), though it would take deeper knowledge of their whole works than I possess to say for certain. I remember that Colin Koopman criticized Dewey for the opposite reason (in “Genealogical pragmatism: how history matters for Foucault and Dewey”, Journal of the Philosophy of History, 5(3), 2011, 533–561):
Once our problems are evident and plain to see, it is clear that pragmatist reconstruction is an enormous resource. But if we sometimes need to force ourselves to confront problems where we assume that there are none, pragmatism (especially Dewey’s) is of little help in this project of teaching ourselves to doubt where belief is most firm. (Footnote 56: This criticism can be offered at a more general level as applicable to the pragmatist conception of inquiry as a motion from doubt to belief as exemplified in Charles S. Peirce, “The Fixation of Belief” [1877] in Buchler (ed.), Philosophical Writings of Peirce (New York: Dover, 1955). What pragmatism does not prepare us for is to undertake inquiries whose motion is in the opposite direction, namely from belief to doubt. I would argue that William James is an exception to this general tendency of the classical pragmatists, and that Richard Rorty among more recent pragmatisms is also a thinker of ironizing doubts.)
Koopman also has interesting things to say about what he frames as a conflict between metaphysical versus methodological pragmatism, which is related to Amod’s beefs with Seth’s book.
I think you’ve reached the wrong conclusions about some of Seth’s views in your third comment. You said: “An important distinction in Peirce, which Segall does not appreciate, is that Peirce does not claim that we will know anything about the ‘ultimate reality’ or regarding ‘lost knowledge’; he claims that we must hope to know such things.” I agree with the two sentences preceding this one, but I don’t see how what Seth said notably differs from what you are saying in this sentence. You also said: “The issue is that this appears, ironically, to deny our agency even more than Peirce does. My issue is that Segall seems to view inquiry as something which happens rather than emerging with intentionality out of human action.” I don’t think he’s denying agency; he’s talking about insight, not inquiry; inquiry is the action, and insight is one of the products. Insofar as the insight is a result of the acquisition and systematization of knowledge (cf. Nicholas Rescher’s coherentism again), saying that it “happens” is accurate and captures well how it feels (e.g., Graham Wallas in The Art of Thought, 1926: “we cannot influence it by a direct effort of will”); we initiate and guide the systematizing, but the insight comes from the knowledge system. Finally, you said: “I am especially critical of his statements on social evolution with this in mind, as he seems to endorse a rather mechanistic view of the concept compared to the classical pragmatists.” I think what Seth says here is pretty congruent with Dewey (e.g., his 1938 essay “Does human nature change?”) and pragmatic ethics in general (e.g., Elizabeth Anderson’s 2015 address “Moral bias and corrective practices: a pragmatist perspective”).
Reply to Nathan (10 Apr. 2024)
Hello Nathan,
You’re correct I was overstating the case re: Dewey and conflating his position with James’. Dewey’s view is unacceptable to me on different terms, which is his conflation of epistemology with political philosophy. In this regard, I would turn to Michael Oakeshott, but both Misak and Robert Talisse have also criticized Dewey on this point with relevance to this conversation. They accuse Dewey of not being able to account for “the fact of reasonable pluralism”, as Rawls puts it. This whole debate seems to be almost a rehash of that critique, though in different terms, as Segall’s view seems similarly ‘comprehensive’ in the way Misak and Talisse oppose.
This is where I’ll bring Oakeshott in and note that Segall here does seem to be engaging in what he calls the “politics of faith”. Oakeshott doesn’t mean religious faith here, but rather a political doctrine whereby
political decision and enterprise may be understood as a response to an inspired perception of what the common good is, or it may be understood as the conclusion which follows a rational argument; what it can never be understood as is a temporary expedient or just doing something to keep things going.
