Philosophy of Language and Social Justice

I often find it difficult to relate to philosophy of language. It's hard for me to find any personal meaning in discussions of the 'signifier' and 'signified' etc. because defining and clarifying the concepts of philosophy of language seem so abstract and removed from anything that relates to my life.

I find it very ironic, considering recent allegations that Peter Ludlow was the one to actually point out to me the possibilities of philosophy of language for social justice. Shortly before his allegations went public, he was invited to speak at McMaster University, and his talk made me realize that language has the power to point out our experiences in new ways, to bend our perception of reality. Consider, for example, the difference between using the phrase 'enhanced interrogation' to 'torture'. I was surprised to realize that many of the things I found interesting about communication theory--its capacity to be subversive, critical, and political--could also be within the realm of philosophy of language. Philosophy of language wasn't just the dry, removed, and abstract.

I was reminded of this recently when I came across a webcomic by one of my new favorite artists, RobotHugs. The comic explains how our normalized use of language imports classism, racism, sexism and other biases. As educated people, we tend to pride ourselves on our ability to navigate the norms of language, but it is important to remember how these norms can also be harmful. Gradually I'm realising that philosophy of language can be very fruitful, interesting, and relevant to people's lives. I might not be the one to analyse definitions of advocate for a specific linguistic theory, but I can see how these debates impact people. The idea of a critical, empathetic philosophy of language is something I can really connect to.

This is why I'm currently organizing a talk on slur reclamation. My mentor and friend Sandra DeVries is going to be speaking sometime in March and I'm really excited because I feel like this is something I have a lot to learn about, and I'm surprised to find that I'm gradually becoming more and more interested in a subject I took for granted for so long. I guess that's the way life is--there is always something new and surprising to learn!

Reasoning Skills and 'Getting Over Yourself'

As the semester rolls on, I have been spending a lot of time with the students I am TAing debating course material in my tutorial, they are very enthousaistic kids who love the topic, so it's very easy to get them into a great discussion. Since they are still only in first year, I do have to stop to discuss reasoning problems like biases and fallacies to keep us on the right track. I've been encouraging my students, especially the ones who seemromising, to take a course that will help them with such reasoning issues. In Windsor we had one called reasoning skills and at McMaster we have critical thinking. I've served as a TA for both of them.

When I was an undergrad myself, I used to think these courses were certainly necessary but not really philosophy. It was more like the 'tutorial' level of a videogame, where you grasped the basic controls so you could understand how to play. In my mind 'real' philosophy courses were about critically examining the ideas of major figures in philosophy. What I see now, however, is a little different. Reasoning courses certainly teach us the basics of how to think well, but they are also an opportunity for meditation on some of the most important questions of philosophy: what is a good philosopher and what is philosophy about?

For many teenagers, myself included, philosophy starts out as a self-aggrandizing practice. We come to the discussion hoping to prove that we are intelligent, at least more intelligent than our interlocutor, and that we are mature enough to know the 'truth' about philosophical questions. This is a very exciting opportunity for young people, as up to this point in our loves we may not have had much autonomy or recognition from our community. The freedom, excitement and pride that come with moving into a dorm room isn't that different from the feeling of being invited to tackle a subject like abortion. It's perfectly normal and healthy to feel excited to prove oneself in philosophical combat, but it's only a phase of development.

Over the course of a reasoning skills course, students gradually learn the skills and rules of argumentation, but they also learn about why those skills and rules are in place. Someone who sees themselves as a combatant might resort to any kind of sophistry to get their way and assert themselves, or they might, like a knight, see their dignity as a combatant in following some kind of code. In examining the rules if argumentation and why we follow them, still others might see themselves as part of a philosophical team, examining problems from all angles to come as close to the truth as possible. Reasoning skills courses invite a more complex understanding of our role in philosophical discourse. 

