Okay, could I ask you for just a couple more details? It seems like a big moving part in your description is saving the world, and another is leading a fulfilling life. What do you mean by these things?
That’s a very large question, and my answer will depend on where you’re coming from and where you want to take this discussion. You probably have your own intuitive conception of where, in some general terms, you’d like the world to go. ‘Philosophy’ is a largely artificial, arbitrary, and unhelpful schema, and you owe it no fealty. So my main goal was not to persuade you to adopt my own vision of a happier and more rational world. It was to motivate you to reframe what teaching a ‘philosophy’ class is in a way that makes you more likely to exploit this opportunity to move the world infinitesimally closer to your own vision for the world.
If I were teaching an Intro to Philosophy class, I might break it down as follows:
Part 1: Destroy students’ complacence. Spend a few weeks methodically annihilating students’ barriers, prejudices, thought-terminating clichés, and safety nets. Don’t frame the discussion as ‘philosophy.’ Frame it as follows:
“OK, we’re trying to understand the world, and get what we want out of life. And we can’t just rely on authorities, common sense, or usual practice; those predictably fail. So we’ll need to reason our way to understanding the world. But our reasoning itself seems infirm. When we debate, we hit walls. Our ignorance corrodes our predictions. We let language and concepts confuse us. We don’t entertain enough possibilities, and we don’t weight them fairly. Paradox, ambiguity, and arbitrariness seems to threaten our human projects at every turn. Is it really possible for us to patch our buggy brains to any significant extent?”
The answer is Yes. But the best way to reach that conclusion is to test how much our own capacities can improve in practice. And the best test will be for us to take a few of the most fundamental riddles humans have devised, and see whether we can resolve or dissolve them by introducing more rigor and creativity to our thinking.
Part 2: Incrementally build students’ confidence back up. Spend about 3⁄5 of the course focusing very closely on one or two simple, readable, accessible, counter-intuitive analytic philosophy texts in epistemology/metaphysics (like Perry’s or Berkeley’s dialogues), teaching students that making progress in understanding and critically assessing good arguments requires rigor and patience, and, just as importantly, that they are capable of exercising the rigor and patience needed to make important progress on deep issues.
In other words, this part of the course is about trying very hard to impress students regarding the utility and value of carefully reasoning about very general questions — these issues are hard — without intimidating them into thinking they as individuals are ‘non-philosophers’ or ‘non-intellectuals,’ and without motivating them to despairingly or triumphantly regress to an ‘oh it’s all so mysterious’ relativism. It’s a precarious lesson to teach — making them skeptical enough, but not too skeptical! — but an indispensable one. And the best way to teach it is by concretely empowering them to think better, and letting them see the results for themselves. Acquaint students with a variety of tricks and techniques for analyzing and evaluating arguments, including deductive logic, Bayesian empiricism, semantics, and pragmatics.
Part 3: Make students put it all into practice. Coming up for air from these deep metaphysical and epistemological waters, spend the last 3-4 weeks talking about how to use these philosophical doctrines and techniques in daily life. I’m imagining something in between a CFAR course and a whirlwind tour of existentialism. This will engage and inspire students who are a bit more continental than analytic in temperament, while reiterating that the same very careful techniques of reasoning can be applied (a) to everyday life-decisions, and (b) to even more abstract and difficult riddles than might initially have seemed possible. Ideally, the pragmatism and humanism of this part of the course should also help finish disenchanting any remaining relativists, positivists, and hyper-skeptics in the class. (Or is it re-enchanting?)
First of all, thanks for putting so much time and thought into your reply. Your class plan is well thought out and interesting, but I think you and I are standing on opposite sides of a substantial inferential revine. So far as I could tell, you answer to my two questions were the following:
1) What would it mean to save the world? To bring about, however incrementally, my vision for the world.
2) What does it mean to live a fulfilling life? To get what one wants.
These two answers seems to place very great confidence in my (or my students) vision for the world, and my (or my students) desires. I take it, however, that one of the more serious philosophical questions we should be discussing is what our vision for the world should be, and what we should want. So by saying you don’t want to persuade me to adopt your own vision for the world, etc. it seems to me you skipped the most important part of the question. That’s exactly what I’d need to know in order to structure a course well.
Otherwise, if I teach my students to be more effective at getting what they want and bringing about their vision, while what they want is harmful and their vision is terrible, then I’ll be doing them and everyone else a great deal of harm.
1) What would it mean to save the world? To bring about, however incrementally, my vision for the world.
