History of Philosophy and Charity

Posted on August 18, 2008
Filed Under Philosophy |

There is an other interesting post by Brandon up. This one is about history of philosophy and what one might call the principle of charity. The problem is when some key element of an argument is obscure. As Brandon notes ideally we should see if the term is used or explained elsewhere. However many papers make guesses as to use.

It’s interesting that Brandon takes up an analytic philosopher as his example. Maybe I’m reading too much into it but my sense is that he thinks this wouldn’t happen with contemporary philosophers. But, from my reading of Davidson the past couple of months, this seems to be very, very typical of how philosophers read other contemporary philosophers and not merely of how philosophers read historic (i.e. pre-20th century) philosophers. I say this because Davidson is, in some places, somewhat obscure and I’ve encountered many papers discussing Davidson that make guesses as to what Davidson was thinking.

While I think Brandon is right that this often is annoying, let me make a bit of a defense.

I think the principle of charity entails that we read others as strongly as possible. That is given obscure passages what we should be focused in on is the strongest reading possible and not necessarily be too concerned as to what the philosopher was necessarily thinking at the time.

Thus “guesses” ought cover most reasonable assumptions of how the argument could run as well as perhaps straightforward senses of how the philosopher used the term elsewhere. I don’t think the fact the philosopher at other times used the term in a particular way is always going to tell us how he used it in a particular paper. This is especially true with philosopher’s whose thought undergoes considerable growth. Especially if they appropriate old terminology in new ways. (Say, for instance, Heidegger)

What’s more important as well is less an exegesis of a text than doing philosophy. That is the argument and their strength. The downside with any principle of charity is that what one person considers strong an other might not. (Consider for instance Carnap being charitable to Heidegger in considering Heidegger’s arguments about nothing) So some familiarity with the author’s work is a must to be charitable. We should be charitable in terms compatible with the author as much as possible.

Still, it is often the case that some philosophers are sloppy in how they approach historical figures. Sometimes this is somewhat justified. (For instance I don’t think Heidegger’s reading of Leibniz or Kant is particularly concerned with how those figures understood themselves - but intentionally so) Most of the time it is not.

Comments

3 Responses to “History of Philosophy and Charity”

Well, the principle of charity requires that we assume that someone knows what they are talking about unless we have reasonably solid proof otherwise; this is very different, I think, from reading others as strongly as possible, simply because charity may (as you note) require us to recognize that we cannot assume that we are always better judges of what counts as ’strong’, or, indeed, that the person being interpreted would necessarily agree that we have good standards of what counts as ’strong’ in the first place. If we are really using the principle of charity, we will assume that Plato, Leibniz, Nietzsche, etc., are at least not our intellectual inferiors, and therefore recognize that it is at least possible that they are making the moves they are because they recognize something that we are missing. In other words, the principle of charity requires that interpretation be (so to speak) a two-way street — and that means that interpretation without exegesis is not charitable interpretation, because it is interpretation without adequate evidence. Philosophical exegesis is not less philosophical than speculative reconstruction; it is, on the contrary, a way of doing philosophy that takes the evidence into account. (Not the only way, I think, but definitely one way.) We may well develop speculative reconstructions, which I think can be an entirely rational enterprise; but it is not a substitute for exegesis, precisely because speculation, however charitable and however clever, is not a substitute for evidence.

I do agree, though, that it occurs with more contemporary philosophers as well; I think it’s often just easier to get away with , because (1) it’s at least slightly easier to make a good guess, because there is less difference between the context of the interpreter and the context of the interpreted; and (2) it’s easier to get away with because such guesses are less likely to betray the more tell-tale signs (like anachronism, inconsistency with broader context, etc.) that plague bad speculations about, say, Berkeley.

I think my point though is that if we’re more interested in arguments rather than what philosophers thought that providing alternative forms of the argument is helpful. While I know others have criticized Lepore and Ludwig’s book on Davidson I do like that they provide several forms of possible arguments that Davidson is making. They’ll criticize the weaker ones and explain why one particular reading is more defensible.

I’m not arguing against exegesis mind you. I think though that that there is a different approach dependent upon whether our focus is the topic the philosopher is addressing or the philosopher.

I agree that alternative forms of argument should be considered; it’s a pretty standard part of philosophical exegesis itself. I also agree that one might be interested not just in the particular form of argument available in the text, but in analogous arguments as well; which is not interpretation of the philosophical text, but merely ordinary reflection that uses it as a starting point. Neither of these, in fact, are interpretation of the argument, although they may and often do assist in it; and people who are interested in it are not necessarily ‘more interested in arguments’, they are simply interested in doing very particular things with them (what, exactly, will depend on the case). If they are genuinely more interested in arguments they will take the trouble to gather evidence as to how they actually work. If not, they’re not more interested in arguments but more interested in their own arguments. There are times when it is entirely reasonable to be so; but it is a very different thing. I don’t think the division lies in whether our focus is the topic or the philosopher, however; the value of evidence does not evaporate when you move from talking about philosophers to talking about the topics they’ve discussed, and exegesis has exactly the same place it did (as do non-exegetical approaches).

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