Fr. Ranie Aquino writes about what's written all over my face since July.
Published 25 August 2008 at the Manila Standard Today.
WHAT PHILOSOPHERS DOBy Fr. Ranhilio Callangan Aquino
COMIUCAP is the acronym for “Conference Mondiale des Institutions Universitaires Catholiques de Philosophie”—The World Conference of Catholic University Institutions of Philosophy. It is meeting in Manila on Sept. 11 to 13. It is certainly a global event for philosophers, philosophy professors, students and dabblers. Not much is heard about it because, in the Philippines, those who bother about philosophy in more than a casual manner may very well qualify to be on the “endangered list.” Dr. Leovino Garcia, long a prominent figure in philosophy in our own part of the world and dean of the Loyola Schools at Ateneo de Manila University until recently, is the conference organizer. Jean Luc Marion, a revered name in the contemporary philosophical study of religion, will be the main plenary lecturer. Dr. Alfredo Co of the University of Santo Tomas will also be a plenary speaker. I will read a paper for one of the workshop sessions.
So what is this? A gathering of idle chatterers? It is the great misfortune of philosophy to be constantly put to work but seldom recognized for what it is. For some time, the sway that science and technology enjoyed over the discourse not only of academe but of the everyday world seemed to have banished philosophy to the fringes of worthwhile human concerns. Philosophers did not produce as scientists and mechanics did, therefore, they had little, if anything at all, to contribute to humankind. But we have learned better, I hope, and there has been disenchantment with science. Not that we do not need it, but that we realize its limits and the fact that it is not self-validating. Astounding developments have allowed the cloning of higher and higher orders of animalia. Cloning a human being seems to be just around the corner. But should we, ought we? It does not seem to belong to the province of science to provide an answer to such a threshold question.
There are different ways philosophers describe what it is they do. For some time, Aristotle’s distinction between proximate and ultimate causes seemed to offer a plausible ground for philosophizing. Pushing inquiry to its furthest limits in respect of anything at all—this seems to have been the insight underlying Aristotle’s claim of territory for philosophy: The ultimate causes and principles of things. We have not entirely rid ourselves of Aristotle’s spell, nor does it seem desirable to do so. Paleontologists and anthropologists have given us the progression of hominid species. At the end of the procession of fossil finds and genealogical trees, one is justified in asking: When did the human person first make his appearance? Immediately, the question strikes a different key and compels the thinker to shift gears. This is no longer a question to which an answer can be given by a closer examination of bones and artifacts. It is a question of what used to be called “the essence” of what it is to be human. What makes one human? Ayer once usefully suggested that unlike the scientist whose concern it is to unearth data, the philosopher is called upon to describe the facts made available. Do you call this interesting biped that asks questions, builds sophisticated habitation, ornaments and paints himself, and enters into interesting relations with others human or not? That is not a question that can be answered by more data. It is a question that calls on you to describe the data at hand.
Understood this way, it is not difficult to arrive at the realization that there is in fact so much philosophy that we do without acknowledging that we are doing it—and this is exactly why things can turn bad. If there is anything that can make a claim to global recognition, it is human rights. But what is it that makes the human person worthy of respect? More concretely, what are these and why should they be human rights? If bold claims are made for human rights, then quite obviously these questions cannot go unanswered, and such nebulous concepts as “inherent dignity” will not be left unexamined.
Talk to any youngster today about promiscuity, for example, as wrong and you will get the retort: “What is wrong to you may be right for me.” You Light Up My Life puts the philosophical position of many of today’s youngsters so succinctly: “It can’t be wrong if it feels so right.” To many, this is a good posture. What it is in fact is some form of relativism that is at best a highly questionable philosophical posture. At one time in my teaching career, one student complained that philosophy was abstract. I had to give him the disappointing answer that it was meant to be abstract and it is purposely abstract! That is of course no reason for a teacher of philosophy to turn students off by being deliberately incomprehensible—and this happens quite often when the teacher has not himself done good philosophy. He passes his own confusion to his students. But philosophy is in fact eminently practical in the sense that the way we live of our lives is a consequence of the philosophical positions we take. Loving another person unselfishly rests on the philosophical premise that it is meaningful and fulfilling to love. And it is philosophical reflection likewise that spurs us to ask whether it is in fact love with which I encounter the other, or one of its counterfeits. In fact, even the movement that goes by the moniker “postmodernism” has a significant social dimension to it. Whatever may be said against the articulations of its iconic figures, the distrust for what are called “meta-narratives” or pretensions at comprehensive accounts is in fact born of the recognition that putting on airs at giving an explanation for all things marginalized many others who had other explanations. The restiveness with which minorities, whether ethnic or religious, for example, make their presence felt is a consequence of the canonization of narratives and the confinement of others to the margins.
Philosophy is the reflective moment of humankind. It is that which allows us to distance ourselves from what we do and what we achieve. It is much-needed self-criticism. The passion for justice is vacuous without a thoughtful consideration of what justice is and what demands it makes. Similarly, in the philosophy of the law, while we have always believed that crime must be punished, it is worth our while asking how inflicting some detriment upon the offender—such as a loss of freedom or property (and in jurisdictions that still execute—life) makes society and life in society any better. I am not saying it does not. I only insist that the question should be raised and critically answered.
There is another tradition to philosophy—many times known as the analytic tradition. What it demands is that we be responsible about the terms we use and that we be able to give a logical account of the way we use them. If you label philosophy as “useless” for example, then you must be prepared with a logical account of what is “useful” and how philosophy fails this test.
It is a meeting of people with such concerns that will take place this September.
