Nonetheless, these concepts above are presented as rede- scriptive alternatives in the history of philosophy. None of them offers any epistemic Archimedean point from which we can say that one description is more appropriate or adequate than an- other. In other words, our conceptual descriptions are contin- gent upon one another. This posit does not deny that some self- descriptions are more influential than others, it claims, however, that the influence of one self-description over another is due to the power relations available at the time it makes its appearance and not because of its epistemic superiority over others. An example will suffice; the Hegelian self-description of Africa as a “dark continent” has been rebutted but this does not imply that it has stopped being influential as a concept in the history of philosophy. The criterion of truth does not imply here; since in the case of the history of philosophy, truth can be sought from any sources of knowledge and relevance can be sought from what is interesting and significant;
have the intuitions that they do. By studying these processes, experimental philosophers take themselves to be getting at certain fundamental issues about the way people ordinarily understand their world… Perhaps the claim [from analytic philosophers] is that research on the most fundamental concepts people use to understand themselves and their world doesn’t really count as “philosophy.” But this claim seems a bit hopeless and bizarre. It is not as though experimental philosophers are involved in some sort of radical departure from the traditional problems of philosophy. In fact the chronology is just the opposite. For most of the history of philosophy, questions about human nature and the nature of cognition were absolutely central. Then, for a comparatively brief period, many philosophers forsook these problems in favor of problems that had a more technical character. Experimental philosophy now seeks a return to the traditional problems of philosophy, the problems that played such a prominent role in the work of Plato, Aristotle and so many of their successors. (Knobe 2007, 89-91)
Nevertheless, I’m not so sure that Kenny, the Wittgenstein sympathiser, has actually let himself down in refusing to pass over that of which he cannot speak into silence. After all, he offers his history of philosophy to his readers with the explicit caveat that in many cases he will ‘write of necessity as an amateur rather than an expert’ (xvi). It will be a cold day in hell before Anthony Kenny claims to be a Derrida expert, of course, so perhaps the lack of respect with which he treats Derrida’s work, as well as his lack of any acknowledgment he pays to Adorno, Bergson, Foucault, Deleuze and Rorty, to mention only five of the more obvious omissions, can perhaps be excused as the inevitable shortcomings of a history of philosophy written in an age of intellectual fragmentation and specialisation– an age he has diagnosed. In as much as one reviewer might take issue with the way in which Kenny has engaged with Derrida, so too another reviewer might well challenge the account of Plantinga with which he closes. Perhaps, in the end, it is asking too much of any single person, however much they have read and however carefully, to give an authoritative account of the history of philosophy. What Randall Collins and W.K.C. Guthrie said of their histories of philosophy, Anthony Kenny has no doubt also thought of his own: ‘it seemed better to finish the work in my own lifetime’ (Collins, 1998: xix).
But more to the point, where does all this leave the new enterprise we are initiating in Pittsburgh this weekend? Is there room for yet another permutation of the busy combination of H, P, and S? The aim of the new society is to promote work that blends history and philosophy of science in a single unified inquiry. The motif of integration could easily be misunderstood if it were taken to propose that history of science and philosophy of science should lose their separate identities as distinct ways of approach to the sciences, each with its own methods and concerns. This is clearly out of the question for a whole variety of reasons. No, the aim of our joint venture is much more modest. It is simply to secure a place for work that does further the interests of both sides simultaneously, without for a moment suggesting that this is the only model to be followed.