This is relevant to Lele’s critique that “[w]e must see their very different worldviews as more than just ‘resources’.” The opposition here, though mild, is that Segall is attempting to assert a pluralism through a political philosophy and worldview that cannot meaningfully account for it. Seth Vannatta argues that Dewey’s political philosophy is not subject to Oakeshott’s critique in Conservatism and Pragmatism, but I think he’s off-base here in light of Misak and Talisse’s critiques (for which I find his answers unsatisfying) – I would go so far as to say that Vannatta simply does not understand them. Regardless, I do not believe that Segall’s brand of pragmatism can adequately defend the pluralism he wants to go for. I believe Oakeshott and Vannatta would actually be of great benefit to him in this regard. Roy Tseng as well, though I consider his reading of Oakeshott to be rather idiosyncratic.
This is an entirely minor point, and I am only bringing this up because I was reading some history on the subject earlier, but I would like to point out that the notion “[t]here are some questions (e.g., foreign policy) that can only be addressed as a unified nation, and others that can be left to the laboratory of the states” is an argument derived from James Madison which was used to justify the institution of slavery throughout the Southern states. The reason I bring this up is due to the shared historicism between Segall and I. Oakeshott’s concept of a ‘civil association’, while superficially similar, avoids this issue through its conception of freedom as non-domination, “freedom from being legally subjected to the purposes of others.” (to lazily steal from the SEP) Additionally, I’m not convinced that Segall’s incrementalism holds up historically. To steal an analogy from geology, politics is neither gradualist nor catastrophist – it is a gradual process punctuated by occasional catastrophe. This is not to say that consensus in politics is unnecessary, but that these “intimations of a tradition” (Oakeshott’s phrasing) do not always take incremental forms. They can happen quite suddenly and, indeed, violently. Nonetheless, to quote Vannatta,
[A]lthough the 620,000 deaths of the U.S. Civil War played a role in the extension of civil rights, ultimately, the affections, sensibilities, and prejudices of the American people were and are the conditions for the possibility of real, melioristic reform. And while the genuine reforms were legal, the condition for the possibility of their occurrence was the change in cultural sensibilities and affections.
And, to quote Oakeshott directly one last time, because I love this quote in particular:
[Tradition] is neither fixed nor finished; it has no changeless centre to which understanding can anchor itself; there is no sovereign purpose to be perceived or invariable direction to be detected; there is no model to be copied, idea to be realized, or rule to be followed. Some parts of it may change more slowly than others, but none is immune from change. Everything is temporary.
On my understanding of Segall’s position on inquiry, I would acknowledge again that I appear to have misread him in an effort to clarify myself. However, my understanding of Rescher is unfortunately not as strong as I would like. The distinction between inquiry and insight seems to be precisely the sort of distinction that I read the pragmatists as arguing against – as Erkki Kilpinen notes, “for pragmatism human action also is a process; it is not a string of individual ‘actions’ that take place one at a time, as is the understanding in other major philosophies.” It’s additionally important to note here Peirce’s and the neo-Peircean emphasis on truth as that which would be agreed upon at a hypothetical end of inquiry. This is not an especially helpful formulation of this concept of truth, see Misak’s monograph on the matter, but it points out something important for this discussion here – that the neo-Peircean is kicking the can of truth down the road, such that a distinction between insight/inquiry doesn’t really make much sense. As Peirce says,
We cannot be quite sure that the community ever will settle down to an unalterable conclusion upon any given question. Even if they do so for the most part, we have no reason to think the unanimity will be quite complete, nor can we rationally presume any overwhelming consensus of opinion will be reached upon every question. All that we are entitled to assume is in the form of a hope that such conclusion may be substantially reached concerning the particular questions with which our inquiries are busied.
In this sense, inquiry would be more accurately described – as Kilpinen notes – as a process. Segall, obviously, is much more influenced by Dewey than Peirce, but the notions of impermanence and dependent arising seem to imply a similar sense of inquiry-as-process rather than inquiry-as-event. As he says, “the search for better beliefs is always an open-ended process of continued inquiry.”