The last two types, the knight and the team member, will certainly learn something about philosophical humility: being prepared to admit when they are wrong, and being prepared to listen and learn from others, even marginalized groups with unique experiences, to improve their own work. 

I used to have a little aphorism I would share with my friends, almost as an inside joke, 'real philosophy is about constantly getting over yourself.' No matter what you believe, there may come a time when you realize you are wrong. Philosophy is about being able to get over yourself and keep going in those moments. Not to let being wrong crush you. Being able to accept that the values you hold at the deepest part if you will always be changing, and that you will survive it. You might think that holding such a belief would lead you to be superficial and nonchalant about your life, but I've found the people who really understand this process are some of the joyous ones I know. In the end, this is what I really want for my students. Not to be great philosophers in some professional sense, but to learn to be critical and humble enough to not attach their sense of self to always being right.

Aristotle, Catharsis, and Victim Blaming

I started auditing an undergraduate course in Aesthetics (I heard the lecturer was really good and I have not been disappointed). So far I've been learning all kinds of things about Greek Tragedy that I never knew. For example I didn't know that the Greek Tragedies were a kind of religious ceremony, and to not attend one would be considered a very scandalous act. apparently, Socrates never attended the tragedies, and this aroused a lot of suspicion from people.

Why did Socrates not attend the tragedies? He believed they were blasphemous because they showed the Gods doing terrible things to good people for no particular reason. For Socrates, no good, rational God would randomly dish out evils to innocent people, so he refused to attend. Plato agreed with Socrates and his Aesthetic theory reflects that, but Aristotle chose to rationalize tragedies rather than reject them.

Aristotle decided to rationalize the tragedies by saying that even though on the surface it seems like the gods were randomly punishing innocent people, these people in fact had fatal flaws that lead to their demise. So the tragedies only appear irrational but really there was a reason.

What I found interesting about this was that it gave me an idea of how victim-blaming might be motivated in other contexts. Oftentimes in discussions of rape, third parties will seek out 'fatal flaws' that might justify or explain what happened. Perhaps the victim was dressed provocatively or was flirting or drinking and third parties will point to this as evidence that justifies, legitimates, or explains the violence that took place. I used to not understand why this behavior is wrong, and that in cases of sexual assault it is always the perpetrator's fault, regardless of the context, because he or she is the one who makes a choice to act in this way.

I think that perhaps the reason why we victim-blame is the same reason as Aristotle. We refuse to accept that the existence of evil and irrationality in our society, so instead we try to rationalize the evil and irrational things that happen in any way possible. We want to believe that we are safe, that bad things only happen to bad people, and that we can be protected from the random wrath of gods, but that security comes at the cost of not acknowledging a problem that exists, and therefore not doing anything about it.

Addiction, Madness and Dichotomy

Right now, I'm reading Val Plumwood´s Feminism and the Mastery of Nature. Its reminded me a lot of the problems of dualist if thinking, i.e. of dividing things Into two radically different categories that can't be penetrated. Foucault made me realize we have a tendency to do this with mental health: in North American society you are either mad or not, there is no middle ground, and this is what allows for such radically different treatment of people. In actual experience we find these dualisms are not as clear cut as we like to think. Recently I found myself on the uncomfortable cusp of one such dualism.

Like many university students, I really enjoy going out for a drink and I tend to overdo it. Since I'm getting older, however, the bad decisions don't seem as funny, and the hangovers are getting more severe. Moreover, there's a feeling of guilt that comes with the morning after. I don't know if that's a development of maturity or an increase in normative pressure to not be such a lush, or if the two are inseparable. Either way, I've decided I want to reign in my little habit.

I'm not aiming to completely quit, and I don't see myself as an alcoholic. I'm just getting extra help to learn how to make sure my night doesn't get out of hand, how to slow down when I want to. But the amount of social stigma I've come across has been amazing.