Ceruzzi 1988, esp. pp. 265–270, contains a history of the phrase ‘computer science’. In a re- sponse to a letter that appeared in one of the earliest issues of Communications of the ACM, an editor (possibly Alan J. Perlis, whom we will meet again below) listed several, admittedly “facetious”, names, including ‘turingineering’, ‘turology’, ‘applied meta-mathematics’, and ‘ap- plied epistemology’ (DATA-LINK, 1958, p. 6). (The first two are puns on the name of Alan Turing, arguably the founder of the discipline, whom we will discuss in Chapter 8. We’ll come back to “applied epistemology” in §3.14.4, below.) In 1966, Peter Naur (a winner of the Turing Award) suggested ‘datalogy’ (Naur, 2007, p. 86). A useful discussion of these terms can be found in Arden 1980, pp. 5–7, “About Names and Labels”. Abrahams 1987, p. 473, says: “My personal definition of the field and its name would be ‘computology: the study of computational processes and the means by which they may be realized.’ But alas, the name ‘computer science,’ like OS/360 Job Control Language, will probably persist until the sun grows cold.”
Abstract Adorno’s philosophy inherited and developed Marx’s critical philosophy of history from the perspective of philosophy of history. Marx advanced the two principles in his philosophy of history: one is the criticism of capital or reason, the other the criticism of morality or culture. Adorn took the two principles to research into the cultural industry in late capitalism and rethink Auschwitz, while he criticized Enlightenment reason and developed Marx’s concept of the critical philosophy of history at the microcosmic level of human nature. In the critique of the cultural industry, Adorno first pointed out the essence of the capitalization of the cultural industry. He emphasized that the so-called cultural industry is to turn culture into industrial production and become a sector in the economy, subjecting it to the need for capital accumulation. Therefore, economic benefit, that is, maximizing the acquisition of currency, becomes the inherent power and direct purpose of cultural development, which will inevitably lead to a complete alienation of culture from content to form. Furthermore, he reflected the spirit of enlightenment, emphasizing that the essence of the enlightening spirit was deceit and lies, and it was through deception and lies that the cultural industry stepped out of its place of production and had an impact on people's leisure, entertainment, consumption, and the entire way of life. In the reflection on Auschwitz, Adorno presents a profound philosophical question: ‘Can on live after Auschwitz?’ This issue is a search for the value of human life, and is also a condemnation of the barbaric practices of imperialism, even more a reflection on the history of human civilization. Adorno uses the principles of moral criticism of Marx's critical historical philosophy, criticizes the enlightenment spirit with a mode of civilized and barbaric dialectics, and pointed out that the deceptive elements of the spirit of enlightenment was the cultural roots of imperialist barbarism, in which he developed Marx's critical historical philosophy on the micro level in studying this issue. On this basis, he constructed the metaphysics of culture taking the concept of negation as core and presented the character of criticism of culture in Marx’s critical philosophy of history.
Much has been written on the Cambridge School of Intellectual History, not least by its leading exponents, who seem to have entered a phase of self-memorialization. With the awe-inspiring eloquence that brought him many admirers, Quentin Skinner has given countless interviews in the last fifteen years, recalling his own intellectual socialization and constructing a compelling narrative of the School's evolution. Apparently it all started in the 1960s. Peter Laslett, a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, published his pathbreaking edition of John Locke's Two Treatises of Government in 1960, an edition which placed the classic firmly in the historical context preceding the Glorious Revolu- tion of 1688, thereby altering the treatises' interpretation for generations to come (they had traditionally been viewed as a celebration of the Revolution). 