That’s not the meaning of ‘save the world.’ I just took it for granted that the preservation of human-like things would probably be part of your vision.
2) What does it mean to live a fulfilling life? To get what one wants.
Better: To get what one would most want, given perfect knowledge, computational capacities, and reasoning skills. (At least, this would be closer to the optimally fulfilling life.)
These two answers seems to place very great confidence in my (or my students) vision for the world, and my (or my students) desires.
We’re humans. We don’t have anyone to appeal to but ourselves and each other.
So by saying you don’t want to persuade me to adopt your own vision for the world, etc. it seems to me you skipped the most important part of the question.
Sure. Though you can read a fair amount of that out of what I did tell you about course layout.
if I teach my students to be more effective at getting what they want and bringing about their vision, while what they want is harmful and their vision is terrible
There are two questions here. First, are people’s most profound and reflective goals in the end perverse and destructive? If so, then humanity may do better if kept in ignorance than if enlightened.
Second, can we teach people to re-evaluate and improve their values? Their current vision may be ‘terrible,’ but part of teaching people to understand how to attain their values is teaching people how to recognize, assess, and revise their values. This is an essential component of Part 3 of the course structure.
Acting may be very dangerous. But doing nothing is far more dangerous.
There are two questions here. First, are people’s most profound and reflective goals in the end perverse and destructive? If so, then humanity may do better if kept in ignorance than if enlightened.
No, I agree with you that there is a right thing to want, and a right vision of the world, and that we can by learning at least some closer to understanding and realizing these things. This last post was helpful, and I see that we disagree less than I thought we did. Really, I think the only substantial difference between our two course designs is selection of texts, and that I think part 2 should be a larger part of the course, and should focus more directly on the question of what is right, what there is, etc. (incidentally, I only have 10 weeks, with two meetings per week to work with). Aside from ethics (which we learn in order to be better people), philosophy is in general not a means to an end, so I don’t think there’s as much a question of application.
10 weeks is pretty short! Sounds like a good challenge. I was assuming 16 weeks while trying to lay out a simple curriculum last night, and I got the following structure:
I. The Problem of Doubt
Week 1: What are we doing here?
Week 2: Case studies in ignorance and error
Week 3: Case studies in irrationality and arbitrariness
Week 4: Evaluating arguments
Week 5: Descartes and certainty
Week 6: Reasoning with uncertainty
II. The Problem of Death
Week 7: Test case: The immortality of the soul
Week 8: How to want to change your mind
Week 9: Test case: The self
Week 10: Learning how to learn things
III. The Problem of Life
Week 11: Vagueness, ambiguity, and semantics
Week 12: Meta-ethical confusions
Week 13: Rationality and decision theory
Week 14: Existentialism, nihilism, and pragmatism
Week 15: “Know thyself” and discovering your values
Okay, could I ask you for just a couple more details? It seems like a big moving part in your description is saving the world, and another is leading a fulfilling life. What do you mean by these things?
That’s a very large question, and my answer will depend on where you’re coming from and where you want to take this discussion. You probably have your own intuitive conception of where, in some general terms, you’d like the world to go. ‘Philosophy’ is a largely artificial, arbitrary, and unhelpful schema, and you owe it no fealty. So my main goal was not to persuade you to adopt my own vision of a happier and more rational world. It was to motivate you to reframe what teaching a ‘philosophy’ class is in a way that makes you more likely to exploit this opportunity to move the world infinitesimally closer to your own vision for the world.
If I were teaching an Intro to Philosophy class, I might break it down as follows:
Part 1: Destroy students’ complacence. Spend a few weeks methodically annihilating students’ barriers, prejudices, thought-terminating clichés, and safety nets. Don’t frame the discussion as ‘philosophy.’ Frame it as follows:
“OK, we’re trying to understand the world, and get what we want out of life. And we can’t just rely on authorities, common sense, or usual practice; those predictably fail. So we’ll need to reason our way to understanding the world. But our reasoning itself seems infirm. When we debate, we hit walls. Our ignorance corrodes our predictions. We let language and concepts confuse us. We don’t entertain enough possibilities, and we don’t weight them fairly. Paradox, ambiguity, and arbitrariness seems to threaten our human projects at every turn. Is it really possible for us to patch our buggy brains to any significant extent?”
The answer is Yes. But the best way to reach that conclusion is to test how much our own capacities can improve in practice. And the best test will be for us to take a few of the most fundamental riddles humans have devised, and see whether we can resolve or dissolve them by introducing more rigor and creativity to our thinking.
