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The common stereotype of the philosopher is the armchair thinker, lost in thought, who is more concerned with whether this armchair really exists then the mundane cares of the world. But this of course is only a stereotype. Many great philosophers have been great activists as well, thoroughly concerned with the cares of the world. Emma Goldman, John Stuart Mill, W.E.B. Dubois and the Chinese political philosopher Mozi, who led a radical social movement opposing warlords, are a few of the philosopher/activists who immediately come to mind. But what is the relationship between philosophy and activism? Is doing philosophy an activist endeavor or is it in tension with activism? To begin with, it might be helpful to point out that the armchair thinker stereotype applies better some to fields of philosophy than others. One doesn’t need to be an artist to do aesthetics, nor does one have to be a practicing biologist to do philosophical work on evolutionary theory. But what about ethics and political philosophy? Both of these fields comment directly on the way we should lead our lives, at both the personal and political level. Can we do good philosophical work in these fields without leading our lives in a certain way? Feminist philosopher Claudia Card points out that to be a feminist philosopher you must be a feminist, that is, an activist. One can’t be a feminist philosopher and a non-practicing feminist. As feminist philosophers we are able to motivate and structure our activism through the insights gained by philosophical reflection. Moreover, we inform our philosophy through our lived experiences as women in sexist societies. Here is a case where activism not only results from philosophy but also precedes it. But this creates tension. As feminists, we have an agenda, which we are passionate about promoting. As philosophers, we are not supposed to have agendas. So, from one perspective it looks like feminism, and activism in general, is bad philosophy. From another it looks like philosophy is bad activism. There seem to be two ways to address the tension. We could argue for an “activist” approach to philosophy or a “philosophical” approach to activism. Let’s start with the former. What would an activist approach to philosophy look like? We might think that, on some level at least, an activist approach to philosophy is practically impossible since philosophers and activists operate in different spheres and are thus subject to different kinds of expectations and pressures. Activists are, in general, concerned with policy, material conditions, rhetoric and persuasion; whereas philosophers, in general, are concerned with concepts, arguments and truth. Moreover, activists and philosophers work under different conditions. Activists need to be responsive to public opinion and political events, but philosophers, at least in theory, need not make any reference to them. As political philosopher Adam Swift points out in his book Political Philosophy: A Beginner’s Guide for Students and Politicians, philosophers enjoy the luxury of having the time and space to carefully work through their ideas (and without losing their jobs); activists are not usually so lucky. Both activists and philosophers are necessary for the proper functioning of society, but Swift advocates a “division of labor”: those who are good at organizing and selling ideas to the public should be activists whereas the careful thinkers of the world are better suited for philosophy (183). If the “division of labor” view just amounts to using one’s talents effectively, then it seems fairly uncontroversial. However, the view is often meant to mean something more: philosophers, by not having to respond to public opinion or political events, are free to think on a higher level of abstraction than activists, a process that philosophers assume frees them from prejudice and bias. An activist approach to philosophy therefore would only serve to muddy up the water by reintroducing bias. There is certainly some truth to this. When we think on a very abstract level, a lot of the features of the world that provoke prejudiced reactions (such as gender, race, class and sexuality) simply fall away. But how much prejudice do we actually lose through this process and how much sneaks back in? In his aptly named essay “The Prejudices of Philosophers,” Nietzsche criticizes the assumption that philosophy is impartial and not motivated by prejudice. To assume that philosophers are searching for truth implies that their quest is somehow above their own prejudices, when in fact there is “nothing impersonal about philosophy.” Philosophy isn’t reflection it’s reflection with an agenda, namely to impose your beliefs, your account of reality, your morality on others. The philosophical canon shouldn’t be read as various attempts to uncover universal truth, but rather as a collection of “personal confessions and involuntary or unconscious memoir(s)” (Beyond Good and Evil, §6). If this is the case then there is no real tension between philosophy and activism, since philosophers have as many biases as activists, only the biases of philosophers are better disguised. Even if we don’t buy Nietzsche’s claim that philosophy is really just a strange kind of autobiography, we should still, I think, share in his skepticism about claims of “universal” or “absolute” truth. Nietzsche contends that absolute truth is a contradictory concept, since it forces us to take up an unthinkable perspective, “an eye turned in no particular direction” (Genealogy of Morals, Third Essay, §12). There is no “knowing in itself,” only a “perspective knowing.” So how then should philosophical reflection proceed? Certainly not by a disinterested search for absolute truth, since “disinterested searches” are impossible and “absolute truth” is contradictory. Rather, we should gladly take up our perspective, as we’ve always done, only now we should recognize it as a perspective and not pretend that it is the universal “view from nowhere.” The project of philosophy then consists in collecting, comparing and analyzing different perspectives, since, as Nietzsche puts it, “the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our “concept” of this thing, our “objectivity,” be” (Genealogy of Morals, Third Essay, §12). It’s important to note that this view is not a relativistic view, since we are not saying “What I think is true is true and what you think is true is also true.” Rather, the idea here is that each of us is situated in a particular context and when we reflect, it is from a certain historical, cultural, economic, geographic (etc.) location. From our particular location, we are able to see certain truths, but not others. Activist perspectives are likely to yield interesting truths, since, for one thing, we occupy a space that is different from and often overlooked by a more mainstream perspective. One of the main projects of feminist philosophy has been to expose the perspective of white, “leisure class” men (which for so long had been parading as the “universal” perspective) for what it is: one perspective which, while seeing some truths, has been blind to many others; a perspective distorted by its delusions of impartiality and objectivity. Of course any perspective, including an activist perspective, can become distorted. One common criticism of the western feminist movement of the 1960s