Philosophising and facts

Some people contend that philosophy is out of the picture once factual considerations come into play. Nicholas Rescher identifies the common view as: ‘Whenever questions require factual materials for their satisfactory resolution, then addressing them is “no longer doing philosophy (p.35).”’ He quotes Bertrand Russell:

‘… as soon as definite knowledge concerning any subject becomes possible, this subject ceases to be called philosophy, and becomes a separate science (p.35).’

Yet big philosophical problems can, and often do, arise within subjects that are seemingly distinct from philosophy, such as science, psychology, politics, economics and history. An important role for philosophical dialogue is, using Rescher’s phase: ‘the philosophical elucidation of fact-laden issues (p.36).’

In philosophical enquiry with young people, a neglect of factual details could have some unfortunate consequences. Firstly, teachers might limit the agenda for enquiry to issues that don’t require additional research. They might avoid some of the most pressing questions of the day, with huge moral, political and epistemological implications, even when young people want to discuss them.
 
Secondly, young people may not have sufficient background knowledge available to them, even after pooling their own experiences and prior learnings, with which to exercise their best thinking about issues that matter to them.

Rescher considers two words in relation to agenda-setting that I use a lot when I work with young people: interest and importance.

He writes that the importance of a philosophical issue can be evaluated by considering ‘the difference its absence makes in the larger scheme of things'. What is lost by not discussing the issue? On the other hand, interest hinges on people’s personal – and potentially idiosyncratic – concerns.

Ideally, one wants young people to think their sessions of philosophical enquiry are both interesting and important. However, when factual input is avoided or sessions move too quickly from one topic to another, issues of importance are bound to be crowded out or treated in shallow ways. Then philosophy becomes the preserve of enthusiasts. If it doesn’t much interest you, why bother making an effort? If you’re not having fun, why give it your attention?

There is an argument that reasoning skills and dialogical virtues will transfer from context to context and subject to subject. According to this view, when adults inevitably encounter fact-laden controversies in life, they will be better prepared to navigate them and act wisely if, as young people, they have honed their skills and communicative virtues on abstract thought experiments or brief discussions in response to a single information source (otherwise known in p4c circles as ‘the stimulus’). That is plausible but not convincing. It might be better to deliberately help children recognise the importance of philosophising for ‘the elucidation of fact-laden issues.’ That means working with young people to welcome the world into the space of philosophical dialogue, seek relevant facts from more than one source, evaluate them and link them to the ‘big picture’ that lives and grows within groups and individuals.

‘Presence’: a significant concept for dialogue

Advocates of dialogue should give due weight to the concept of ‘presence’ – presence, for example, of difference points of view, different interpretations of information, different life experiences and perspectives and different notions of key concepts.

Chaïm Perelman and Lucy Olbrechts-Tyteca (1971) remind us that ‘presence is an essential factor in argumentation and one that is far too much neglected in rationalistic conceptions of rationality’ (p.118). They quote a Chinese folk story to emphasise their point that in all deliberative situations, much depends on what is seen and not seen, heard and not heard: 


‘A king sees an ox on its way to sacrifice. He is moved to pity for it and orders that a sheep be used in its place. He confesses he did so because he could see the ox, but not the sheep.’ (p.116)

How then could a broad range of perspectives be brought to a dialogue? One educational initiative that tackled this problem devised the term ‘rivalling’: the practice of ‘learning to seek alternative explanations and perspectives within and across competing discourses’ (Flower et al, 2000, p.5). Rivalling – or taking a rival hypothesis stance – was described as a practice of enquiry that was used mostly to ‘come to grips with culturally charged open questions’ (Flower et al, 2000, p.60). Linda Flower and her colleagues at Carnegie Melon University ran an ‘intercultural community literacy programme’ that encouraged students to suggest community problems and generate proposals. The process of getting to the proposals required students to seek ‘rival hypotheses’ gleaned from research, interviews with others in the community and self-reflection. Students presented proposals and supporting arguments at public meetings where further dialogue was encouraged. Flower writes: ‘… we attempted to ground our relationships on a shared problem and an agenda for action.’ In this project, she says her team was trying to respond, ‘to a bell hooks question: on what do blacks and whites build a relationship?’ (Flower et al, 2000, p. 25).

The ‘rivalling’ project demonstrates the feasibility and potential benefits of associations between philosophical reflection, community engagement, historical and sociological research and rhetorically competent exposition. Perhaps such associations suggest one way forward for philosophical dialogue with young people and in communities. There are some parallels with the idea of citizens’ assemblies but with reduced participation and scope.

The dark side of Plato’s cave

 Symbols can outlast the arguments they serve to illustrate.

The allegory of the cave presented by Plato in The Republic (514a-520a) is embedded in western culture (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allegory_of_the_cave). Works of fiction such as ‘The Matrix’ have built on Plato’s vision of a community of cave dwellers constrained by the orthodox, yet false, beliefs they have acquired by watching shadows on their cave walls and mistaking them for reality. One of their number escapes his shackles and glimpses an authentic reality outside the cave but his wisdoms are dismissed by the cave-entombed majority.

Plato likens the rejection of the enlightened escapee by the cave people to the likely rejection of a philosophical truth seeker in society. Plato’s truth seeker is capable of self-correction – not just once in response to a great revelation but as an ongoing labour. He is aware of his own ignorance and fallibility.

Nowadays, a host of zealous truth claimers and conspiracy theorists pronounce to the world as if they are the ones who have escaped a cave of ignorance. They look back at those who remain in the cave with pity and disdain, for surely they are brainwashed by mainstream media and prevailing expert opinion on matters such as climate change or Covid-19.

The humility of the genuine truth seeker is not the modus operandi of the self-aggrandising truth claimer. The virtue of modesty, the painstaking work of acquiring expertise and the patience to sift though evidence before before pronouncing, do not serve them well. And yet they appear to thrive.

This is the dark side of Plato’s allegory as it plays out in modern times.