On how events can have meaning, 2

That events can have symbolic meanings can be shown from paradigm cases (note: this is how induction was generally understood to work prior to some changes in the concept in the late medieval period) : the 9/11 attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center, for instance, and the attempted attack on the White House on the same day, were rightly interpreted as respectively targeting American imperialism in war, finance capitalism in economics, and representative democracy in political economy. Understanding these three as pillars of contemporary western civilization, the attack was viewed as an attack on western civilization itself. The date of the attack, on the anniversary of two critical defensive victories for western Christian armies over Muslim advancements (the end of the Great Siege of Malta in 1565, and especially the beginning of the Battle of Vienna in 1683), suggested a renewed struggle between Western, specifically Christian, and Islamic civilizations.

In the above instances, the meaning of the event is taken from the meaning its parts: the attack on the World Trade Center was an attack on finance capitalism because the World Trade Center was already an established symbol of the latter. The case is similar with the attack on the pentagon and the planned attack on the White House. The meaning of the event in each case is expressed by substituting some symbolized being for what symbolizes it in a sentence straightforwardly describing the original event.

Going further, the World Trade Center was able to be a symbol of finance capitalism because the buildings themselves were places dedicated to its practice. The Pentagon was seen as a symbol of American imperialism because it was a sight for the planning of military strategy and operations, and imperialism is necessarily a way of failing, by way of excess, to carry out the essential task of a military. The White House serves as a symbol for democratic governance because it is likewise dedicated to that end. In short, the first and third substitutions are each of a being with its end, while the second is of a being with a way of falling away from its prescribed end.

A glimpse of early Hebrew metaphysics in the book of Genesis

At Genesis 29:16-17, we find the following description of Laban’s daughters, both of whom the patriarch Jacob would wed.

‘Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the older was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah had weak eyes, but Rachel had a lovely figure and was beautiful. (NIV)’

The translation in other versions is similar. The King James Version, for instance, has ‘Leah was tender eyed; but Rachel was beautiful and well favoured’. The Hebrew text calls Leah rak`ayin, which is fairly well-represented by the KJV text above. The Latin Vulgate has ‘Sed Lia lippis erat oculis: Rachel decora facie, et venusto aspectu. – ‘But Leah was with watery/inflamed eyes; Rachel, [with] stately face and beautiful appearance.’ The Greek Septuagint (which predates the earliest extant Hebrew text) states that Leah’s eyes were ασθενεις – literally, ‘lacking in strength’ (οι δε οφθαλμοι λειας ασθενεις ραχηλ δε καλη τω ειδει και ωραια τη οψει)

That the original meaning of the text is not conveyed by any of the above is clear from its context: the current text has Leah’s weak eyes contrast with Rachel’s beautiful appearance. But the state of Leah’s eyes is not the right type of thing to contrast with Rachel’s beauty.

There is, however, something in the vicinity that does belong to an appropriate contrast class: Leah’s sight – not, that is, her capacity to see, but rather the sight of her, how she appears to others.

The original sense of the text would be that Leah was a weak sight – or, if Saint Jerome was cribbing from a Greek variant, a fat sight (lippus is cognate with the Greek λίπος, ‘fat’) – while Rachel was beautiful. We’ll assume the first.

It’s unlikely that a text that unambiguously referred to Leah’s appearance would have been corrupted to the point of referring instead to her eyes. What’s more likely is that an ambiguity in the original meaning was lost.

Today, sight is regarded as a power present in an organ, namely the eye. The appearances of things external to the eye is itself consequent on this power to see. In more extreme forms of this view, qualities like color and brightness do not exist in the thing, but in the mind: beauty is, as they say, in the eye of the beholder. In this construal, the being of a certain class of beings (the look of things) is reduced to that of a power (sight), which is in turn reduced back to the being of a part (the eye), which is itself grounded in the being of a subclass of objects (sighted animals).

But this isn’t the only way to view the matter. Alternatively, one can begin with the being of the sight itself taken as a whole, within which the seer, the seen, the showing of the seen as its manifestation to a seer, etc., all play various roles. The term used to refer to the whole can then be transferred by synecdoche to its various parts, with different specified interpretations appropriate to different uses. Words like ‘look’ and ‘sight’ still have this ambiguity in English today. Over time, words sometimes ossify to refer to a part where they once referred to a whole. Hence, the English ‘deer’ is cognate with the German Tier, ‘animal’, while ‘jealous’ and ‘zealous’ partition positive and neutral-charged versions of a phenomenon described by the same Greek root.

But in the biblical case, the direction of the reduction is important. In the thinking of the passage we’ve charted out, one finds a weakness in the sight of Leah, and a sight of beauty with Rachel. In the reductive reading, it is not merely that the sight of Leah’s is reduced to the wrong object – her eyes, rather than her appearance – the same reduction is present ‘correctly’ with Rachel’s beauty: it is no longer what is present with her in the event of her presence before Jacob; instead, it is a property of her appearance which stands opposite the eye of Jacob. In the second case, then, the reduction of the whole to a relation of properties to objects brings with it a duplication of correlated properties, e.g. the gaze of Jacob and others, and the task of explaining their correlation.