25 John Pocock pub- lished his first methodological inquiries into the history of political thought in 1962 as part of an important series founded and co-edited by Laslett. 26 John Dunn, a fellow of King's College, Cambridge, followed suit with reflections on the "identity" of the his- tory of ideas, which appeared in 1968 and made the case for a fundamental revision of the history of philosophy in general and the history of political thought in particu- lar. Mocking the "bloodlessness" and unhistorical nature of a field preoccupied with Platonic ideas and reified reconstructions of "great books", Dunn argued in favour of a history of thought that rendered thinking a "social activity" and that investigated the question as to what thinkers were "doing" in saying things, that is, when they engaged in "speech acts" (John Austin) in a particular context at a particular time. 27
To understand the treatment of these issues in art history, one needs some sense of the recent history of artists’ interest in photography, in particular the prehistory of the present moment of pictorial photography in earlier conceptual and postconceptual practices, which valued photog- raphy insofar as it might be thought to bracket, rather than exert, artistic agency and authorial control. This is manifest in these earlier artists’ pref- erence for unpretentious snapshot effects, documentary value, and dead- pan antiaesthetic qualities, as well as in their use of photography for appropriating and recycling existing imagery. The historical trajectory usually describes a protoconceptual moment in the sixties led by the work of Ed Ruscha and Bernd and Hilla Becher, followed by the seventies gen- eration of fully fledged conceptual artists who made extensive use of pho- tography—such as Douglas Huebler, Keith Arnatt, John Hilliard, and Victor Burgin—followed by the eighties pictures generation of artists such as Cindy Sherman, Sherrie Levine, and Richard Prince. 15 What such artists
Teaching is an important aspect of scientific practice. However, as Lorraine Daston has recently remarked, “we have only the barest beginnings of a history of scientific pedagogy and not even the rudiments of a philosophy” (Daston 2008, 106). Daston refers to some historical studies on scientific education, including the collection of studies edited by David Kaiser (Kaiser 2005). In the concluding chapter, Kaiser and Andrew Warwick provide some general reflections on the usefulness of the works of Thomas Kuhn and Michel Foucault for a philosophy of scientific education (Kaiser and Warwick 2005). Kaiser and Warwick refer to Joseph Rouse, who incorporated insights from both philosophers in his philosophy of scientific practice. However, Kaiser and Warwick merely refer to Rouse as a reader and interpreter of Kuhn and Foucault. In this paper, I will argue that Rouse’s philosophy of scientific practice deserves to be studied in its own right and that his conceptualisation of scientific practices has important implications for the study of scientific education.
As one traces back through the history of a current theory, one finds various alternatives. This historical research opens up a space of theoretical possibilities that were earlier rejected, or not considered, but in the light of current problems, may seem interesting and suggestive. Stephen J. Gould often mines the history of science in search of alternatives to neo-Darwinism, for example. His claims about ‘the hardening of the Neo-darwinian synthesis’ are claims that a variety of theoretical options available for exploration in the early work of people like Sewall Wright and George G. Simpson were simply not pursued. Why weren’t they? Should they have been? Would those options help us with some of the foundational problems in evolutionary biology today? These are historical questions with philosophical pay-offs.
[Reviewed in Novel 33 (1999): 122-24; Albion 32 (2000): 654-56; Philosophy and Literature 24 (2000): 490-93; Studies in English Literature 40 (2000): 585-86; South Atlantic Review 65 (2000): 174-77; TLS (22 Dec. 2000): 24; History of Education Quarterly 41 (2001): 274-76; 18th-Century Fiction 13 (2001): 593-95; History of Education 30.2 (2001): 202-3; 18th- Century Studies 35 (2002): 137-39; British Journal for 18th-Century Studies 25 (2002): 271- 72; The Age of Johnson 13 (2002): 610-13.]