When I drank a lot and loved to party, people were comfortable and happy with all of this, but now, they try to put me into one of two categories. They either say 'you don't have a problem and you don't need to change or get help' or 'you have an addiction and the only way to solve this is to stop completely and submit yourself to other people's control'. People either become oddly defensive or controlling. There's no middle ground where I can learn skills for drinking responsibly and still make decisions over my life. 

Thankfully, the counsellors I am getting support from do understand that this dualist way of thinking doesn't line up with my experience, but I feel this need to categorize people and divide them with impermeable boundaries is dangerous and stops people from getting help, not just for addiction counselling, but also mental health and financial aid. This is a problem where I think philosophy can make a real difference and improve people's lives. I have already seen discussions of dualism change the structure of institutions, and I look forward to seeing it change the way individual laypeople approach problems like addiction, mental health and poverty.

What is Love?

I recently started tutoring at a centre, where I work with some very bright teens. It's been very rewarding and has reconnected me with parts of myself I had long forgotten. Getting back in touch with the artsy, introverted, dilettante teen with a penchant for magical thinking I used to be  has helped me relax and given me a lot of perspective of life. Since one of my students' families is facing a divorce, however, it has also dug up some old questions.

When asked if divorced parents still love each other, it brought on a flashback of decades of inquiry. My parents divorced when I was seven-the perfect age to reflect on theoretical ideas about limits and transitions, like 'when does the fridge door light turn on, exactly?' And 'at what point does food become vomit?'- and I couldn't help but wonder when and how love stopped being love, and what love is anyway. I thought perhaps I could understand it by seeing it come into being, but love of the parental variety was a love I had been thrown into since before I could remember, and the formation of love of the romantic variety remained cryptic, with Disney movies offering little (and often inaccurate!) information through third-party observation.

Liking was easy: when someone has character traits you admired, you liked them. I understood what affection was: it was a phenomenon you could easily point out. And of course there were social norms surrounding love. I knew I loved my mom because that was how children are supposed to feel about their parents, and when my step-dad came into the picture it was implied that that was how I was supposed to feel about him. I knew I was supposed to fall in love with Mr. Right but I would only know when because I 'felt it'.

So I stumbled through my teen years trying to understand the feeling and making lots of mistakes along the way (what else are teen years for?), until in university I finally met 'Mr. Right'. Needless to say it was less than reassuring for him to hear that despite knowing I loved him, I didn't know what love was.

At my cousin's wedding ceremony vows I finally heard an answer that I felt was acceptable. Perhaps I accepted it because it seemed convincing, or perhaps I accepted it because my questioning was hurting others around me (a common problem for philosophical types, I think) the answer was that love is a decision we make. Love was a commitment to act towards others in a certain way. This matched my experiences: I made commitments to the people in my life that I loved, and when my parents divorced, they decided that commitment wasn't something they could do or wanted to do anymore.

Except one thing: a retort that was painfully obvious in the face of this student. If love was just a decision we made, some kind of commitment we choose to participate in or not, then how was it possible to find ourselves at the mercy of incredible heartbreak when things fell apart? Love is something that grabs us and has control over us, it can't simply be opted into and out of. And when our relationships fall apart, what's left behind is a kind of emotional cognitive dissonance, where our hearts simply cannot catch up to reality.

I still don't understand what love is. Perhaps it is something beyond mere intellectualization, but I still want to understand it. I'm not happy with vague accounts that say 'when it happens you'll know', but on the other hand perhaps it is something that can only be understood through experience. Even if sometimes that experience can be incredibly painful.

"Taxpayer"

As part of my concurrent education program in undergrad, our class also earned an ECE (Early Childhood Education) diploma with the nearby college. While we were attending the college, there was a mayoral election, and the candidates had a debate in the cafeteria. We decided to join and ask some questions about the municipal childcare closures in our city. We asked what these candidates would do for the children of our city, and all the responses showed a serious problem with the attitude these candidates had toward our younger citizens.