From this arise the two characteristic tasks of later western metaphysics everywhere we find it: the explanation of the unity of being by reduction of some beings to others as real, and by the correspondence of beings which belong together as truth.

The political philosophy of distributism: a very short introduction

What is distributism?

Distributism is a political ideal according to which property ownership should be as widely distributed as feasible.

How does distributism differ from capitalism?

Taken broadly, ‘capitalism’ refers to an economic system wherein property ownership is private. Its opposite is socialism, a system in which private ownership does not exist. In this sense, distributism is a political ideal that may be achieved within a capitalist system.

In practice, the term ‘capitalism’ often has a more specific meaning than that above, referring to a
system wherein property is concentrated in the hands of a few, and markets purportedly operate with little or no government interference. In this more restricted sense, distributism differs from capitalism, in that its policies aim at the establishment of property in more hands.

Notwithstanding political mythology to the contrary, capitalism and distributism don’t differ with respect to quantity of government interference: they differ with respect to its aims.

In capitalism, government intervention often occurs in order to enforce the rights of the few over the many (e.g. property and patent laws), to coerce the many to work for the few (e.g. laws connecting welfare to seeking employment), and to set up the few as the caretakers of the many (e.g. laws exempting workers from liability, and requiring liability of employers). That is, capitalist use of government intervention tends towards the establishment of what Hilaire Belloc called the Servile State – an arrangement of society according to which the masses are granted a minimal level of security and care, but lack substantial wealth or political capital, and are under the mercy of those few rich persons granted legal responsibility over them in various ways.

How does distributism differ from socialism?

Though the term has come to have a broad range in popular discourse, ‘socialism’ strictly refers to a system in which the right to private property is abolished. Distributism is one wherein it is affirmed. The difference is that the one affirms, the other denies, a right to private property.

In practice, socialist policies tend towards the establishment not of social ownership, but – like
capitalism – of the Servile State. That is, they tend towards the establishment of control of property in the hands of a few, who are granted the responsibility to care for the masses at the behest of the state. So distributism differs practically from socialism in exactly the way that it differs from capitalism, because these latter tend in practice to the same thing.

Is distributism a hybrid of left and right thought on economics?

No. It is better to regard the left and the right as closer to each other than usually suggested.
Government interference on both the left and the right tends toward the establishment of the Servile State. Distributist economic interventions aim at its abolition.

One important way socialist and distributist economic regulations often differ is in that the former tend to be ‘positive’ interventions, while the latter are more often ‘negative’ interventions.

Positive interventions include things like the establishment of bureaucracies to handle economic
necessities for the poor, health care, college costs etc. When these exist in a mixed capitalist-socialist economy, big businesses often leverage market forces to effectively turn these subsidies into a new ‘floor’ relative to product demand, and product costs go up. In this way, positive interventions both create large managerial bureaucracies and often translate in practice into indirect subsidization of large corporations. In the absence of corresponding negative interventions, they also tend toward the ballooning of government debt.

Negative interventions advocated by distributists include things like differential taxation relative to the number of stores owned or number of areas in which a ‘big-box’ company trades, the enforcement of anti-trust legislation, the taxation of ‘externalities’ like highways and pollution, and generally, various uses of taxation to directly prevent companies from serving too many sectors or too much of one sector. To the degree that negative interventions tend to involve less bureaucracy than positive interventions where the transfer of wealth must be directly managed, distributist interventions tend to be fewer, less invasive, and more efficient. Their difficulty is a purely political one: it is politically easier to advocate for subsidies than penalties, even when penalties would be of greater benefit to the class targeted for benefit than direct subsidization.

How does distributism handle the distribution of goods?

It doesn’t. That’s the beauty of it. In an economy where wealth is well-distributed, and the laws tend to prevent its concentration, this is accomplished by what Smith called ‘the invisible hand of the market’.

In this connection, it is important to see just how often this myth of the invisible hand fails to apply in typical capitalist economies. In practice, capitalism doesn’t use markets to manage everything: prices are often set in various ways by large monopolies, in a way not substantially different than in a socialist planned economy. For instance, a large supermarket chain that owns the store fronts, the factories that make the bread sold in the stores, the trucks used to transport the product, etc. does not determine the prices of its internal transactions by the market. Likewise, fisheries dependent on having their products sold by large chains aren’t in a position to sell their goods at a better price to different stores: the price for their labor are effectively dictated to them by those who control the means of distribution. Hence, product cost in archetypical capitalist economies is often determined much more bureaucratically than capitalist rhetoric would suggest.

By advocating policies that weaken and sometimes directly break up these large conglomerates,
distributists allow the costs of goods to more accurately reflect their true market price, and hence to achieve the equality requisite for a genuinely free and competitive market.

Previously published at https://www.imagodeipolitics.org/2017/08/16/the-political-philosophy-of-distributism-a-very-short-introduction/

On how events have meaning, 1

notre-dame-cathedral-stained-glass-window-rose-religion-e93c67-1024.jpgAs I began writing this, Notre Dame Cathedral was burning. I visited and attended mass at the cathedral just this past June, while on a trip to France to do manuscript research in Paris and present at a logic conference in Vichy. I broke down in tears upon coming home as I tried to tell my wife what had happened.