If anti-intellectualism is the chief vice of historicism, that of scientism is arrogance. It is arrogant and arrant nonsense to think that we are, for whatever reason, so much more advanced and better in our techniques than our forbears that we can afford to ignore their efforts, and like a mathematician or pharmacologist confine our reading and citation to works less than five years old. If we are so much better now, why have the perennial problems continued to resist solution? True, some have been solved or at least tamed, but many have not. Philosophy simply is not like an empirical science whose results pass into textbooks and are learnt as facts by the next generation. Science wears its historical heritage lightly, and can afford to do so. Philosophy cannot. The very terms in which philosophers pose their questions are historically loaded. Frege once said that concepts (such as the concept of inertia) have no history. 3 He was a Platonist about concepts. There might be a history of our various more or less confused attempts to grasp this or that concept such as that of inertia or that of number. But not only is Frege’s concept of concept ahistorical, it is unusable. A concept is not a Platonic entity but an abstraction whose concrete basis lies in the myriad thoughts, utterances and actions of people which together constitute “use of the concept”. There is no way to tell whether such an abstraction corresponds well or ill to a transcendent Platonic meaning or
In order to give a specific example of the above mentioned difficulty I adduce a rather long fragment of William Desmond‘s essay ‗Thinking on the Double: The Equivocities of Dialectic.‘: ‗The first opposition or doublet is: On the one hand, Hegel has been with Goethe against Newton, and for resorting to a priori reasoning accused of ‗panlogism,‘ and on the other hand, of being the progenitor of ‗irrationalism‘ in his successors. One views Hegel as marked by an excess of logic, the other by an excess of illogic, masquerading as logic…On the one hand, Hegel is excessively religious, to the point of ‗mystifying‘ the processes of reality; on the other hand, he is an insidious ‗atheist,‘ equivocally masking his godlessness in a categorial system that seems to sing a hymn to God.…Here Hegel is seen, on the one hand, as supremely a foundationalist, insofar as all of being and thought seem to be reducible to one absolute principle, named the idea or Geist, or simply the absolute. On the other hand, Hegel is said to be an essentially historicist thinker who deconstructs the metaphysical appeal to eternal foundations. Hegel as foundationalist is the philosopher of absolute identity, Hegel as historicist/deconstructionist is the first philosopher of difference, as the high priest of deconstruction, Derrida himself, put it. Hegel is Hegel, but he is also other than Hegel; Hegel is the first post-Hegelian philosopher…In the first case, Hegel is accused of being an enemy of science, for criticizing empirical and mathematical science, siding in his philosophy of nature. Hegelian ‗science‘ is only metaphoric imagination. In the second case, he is accused of lacking metaphoric imagination, of not being sensitive enough to art, proclaiming its end, of making excessive claims for his science of philosophy as putatively subordinating art and religious to its own absolute comprehension. He seems to be either too scientific or not scientific enough, too metaphorical or not metaphorical enough. He is too much of one or the other, or too little, or perhaps even not one or the other. What strange figure is this?‘ The International Library of Critical Essays in the History of Philosophy, HEGEL, vol.II, edited by David Lamb, ‗Thinking on the Double: The Equivocities of Dialectic‘ by William Desmond, pp.225-226, (London: Darmouth Publishing Company Limited, Ashgate Publishing Limited, 1998).
Big cases are particularly prone to the underdetermination problem of HPS (see the introduction to this volume by Sauer and Scholl): the same historical episode is usually told again and again in different philosophical terms, which raises concerns that philosophical concepts hinder rather than help our understanding of science. Most influential scientists have had multiple careers in the literature: as good in- ductivists, as resourceful hypothetico-deductivists, as epistemically cautious Poppe- rian falsificationists, perhaps as methodological anarchists, and finally as contingent products of mostly social forces. Not all of these accounts can be true, but deciding among them is hindered by the fact that the key questions often concern cognitive processes of past scientists – to which we have little access. The best defense against the mindless retelling of big cases according to prevailing philosophical fashion is not, however, to retreat to some form of historical positivism, but to take the cyclical model of HPS seriously: We must consider a wide range of cases from the history of science, use them to improve our conceptual tools, and deploy these tools to un- derstand episodes at different levels of importance. We will have more to say about how cases are used to evaluate and refine concepts in section 5.
