Anti-Expertism

Fellow #1: It seems to me that the end of epistemology is not a justification of how we know, but rather a description of how we know. Further, this is the end of all thought: Description, testing of the description with the thing known/experienced/apprehended, refining of the description, etc.

Fellow #2: Yes, but this seems to frame all things merely in the subjective. How could we then describe anything? The force of language is only as strong as those who command it. Further, one word means one thing to one man and to another man, something else. We can never be sure of communication.

Fellow #1: Firstly, your use of “merely” betrays your assumption that the subjective is not really a valid way of knowing, instead the objective trumps all. Secondly, although you demand the objective as the way of knowing, you deny it as a possibility. The reality is that we can only communicate because of commonality in language. This, again, is not an argument but rather a description of this very conversation. We go back and forth assuming —no, understanding that we grasp each others words. Why must we be constrained by the classical dichotomy of subjective/objective?

Fellow #2: Because that is our historical backdrop. You see, for me there is a leap of faith in language. We assume the other grasps our meaning, we cannot every know for sure because we cannot get into the other persons mind. Subjectivity reigns; consequently, we can neither be certain of communication with those outside of our cultural context, nor legitimately appropriate others myths/religious beliefs.

Fellow #1: That is just silly.

Fellow #2: Naming calling won’t sway me.

Fellow #1: Perhaps, but your recognition of it just proves my point.

Lately, I have been conceiving wisdom in a bit of a different light. Perhaps this way of framing it will be unhelpful to some but I believe it has merit. Fundamentally, my current reflection on wisdom, stems from my recent interaction with authors and cohorts who seem to misconstrue what philosophy is all about, namely love of wisdom, not onanistic joy of theoretical systems (I am accusing no one who reads this blog of making that mistake). 

Why describe it as onanistic joy?

Because only engaging (calculating?) the theoretical, that is to say the general or "universal" does not produce. It cannot be truly productive, i.e. productive in the world —there are certainly no fruits of love. It is nearly pornographic, looking at everything in general without recognizing the particular presented. One might (might, mind you) call it objectifying.

On the flip side, solely engaging the event, the happening, the singular experience in history does not simply do it  justice either. Firstly, to call each event singular, is to catch oneself in a generalization of a particular, that is to say commit a "contradiction" (in the most etymological sense: contra-diction). Secondly, to singularize the event would be to place it outside of the category of other events in such a way that it is utterly incomparable which is to say it is a non-event, and each event then, being singular, is also a nonevent (for to use a word is to speak in a generality). This, too, de-values (in its least economic sense) the event, rather than objectify it turns it into a ghost, an almost non-thing.

To call a woman beautiful is to set her apart, to say she is other, that is, except-tional —she is a singularity. Yet, in order for this to have meaning, for the women to accept it as compliment, she must see herself as comparable to other women, still comparable in a way that is dis-comparable. There must do violence to be comparable but not too much.

It is in this space, between the universal and the particular, that one practices sophia, wisdom: a place where one may respect a thing's or event's uniqueness and its commonality without doing violence (or, at least, not too much violence). To be wise one must stand between, to see both with balance, which is to say act according to good judgment. This is the sort of thing which cannot be completely taught but must be learned with experience: it is an art as much as it is a skill.

What is the difference between these two statements?

1. The House is on Fire.

2. I believe the statement "the House is on Fire" is true. 

As far as truth claims, there is no difference. But in terms of tone, it can make all the difference in the world. And tone comes from consciousness. Conscious comes from the Latin con + scio meaning "I know with." But what is it we “know with?” Words. The consequence of those overly-conscious can, then, drive one mad. If the overly-conscious always thinks, "I believe ‘x’ is true," there would be constant reassessment of all truths. This is the logical extension of the Cartesian principle "doubt all things until proven true." The constant application of this principle, in the way I have outlined, results in madness. The mind feels always assaulted by the need to justify itself rather than just think; thus, one is left to pacing about his house, repeating what he thinks; there cannot be progress.

However, if that is true then our only option in order to have faith is to doubt doubt itself. This is the ultimate critique of this skepticism. But why must we doubt doubt itself, if all reasoning is in question? Then there cannot be a reason to doubt doubt itself. Therefore, we must give a reason to doubt doubt itself? But this is absurd; yet, we must do it if we are to trust anything to be true. 

Perhaps we approach wrongly. Because one does not trust his wife for a reason and yet, one’s trust is not unreasonable for both have made a commitment to each other. This is because one’s wife has shown her faithfulness to her husband. This cannot be “logically proven” but still it is seen—that is, it is experienced in history. Hindsight is 20/20 and so, the husband trusts in his wife’s faithfulness which is to say he trusts in the wife herself. One believes the statement “my wife is faithful” is true. Yet one would not think “I believe the statement ‘My wife is faithful’ is true,” one would simply believe that his wife is faithful. Further, if one were to demand that his wife prove her faithfulness, then it would imply that we see her as unfaithful. Consequently, the demanding of proof means doubting. Conversely, to doubt means one has seen the proof; for one cannot doubt what one has not seen. Hence, to earnestly doubt is to implicitly profess faith.

Are we not like the husband and is not God like the wife? 
I have doubted that God has snatched a small, weak, slave nation, Israel, out of the oppressive hands of a greater nation, Egypt. Further, I have doubted that I have been a slave to something (sex? drugs? money?) and that I have been delivered. I have doubted that God Himself sent His Own Son to deliver us, like He did Israel, through His Own death. I have doubted God’s faithfulness. I have doubted God Himself. It is because of I have earnestly doubted God’s faithfulness that I implicitly professed faith for I have seen His faithfulness.. And, if I have seen it implicitly, then I cannot help but proclaim explicitly. Otherwise, I will not be earnest.   How did I come to implicitly profess faith? That is a great mystery. How can a man explain what he has seen; he can only admit that he saw it. Similarly, one can not explain why one has faith, only that one possesses it.