Inevitably, one comes to question the meaning of all of this. This, in turn, prompts the question of whether the question ‘what is the meaning of all this’, referring to this or any event, is even a sensible one. As many would have it, asking for the meaning of an event is a senseless question, like asking for the weight of pi.

To think through this question requires one to begin by taking the data given in these sorts of common phrases seriously. This is not to say that every question is ultimately a meaningful one. But it is to say that advancement on any given issue, even to the conclusion that the issue at hand is meaningless, is only made by following a path of inquiry. This, in turn, requires a kind of fidelity to the matter that presents itself which is incompatible with naysaying. Blessed is he who sits not in the seat of the scoffers.

Changes to site: a forthcoming experiment


Since starting this site, the blog portion of the website has been based on a very specific concept of what a philosophy blog can do better than other forms of philosophy literature: provide high-quality self-contained, short-form work on a topic that is disentangled from the academic literature and jargon associated with it, especially on ‘big-picture’ questions in metaphysics. For some of the better examples of this, I refer you to the highlighted posts page, especially the pieces listed under section 2.1, ‘What is philosophy?’.

Few philosophy blogs I am aware of actually attempt to do this. Among the better ones, one mostly finds tentative, informal approaches to topics the author hashes out better elsewhere, commentary on current events in politics and in the philosophy profession, and drafts of work that will ultimately find their way into academic publications.

Given the incentives associated with both philosophy writing and blogging generally, this is understandable. On the philosophy side, current incentives encourage writers to publish research that engages with the work of their peers, who in turn judge that work’s merits. An unfortunate side-effect of this is that professional philosophy writing tends toward insularity, and much philosophy blog writing merely becomes pre-professional writing. Philosophy work explicitly intended for a popular audience, e.g. many good pieces written in Aeon, tends to either distill academic work for a popular audience or focus heavily on trendy topics and current events. On the blogging side, algorithms that determine which pieces are recommended to others in aggregate blog sites like WordPress or Medium.com are biased towards a high quantitative output – even when, as is the case with the latter, there is an explicit attempt to do otherwise.

Nothing is wrong with this per se. But there is room for another, different sort of philosophy work than that dominant at present (either on this blog or elsewhere), and the need to strategically address the challenges post by search engine and blogging platform algorithms can’t be ignored. While I’m happy with most of the work I’ve published here to present, it hasn’t reached the limits of the first, and hasn’t even attempted to address the second problem.

That being said, there are several changes I’m making to the site:

The first set of changes affects the kind of content to be found here. I’ll begin posting on a wider variety of topics, including ethics, politics, religion, philosophy of technology, and economics. To now, I’ve avoided discussions of many of these issues on two assumptions: first, that most disagreements in these areas are consequent upon deeper metaphysical disagreements – ethical tips of metaphysical icebergs, so to speak. Second, that many topics in these areas are controversial, and my arguments on any of them would likely alienate some readers. Thought I still think these things are true, it now seems to me that the costs of engagement may not be as steep as I originally envisioned, (and that in the interests of truth I can only care so much if they are), and that there are likely benefits I had hitherto ignored to be had in engaging such topics – both in engaging other potential readers and in giving examples of greater disciplinary integration to a world where the sciences remain badly fractured. The one caveat is that I will continue to avoid writing material connected to news cycles, which inevitably comes to look badly dated after a short time. Even when engaging in topics of increased public interest, the directive of philosophy remains what it has been since Plato: to find what what is stable and lasting behind the changing and ephemeral.

Next come qualitative changes, of which there are three:

First, I’ll begin posting shorter blog posts close to daily. Since it would be foolish to pretend that the depth of analysis will remain the same after this change as when posts appeared less periodically, this leads to the next two changes.

The second change is the inclusion of best-of posts on weekly, monthly, quarterly, and annual bases, which will gather a subset of the best posts at the end of each of the aforementioned periods.

The third change is the launch of my medium.com author page (where all my posts can be found), and a medium.com publication, Philosophy Outside the Text, devoted to precisely the sort of work this blog was originally intended for: expositions that cut out obligatory academic references and jargon with no corresponding sacrifice of philosophical depth. The site will incorporate both new material and some of the better legacy posts from this site. It will also include posts behind medium’s premium paywall structure. If you have a medium.com account, you can ‘clap’ for these posts, which medium calls ‘stories’ – Medium’s clap is similar to Facebook’s like button, but allows the user to clap multiple times, which is intended as a way for readers to rate pieces according to quality. If you appreciate my writing, clap for me. At the end of each month, I’ll receive a payment based on the number of claps my stories receive. Lastly, I am considering adding other authors to Philosophy Outside the Text in the medium- to long-term. So if you or someone you know is interested and capable of doing the kind of work for which the site is intended, send me an email with a sample post at [myFirstNameMyLastName][theAtSign]gmail.com.