Can philosophy be an antidote to dogma?

 This is similar to another post I wrote recently, both of which are answers to questions I found on Quora. The reason I’m posting this is because I think it’s better than the previous one. Not surprisingly, it also references Socrates and the role of argument in philosophical discourse.
 
What qualities are needed to be a good philosopher?
 
I expect you could ask 100 different philosophers and get 100 different answers. Someone (Gregory Scott), in answer to a similar question, claimed that everyone is a philosopher, but not necessarily a good one.
 
I will suggest 2 traits that I try to cultivate in myself: to be intellectually curious and to be analytical. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
 
For a start, there are many ‘branches’ or categories of philosophy: epistemology and ethics, being the best known and most commonly associated with philosophy. Some might include ontology as well, which has a close relationship with epistemology, like 2 sides of the same coin. There is also logic and aesthetics but then the discussion becomes interminable.
 
But perhaps the best way to answer this question is to look at philosophers you admire and ask yourself, what qualities do they possess that merit your admiration?
 
Before I answer that for myself, I’m going to provide some context. Sandy Grant (philosopher at the University of Cambridge) published an essay titled Dogmas (Philosophy Now, Issue 127, Aug/Sep 2018), whereby she points out the pitfalls of accepting points of view on ‘authority’ without affording them critical analysis. And I would argue that philosophy is an antidote to dogma going back to Socrates, who famously challenged the ‘dogmas’ of his day. Prior to Socrates, philosophy was very prescriptive where you followed someone’s sayings, be they from the Bible, or Confucius or the Upanishads. Socrates revolutionary idea was to introduce argument, and philosophy has been based on argument ever since.
 
Socrates is famously attributed with the saying, The unexamined life is not worth living, which he apparently said before he was forced to take his own life. But there is another saying attributed to Socrates, which is more germane, given the context of his death.
 
To live with honour in this world, actually be what you try to appear to be.
 
Socrates also acquitted himself well in battle, apparently, so he wasn’t afraid of dying for a cause and a principle. Therefore, I would include integrity as the ‘quality’ of a good person, let alone a philosopher.
 
We currently live in an age where the very idea of truth is questioned, whether it be in the realm of science or politics or media. Which is why I think that critical thinking is essential, whereby one looks at evidence and the expertise behind that evidence. I’ve spent a working lifetime in engineering, where, out of necessity, one looks to expertise that one doesn’t have oneself. Trust has gone AWOL in our current social media environment and the ability to analyse without emotion and ideology is paramount. To accept evidence when it goes against your belief system is the mark of a good philosopher. Evidence is the keystone to scientific endeavour and also in administering justice. But perhaps the greatest quality required of a philosopher is to admit, I don’t know, which is also famously attributed to Socrates.

From Plato to Kant to physics

 I recently wrote a post titled Kant and modern physics, plus I’d written a much more extensive essay on Kant previously, as well as an essay on Plato, whose famous Academy was arguably the origin of Western philosophy, science and mathematics.
 
This is in answer to a question on Quora. The first thing I did was turn the question inside out or upside down, as I explain in the opening paragraph. It was upvoted by Kip Wheeler, who describes himself as “Been teaching medieval stuff at Uni since 1993.” He provided his own answer to the same question, giving a contrary response to mine, so I thought his upvote very generous.
 
There are actually a lot of answers on Quora addressing this theme, and I only reference one of them. But, as far as I can tell, I’m the only one who links Plato to Kant to modern physics.
 
Why could Plato's theory of forms not help us to know things better?
 
I think this question is back-to-front. If you change ‘could’ to ‘would’ and eliminate ‘not’, the question makes more sense – at least, to me. Nevertheless, it ‘could… not help us to know things better’ if it’s misconstrued or if it’s merely considered a religious artefact with no relevance to contemporary epistemology.
 
There are some good answers to similar questions, with Paul Robinson’s answer to Is Plato’s “Theory of Ideas” True? being among the more erudite and scholarly. I won’t attempt to emulate him, but take a different tack using a different starting point, which is more widely known.
 