The point about ‘lost knowledge’ is related to this and a direct response to Segall’s question “when have such claims ever gotten us anywhere useful in the past?” My point is that this seems to contradict a consistent fallibilism. To quote Peirce (for the last time, I promise):
But I may be asked what I have to say to all the minute facts of history, forgotten never to be recovered, to the lost books of the ancients, to the buried secrets … Do these things not really exist because they are hopelessly beyond the reach of our knowledge? And then, after the universe is dead (according to the prediction of some scientists), and all life has ceased forever, will not the shock of atoms continue though there will be no mind to know it? To this I reply that, though in no possible state of knowledge can any number be great enough to express the relation between the amount of what rests unknown to the amount of the known, yet it is unphilosophical to suppose that, with regard to any given question (which has any clear meaning), investigation would not bring forth a solution of it, if it were carried far enough. Who would have said, a few years ago, that we could ever know of what substances stars are made whose light may have been longer in reaching us than the human race has existed? Who can be sure of what we shall not know in a few hundred years? Who can guess what would be the result of continuing the pursuit of science for ten thousand years, with the activity of the last hundred? And if it were to go on for a million, or a billion, or any number of years you please, how is it possible to say that there is any question which might not ultimately be solved?
Segall comes very close to arguing for the Peircean position at times, which is why I emphasized that our disagreement is ultimately minor. For comparison, I criticized Jason Ānanda Josephson Storm in an abandoned paper for adopting what I called “a ‘misaligned’ Peircean pragmatism” (one of the few parts of that paper I would still stand by); with Segall, I barely view his position as misaligned. He is simply not as hopeful.
I was not especially clear concerning the social evolution bit, but I will admit that I do not believe that my criticism was accurate there. What I took issue with is not the notion of social evolution. I have written before about sociocultural evolution and am a massive admirer of Peter Richerson and Robert Boyd, who are theorists of sociocultural evolution. What I took issue with is how Segall emphasized the genetic aspect in a way that I felt created a distinction between genetic and social evolution; in essence, I took Segall to mean that they are distinct rather than interrelated forces. As Richerson and Boyd note,
Researchers in [the sociobiology tradition] emphasize that cultural evolution is molded by our evolved psychology, but not the reverse. As psychologist Charles Lumsden and evolutionary biologist E. O. Wilson put it, genes have culture on a leash. Culture can wander a bit, but if it threatens to get out of hand, its genetic master can bring it to heel. We think that this is only half the story. As we argued at length in the last chapter, heritable cultural variation responds to its own evolutionary dynamic, often leading to the evolution of cultural variants that would not be favored by selection acting on genes. The resulting cultural environments then can affect the evolutionary dynamics of alternative genes. Culture is on a leash, all right, but the dog on the end is big, smart, and independent. On any given walk, it is hard to tell who is leading who.
However, upon reflection, it appears self-evident that Segall was expressing something closer to Richerson & Boyd than Lumsden & Wilson here.
Nathan replies:
Em, I agree with a lot of what you said, but I’m not really with you at “a distinction between insight/inquiry doesn’t really make much sense”. I will grant that there is some overlap between the two terms. But based on my own experience and my knowledge of the psychological literature, I assume that insight, which my dictionary defines as “an accurate and deep intuitive understanding of a person or thing” (or fact, situation, etc.), is not something that we entirely aim at and achieve intentionally. There is, I admit, a metaphysics behind my view (but other metaphysics could lead to the same conclusion): Our brains, and much else in our lives, are complex adaptive systems. No matter how skillful our executive functions are, they do not have so much control over our understanding that we can call it intentionally produced. Your first quote from Heschel can be interpreted as exemplifying this.
Reply to Nathan (11 Apr. 2024)
Nathan,
I’ve been considering the issue since my reply and I can definitely see a place for an insight/inquiry distinction on similar grounds to you. However, under such an understanding, it doesn’t make sense to talk about insight as a product of inquiry so much as a separate process. Inquiry, as understood by the classical pragmatists, is an intentional process with an aim of ‘getting things right’ or, at least, resulting in a belief. What you’re talking about and what Heschel was talking about seems entirely distinct from this. If we are talking about what happens when I knock on a table, then this simply falls under what Peirce refers to as ‘experience’ (or, more accurately, as firstness). If we are referring to something more akin to what Heschel calls ‘radical amazement’ or Shinran ‘shinjin’, then calling such a thing a product of inquiry seems to just be a category error.