and 1970s was that it took up the perspective of white, middle class women and ignored the perspectives of many others. The psychological burdens of being a housewife can be (and were) thoroughly explored from such a perspective, but another perspective is needed to philosophically analyze the burdens a black women would face while working as nanny in a white person’s home. The problem here isn’t that the perspective did not yield any truths (it did) but rather the perspective became distorted when it mistakenly assumed it represented more women that it really did. The line between a perspective and a distortion is not clear. Preventing a perspective from becoming distorted may require a constant reexamining of the perspectives we take up and the truths we think they yield. In her book The Atrocity Paradigm, Card uses a sowing analogy to illustrate the dangers and promise of having a certain perspective, slant or bias: “A fabric cut on the bias is a cut across the grain; the cut is slanted in relation to the grid of threads. To keep the threads true as you continue to work, you run a loose line of “stay-stitches” along the path of the cut. Stay-stitching keeps the threads in place so they do not bend every which way, distorting the fabric out of shape” (32). Perspectives (or slants, approaches) are like cuts along the bias: incredibly important but vulnerable to distortion. It seems then that activism need not be in tension with philosophy. If doing philosophy is at least in part a project of taking up and analyzing perspectives, surely activism can inform such a project. As long as we are careful about avoiding the distortions to which our perspectives are vulnerable, our activist perspectives and the experiences from which they arise need not detract from or distort philosophical reflection. Rather activist experience can be an important philosophical resource. So far my arguments have been to show that activism is not in tension with philosophy. But what about the other way round: Is philosophical reflection in tension with activism? After all, just thinking about things doesn’t get anything done. Philosophy is about thinking, activism is about doing. Of course, activists will often subscribe to this or that philosophical theory, but what we need to ask is this: does doing philosophy impede doing activism? Indian philosopher Krishnamurti notes that, since no philosophical analysis is complete, it only leads to more analysis, which therefore leads to inaction. He writes, “…if my analysis is not complete, then what I have analyzed becomes the knowledge with which I proceed to analyze the next layer. So in that process each analysis becomes incomplete and leads to further conflict, and so to inaction” (The Awakening of Intelligence, “Inner Revolution” p. 61). I’ll call this the “analysis means paralysis” view. I think the “analysis means paralysis” view is a little misleading. One problem is that it draws too sharp a distinction between thinking and doing. It assumes that if one is reflecting, then one isn’t acting. But consider the way one becomes an activist. Being an activist, that is having an activist perspective, requires that you see the world in a certain way. An activist has a raised awareness of certain events or processes happening around her, an awareness that others don’t have and that she herself had to learn. But one comes to have this awareness through reflection, by carefully debunking “common sense” views of the world. Of course some activists were raised as activists by activist parents and in these cases it is less clear if the activist perspective is inherited or chosen. But for those of us who become activists, reflection is essential. Not only is reflection a perquisite for becoming an activist, I think that philosophical reflection can itself be activist. Most women become feminists through some sort of formal or informal consciousness-raising. This process requires women to seriously reflect on our own experiences and those of other women we know. Many things happen when a woman’s consciousness is raised. Not only does her behavior change, but her entire way of seeing the world is radically altered. She now sees things that were invisible to her before (for a great discussion on what it is like to have a raised consciousness, see Sandra Bartky’s “Toward a Phenomenology of Feminist Consciousness”). What is interesting about consciousness-raising for our purposes is that it is a kind of philosophical reflection that, as Bartky writes, “is not only a causal factor in the emergence of the feminist movement itself but also an important part of its political program” (12). Here, reflection is activist. Moreover, the “analysis means paralysis” objection can’t by itself rule out a philosophical approach to activism, since doing philosophy involves more than analysis. In fact Krishnamurti, while objecting to an analysis-based approach to social change, does advocate an anti-analytical (but still philosophical) kind of revolution. According to him, the real social revolution is inside you it is an “inner revolution.” Krishnamurti recognizes the urgent need for social change, but argues that no change, no matter how good, can be sustained without changing the patterns of thought and behavior of individuals. He writes, “In a corrupt society, such as [America], in Europe, India and elsewhere, there must be fundamental changes in the very structure of society. And if man remains corrupt in himself, in his activity, he will overcome whatever the structure be, however perfect; therefore it is imperative, absolutely essential that he change” (The Awakening of Intelligence, “Inner Revolution” p.59) While I won’t pursue the details of Krishnamurti’s view here (for more, read his “Inner Revolution”), I think that his general point about inner revolution, and the related points on consciousness-raising, are important. It seems to me to be an activist requires not only exhibiting a certain kind of behavior but also thinking and relating to the world in a certain way. Krishnamurti’s point is that these two aspects of activism are related; in fact his claim is that activist behavior will never culminate in any lasting results without a corresponding change in the way we think. So, if activists are concerned with ‘doing things’ and ‘taking action’, we should also be concerned with cultivating the right ways of thinking and relating to the world, not only in others but also in ourselves. There are certainly some very general ways in which philosophy and activism are in tension with each other. But I think that, once we reflect on what it really means to “do philosophy” and “do activism,” we find that these two projects are not only compatible but in fact mutually supportive. If the project of philosophy is in part a process of compiling and analyzing different perspectives (and I think it is), then activist perspectives should be of special interest to philosophers, especially those of us who do ethics and political philosophy. If being an activist requires not only “activist behavior” but a change in the way we think about ourselves and the world, then philosophical reflection is an indispensable part of both becoming an activist and sustaining activism. Emily McRae is a graduate student in philosophy at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. Her interests include feminism, political philosophy and Buddhist ethics. |