Part 2: Incrementally build students’ confidence back up. Spend about 3⁄5 of the course focusing very closely on one or two simple, readable, accessible, counter-intuitive analytic philosophy texts in epistemology/metaphysics (like Perry’s or Berkeley’s dialogues), teaching students that making progress in understanding and critically assessing good arguments requires rigor and patience, and, just as importantly, that they are capable of exercising the rigor and patience needed to make important progress on deep issues.
In other words, this part of the course is about trying very hard to impress students regarding the utility and value of carefully reasoning about very general questions — these issues are hard — without intimidating them into thinking they as individuals are ‘non-philosophers’ or ‘non-intellectuals,’ and without motivating them to despairingly or triumphantly regress to an ‘oh it’s all so mysterious’ relativism. It’s a precarious lesson to teach — making them skeptical enough, but not too skeptical! — but an indispensable one. And the best way to teach it is by concretely empowering them to think better, and letting them see the results for themselves. Acquaint students with a variety of tricks and techniques for analyzing and evaluating arguments, including deductive logic, Bayesian empiricism, semantics, and pragmatics.
Part 3: Make students put it all into practice. Coming up for air from these deep metaphysical and epistemological waters, spend the last 3-4 weeks talking about how to use these philosophical doctrines and techniques in daily life. I’m imagining something in between a CFAR course and a whirlwind tour of existentialism. This will engage and inspire students who are a bit more continental than analytic in temperament, while reiterating that the same very careful techniques of reasoning can be applied (a) to everyday life-decisions, and (b) to even more abstract and difficult riddles than might initially have seemed possible. Ideally, the pragmatism and humanism of this part of the course should also help finish disenchanting any remaining relativists, positivists, and hyper-skeptics in the class. (Or is it re-enchanting?)
How’s that sound to you?
2 questions:
How do I sign up?
Who do I give my money to?
It sounds like an abridged Eightfold Path.
First of all, thanks for putting so much time and thought into your reply. Your class plan is well thought out and interesting, but I think you and I are standing on opposite sides of a substantial inferential revine. So far as I could tell, you answer to my two questions were the following:
1) What would it mean to save the world? To bring about, however incrementally, my vision for the world.
2) What does it mean to live a fulfilling life? To get what one wants.
These two answers seems to place very great confidence in my (or my students) vision for the world, and my (or my students) desires. I take it, however, that one of the more serious philosophical questions we should be discussing is what our vision for the world should be, and what we should want. So by saying you don’t want to persuade me to adopt your own vision for the world, etc. it seems to me you skipped the most important part of the question. That’s exactly what I’d need to know in order to structure a course well.
Otherwise, if I teach my students to be more effective at getting what they want and bringing about their vision, while what they want is harmful and their vision is terrible, then I’ll be doing them and everyone else a great deal of harm.
That’s not the meaning of ‘save the world.’ I just took it for granted that the preservation of human-like things would probably be part of your vision.
Better: To get what one would most want, given perfect knowledge, computational capacities, and reasoning skills. (At least, this would be closer to the optimally fulfilling life.)
We’re humans. We don’t have anyone to appeal to but ourselves and each other.
Sure. Though you can read a fair amount of that out of what I did tell you about course layout.
There are two questions here. First, are people’s most profound and reflective goals in the end perverse and destructive? If so, then humanity may do better if kept in ignorance than if enlightened.
Second, can we teach people to re-evaluate and improve their values? Their current vision may be ‘terrible,’ but part of teaching people to understand how to attain their values is teaching people how to recognize, assess, and revise their values. This is an essential component of Part 3 of the course structure.
Acting may be very dangerous. But doing nothing is far more dangerous.
No, I agree with you that there is a right thing to want, and a right vision of the world, and that we can by learning at least some closer to understanding and realizing these things. This last post was helpful, and I see that we disagree less than I thought we did. Really, I think the only substantial difference between our two course designs is selection of texts, and that I think part 2 should be a larger part of the course, and should focus more directly on the question of what is right, what there is, etc. (incidentally, I only have 10 weeks, with two meetings per week to work with). Aside from ethics (which we learn in order to be better people), philosophy is in general not a means to an end, so I don’t think there’s as much a question of application.
10 weeks is pretty short! Sounds like a good challenge. I was assuming 16 weeks while trying to lay out a simple curriculum last night, and I got the following structure:
I. The Problem of Doubt
II. The Problem of Death
III. The Problem of Life