Each candidate only spoke about children as 'future taxpayers' and how they wanted a promising future for these children to grow into, or would speak of children as the offspring of 'taxpayers'. No one really understood that these children were citizens now and had needs that had to be met presently. No one really realized that childcare services weren't just for the benefit of working moms, but for the good of the children as well. It seemed none of them realized they had obligations to all their citizens, and not just present 'taxpayers'. I found this blind spot in their thinking to be somewhat disturbing, but also I thought it was very strange how the use of the word 'taxpayer' rather than citizen was a recurring theme. Since that day, I see the use of the word 'taxpayer' rather than 'citizen' a lot in political rhetoric, and it makes me wonder what the significance of it is.

My speculation is that perhaps politicians use corporate models to understand their role in government. They see taxpayers as investors who need to be placated and that the 'return on investment' is supposed to be an economically healthy community with lots of jobs. While I think economic development is important, I think such an account of government misses out on a lot of important things. For one thing, if we are reducing citizenship to a process of investment and return, how are human citizens, who are merely investors any different from corporate investors? If money is the only 'currency' in this system then what difference does it make where that money comes from? In other words, I think an approach to government that merely look at investors is an approach which is very vulnerable to, or perhaps can't even give an account of, corruption.

Secondly, when we talk about citizens rather than taxpayers, I think we miss out on certain elements that are central to our understanding of citizenship--the idea that we are human beings with human needs who are socially invested in a community. When we see citizens as investors or taxpayers, we reduce them to a numerical or financial account of their role in government, but what government is is more than just an institution that moves money around. A government is supposed to meet social needs, and a government has to be an institution that its citizens can believe in, or else it simply isn't sustainable. Our legitimacy as citizens isn't based on our ability to invest in our government; it's also based on our willingness to be coerced by the state, which is largely based on our beliefs and ideals.

Some things I wonder about are whether this linguistic trend is a cause or symptom of the attitudes I've described above. Is the way we talk about citizenship a product of capitalism? I think a lot of Marxists would say yes. Another question I have is what we should do about it. If the linguistic habit creates these attitudes then merely altering our language would be enough, but I suspect a much deeper and more radical change is required. Either way, the use of the word 'taxpayer' often leaves me suspicious because it suggests the speaker is acting on a model of government that is oversimplified and perhaps even harmful.

"Make Believe" and the Philosophical Process

If I had the opportunity to submit to a conference where I could connect my experience with Early Childhood Education and Philosophy, I think I would talk about pretend play and critical thought.

In ECE we set up an inviting environment with tools and materials that evoke concepts, and allow children to 'learn through play'. If you look at what adults who have internalized (or more accurately never lost) a love of lifelong learning, this is exactly the kind of behaviour they engage in when learning. Most independent learning is interest driven and involves research and experimentation with resources they find. It isn't only through books and articles, but also through talking with others and acting their ideas out in the real world.

In the ECE classroom there are certain materials that are considered highly important and ought to be included in every learning environment, such as blocks, text and writing materials, space for gross motor activity and pretend play materials. The last one can consist of a mock kitchen, costumes, or puppets, but this centre is considered highly important for early childhood development. having pretend play allows children to place themselves in a role and test their hypotheses about the functions and behaviours of that role. For example, a child who is playing a baby will demonstrate what they know about babies by pretending to cry. A child who is playing a mother might demonstrate that mothers are the ones who punish bad behaviour.

Philosophers often think of themselves as being quite different from preschoolers in an ECE environment, but when you look at what happens in philosophy i think a great deal of it involves a kind of pretend play. We find ourselves constantly asking "How would my opponent respond to this argument? Would an uninitiated reader need clarification of these concepts?" In fact, whole branches of philosophy have been based on the idea of taking the perspective of some unexplored other--be it the worker, women, animals, children, et cetera. Even though we might be looking at more complex phenomena, I still believe the virtues of the child who learns through play are virtues we should try to emulate as learners today.