Robinson, among others, makes reference to Plato’s famous shadows on the wall of a cave allegory (or analogy in modern parlance), and that’s a good place to start. Basically, the shadows represent our perceptions of reality whilst ‘true’ reality remains unknown to us. Plato believed that there was a world of ‘forms’, which were perfect compared to the imperfect world we inhabit. This is similar to the Christian idea of Heaven as distinct from Earth, hence the religious connotation, which is still referenced today.
 
But there is another way to look at this, which is closer to Kant’s idea of the thing-in-itself. Basically, we may never know the true nature of something just based on our perceptions, and I’d contend that modern science, especially physics, has proved Kant correct, specifically in ways he couldn’t foresee.
 
That’s partly because we now have instruments and technologies that can change what we can perceive at all scales, from the cosmological to the infinitesimal. But there’s another development which has happened apace and contributed to both the technology and the perception in a self-reinforcing dialectic between theory and observation. I’m talking about physics, which is arguably the epitome of epistemological endeavour.
 
And the key to physics is mathematics, only there appears to be more mathematics than we need. Ever since the Scientific Revolution, mathematics has proven fundamental in our quest for the elusive thing-in-itself. And this has resulted in a resurgence in the idea of a Platonic realm, only now it’s exclusive to mathematics. I expect Plato would approve, since his famous Academy was based on Pythagoras’s quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music, all of which involve mathematics.

Finding purpose without a fortune teller

 I just started watching a show on Apple TV+ called The Big Door Prize, starring Irish actor, Chris O’Dowd, set in suburban America (Deerfield). It’s listed as a comedy, but it might be a black comedy or a satire; I haven’t watched it long enough to judge.
 
It has an interesting premise: the local store has a machine, which, for small change, will tell you what your ‘potential’ is. Not that surprisingly, people start queuing up to find their potential (or purpose). I say, ‘not surprising’, because people consult Tarot cards or the I Ching for the same reason, not to mention weekly astrological charts found in the local newspaper, magazine or whatever. And of course, if the ‘reading’ coincides with our specific desire or wish, we wholeheartedly agree, whereas, if it doesn’t, we dismiss it as rubbish.
 
I’ve written previously about the importance of finding purpose, and, in fact, it’s considered necessary for one’s psychological health. But this is a subtly different take on it, prompted by the aforementioned premise. I have the advantage of over half a century of hindsight because I think I found my purpose late, yet it was hiding in plain sight all along.
 
We sometimes think of our purpose as a calling or vocation. In my case, I believe it was to be a writer. Now, even though I’m not a successful writer by any stretch of the imagination, the fact that I do write is important to me. It gives me a sense of purpose that I don’t find in my job or my relationships, even though they are all important to me. I don’t often agree with Jordan Peterson, but he once made the comment that creative people who don’t create are like ‘broken sticks’. I totally identify with that.
 
I only have to look to my early childhood (pre-high school) when I started to write stories and draw my own superheroes. But as a teenager and a young adult (in my 20s), I found I couldn’t write to save myself, including essays (like I write on this blog), let alone attempts at fiction. But here’s the thing: when I did start writing fiction, I knew it was terrible – so terrible, I didn’t even tell anyone – yet I persevered because I ‘knew’ that I could. And I think that’s the key point: if you have a purpose, you can visualise it even when everything you’re doing tells you that you should give it up.
 
So, you don’t need a ‘machine’ or Tarot cards, just self-belief. Purpose comes to those who look for it, and know it when they see it, even in its emerging phase, when no one else can see it.
 
 
Now, I’m going to tell you a story about someone else, whom I knew for over 4 decades and who found their ‘purpose’ in spite of circumstances that might have prevented it, or at least, worked against it. She was a single Mum who raised 3 daughters and simultaneously found a role in theatre. The thing is that she never gained any substantial financial reward, yet she won awards, both as an actor and director. She even partook in a theatre festival in Monaco, even though it took a government grant to get her there. The thing is that she had very little in terms of material wealth but it never bothered her and she was generous to a fault. She was a trained nurse, but had no other qualifications – certainly none relevant to her theatrical career. She passed last year and she is sorely missed, not only by me, but by the many lives she touched. She was, by anyone’s judgement, a force of nature.
 
 
 
This is a review of a play, Tuesdays with Morrie, for which Liz Bradley won an award. I happened to attend the opening with her, so it has a special memory for me. Dylan Muir, especially mentioned as providing the vocal, is Liz’s daughter.