If “insight” is meant to refer to errors of human judgement, or at least the irrational aspects of it, then it’s not an incorrect notion, but misses the key point (at least for Peirce and Dewey) that inquiry is a social and communal process. Peirce very much views the individual inquirer as reactive whereas the community of inquiry is proactive. I am referring to we-intentions when I talk about intentionality in inquiry.
However, there are nuances here that can’t really be discussed without turning the clock back on this conversation in order to fully explain Erkki Kilpinen’s arguments. I am just going to lazily quote from him, particularly from “Problems in Applying Peirce to Social Sciences”:
[W]e can pose the following question: if every train of thought is essentially inferential in character, what then does the human mind do, when it infers?
Peirce’s answer to this question is prima facie surprising, if expressed
in a laconic manner: the human mind does not actually ‘draw’ its inferences. In order to see what this means, recall what he said above about thought’s role in regard to motor action and conduct: it regulates them, rather than, say, produces them or brings them about. The idea of regulation is not confined to this task. Above, Peirce was perhaps unnecessary generous to his predecessor Wundt, by calling him the sole inventor of the idea that thought is essentially inferential. Rather, the truth is that Peirce brought to fruition Wundt’s original idea. Namely, his mature position is (cf. Murphey, 1961, pp. 359–60) that though every train of thought is potentially inferential, it does not have to be so actually. Peirce is famous for maintaining that logical reasoning takes place by means of self-control – in this it resembles ethics and is related to it – so that according to him a logical reasoner does not so much ‘draw’ his or her inferences. He or she rather receives ‘inferential candidates,’ in the stream of mental associations (CP 7.443-4f. [1893]), and out of these (s)he by means of self-control, by deciding whether to accept the association as a conclusion or not, makes genuine conclusions. “A logical reasoner is a reasoner who exercises great self-control in his intellectual operations”, is Peirce’s well-known position (EP 2:200–1 [1903]). The underlying idea is a bit like that of a gardener cultivating her flowers (cf. EP 1:354 [1893]). A gardener begins with great many seedlings, of which only a small minority will eventually flourish. Out of those seedlings, the gardener selects the most promising ones, nurtures them actively, and picks out of the ground and destroys the less promising ones. In this way she eventually produces a beautiful flower-bed, and I submit that the model in Peirce’s theory of reasoning is similar: a small minority of continuously flowing mental associations are eventually accepted as logical conclusions, and the procedure in doing this is precisely that of exercising self-control, as Peirce liked to say.
Nathan replies:
Em, calling insight a separate process makes sense. In my conception of it, insight is a psychological process, whereas inquiry is more or less a social epistemological process. What I meant by calling insight a product of inquiry (and I should additionally specify: a cognitive/experiential product, which is also a process) is this: Inquiry, as you just said, aims for belief or knowledge. Knowledge is more or less a knowledge system (due to the coherence aspect of knowledge). Insofar as we possess this knowledge system in the brain, it is input for insight. Therefore insight is (proximally) the product of this knowledge system, which is (distally) the product of inquiry. I don’t know much about Heschel, but in your quote he calls his “cognitive insight” “the climax of thought, indigenous to the climate that prevails at the summit of intellectual endeavor”. That does seem to imply, in my interpretation, that insight is a product, at least distally, of “intellectual endeavor”, i.e., inquiry. I love your latest Kilpinen quote. The garden metaphor is also used in Yogācāra-derived Buddhist philosophy to describe the mind, albeit in a different way. In my conception of insight, the garden is, to some degree, the output of inquiry and the input to insight.
Nathan replies:
Em, by the way, your latest Kilpinen quote reminds me of a book that may interest you if you don’t know it: C. A. Hooker’s Reason, Regulation, and Realism: Toward a Regulatory Systems Theory of Reason and Evolutionary Epistemology (State University of New York Press, 1995). It makes some claims very much like Kilpinen’s but in the idiom of complex adaptive systems and without reference to Peirce (but with lengthy discussions of Popper, Rescher, and Piaget).