Our investigation requires that we take a step back and look at the phenomenon in a more primordial way, i.e. something apriori that conditions thinking about the future of development economics. It is our intuition that a ‘special’ development theory is in fact needed, one that is sensitive to general and particular questions that arise in political-economy in relation to development, and this special theory is neither an ‘applied’ form of economics nor a ‘supplement’ to mainstream economic theories. The ‘special development theory’ is far more expansive: it draws from the philosophy of history and the history of philosophy to critically question the epistemological, normative and scientific assumptions of ‘development economics.’ Our project in contrast to Meier’s, for example, is an attempt to fashion a new field called the ‘philosophy of development economics’ by way of the resources available in moral and political philosophies of justice and global ethics, namely Rawls’s endeavor in The Law of Peoples. And prior to such construction, one must keep in mind advanced problems in the philosophy of history, namely time, transformation, motion and causality. If development does not inherit basic problems in metaphysics (being, becoming, time, motion, rest, the thing in motion, the thing as motion, substance, permanence), then we are forgetting an important historical precedent that made the idea of ‘development’ even possible, particularly in its 20 th century expression. Rawls takes up questions for moral and political philosophy intrinsic to discussions of international justice, but he does so in a way that does not prioritize a single philosophical or metaphysical or religious comprehensive doctrine; the point is to see how these doctrines can be maintained from the standpoint of individual proponents but be subjected to reasonable and rational debate on which non-metaphysical or purely ‘political conceptions of justice’ become possible to which a single international order can adhere, i.e. a ‘society of peoples.’ This way the idea of justice as fairness for the basic structure of a single society can be expanded to justify principles of fairness and decency for the entire human species and the international order within which all human beings live.
We have seen that Croce’s subjectivisation of history prefig- ures Gadamer’s ideas; but other antecedents of Gadamer’s thought may be found in Croce’s position in the history of the hermeneutic approach. Though Gadamer may be its culmina- tion, we ought to start with Schleirmacher, for it was he who inaugurated modern hermeneutics and stressed the importance of reconstructing the meaning of the original intention of a text 14 . Schleiermacher was the first to speak of the hermeneutic circle; a metaphor for the way comprehension runs—under- standing the part from the whole and the whole from the part. Since the movement from part to whole and back was constant, in a sort of gyrating motion, progressively expanding, he called it “Zirkel im Verstehen” or circle/compass of understanding/ comprehension. According to Schleiermacher, the hermeneutic circle was the methodology of understanding; and as a philolo- gist he described the circle as the way we interpret texts. Croce was influenced by Schleiermacher’s Aesthetic and wrote about it in a late essay 15 . In it Croce acknowledged Schleiermacher’s foundational step for the independence of interpretation and language from logic, stating that “Schleiermacher circumscrib- ed appropriately aesthetical understanding as a form of know- ing that is not yet logical knowledge.” 16 Though Croce never wrote about hermeneutics directly, we may infer that he at- tached implicitly as much importance to it as Gadamer, since, as we saw, subjective understanding was to both thinkers the germ of historical thought. Croce’s belief in the inalienable historicity of history-making is an earlier and less audacious step than Gadamer’s concept that in understanding the past we bring ourselves into the historical situation; and with us we bring our own prejudices (or prejudgments) and as well as those of our age, which are history, even though some historians are still bound by the Cartesian “prejudice against prejudice” 17 and beseech impartiality 18 .
Karl Ernst von Baer’s Über Entwickelungsgeschichte der Thiere (“On the Developmental History of Animals”), though best known for its theoretical conclusions, began with practical advice on how to determine “individual periods of development” in the face of individual embryonic variation. This was necessary, because “[i]f one does not hold to such principles, then one can furnish a quite monstrous embryology, the individual determinations of which do not fit together at all.” Von Baer divided “inequalities in the periodicity of development” into two kinds: “in the association of the phenomena” and “in the progress of development as a whole”. The former were not very significant, but visible between less closely related parts; gut development was more tightly associ- ated with the mesentery than the brain. “Much more variable”, he wrote, “is the progress of development according to the duration of incubation and a real nuisance for the observer”. Sources of variation included temperature, above all, and the age of the eggs. “Now, in order nevertheless to be able to determine times for the individual steps …, I sought to determine a normal development”, that is, “the most usual” under the “favourable conditions” he specified. Von Baer thus divided chick development into 21 comparable days (Baer, 1828, pp. 4–7).