[Paleopsych] TLS: John Gray: Why irony can't be superior
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John Gray: Why irony can't be superior
The Times Literary Supplement, 1995.11.3
http://the-tls.co.uk/archive/story.aspx?story_id=2043273&window_type=print
The contradictions of Richard Rorty's postmodernism.
Norman Geras, Solidarity in the Conversation of Humankind, The
ungroundable liberalism of Richard Rorty, 151pp. Verso. £34.95
(paperback, Pounds 9.95). - 0 86091 453 4.
What must be true for irony to be possible? The question is a natural
one for any reader of Richard Rorty's writings. The recurring theme in
Rorty's work is that liberal cultures whose relationship with their
most central and fundamental practices is ironic will be better from a
liberal perspective in which cruelty is the worst evil, the reduction
of avoidable suffering the overriding imperative than liberal cultures
which seek "foundations" for themselves in "universal principles".
Rorty's ironists have given up that search, recognizing that liberal
cultures are contingent all the way down.They are historical accidents
that could easily have been otherwise, for which no justification that
is universally compelling can ever be given. Such ironists differ from
traditional sceptics in not perceiving this absence of foundations to
be in any sense a loss. Instead of seeking the identity of a liberal
culture in the requirements of reason, they find it in the sentiment
of solidarity, in sympathetic identification with a form of life whose
local and contingent character they freely acknowledge. They think of
different ways of describing the world, not as more or less accurate
representations of reality, but as more or less felicitous ways of
serving human purposes. Neither science nor ethics is for them a
mirror of nature. In helping rid us of the outworn metaphors that
sustain both ethical and scientific realism, ironists make possible a
liberal culture that is an improvement on any that has gone before.
They enable us to see the descriptions and redescriptions we give of
things as expressions of our freedom and imagination. Here irony is
the negation of the spirit of seriousness, a playful engagement in
world-making that is not haunted by nostalgia for the "one true" world
that has been lost.
In Rorty's account, the relationship of liberal ironists with their
culture expresses a kind of pathos of distance. They remain steadfast
partisans of its values, while regarding the universal claims that are
integral to its public culture and to its self-image which are
laboriously defended by contemporary apologists for Enlightenment
projects of various sorts with detachment. The narrower question that
Rorty's account naturally suggests is whether a liberal culture could
renew itself, and even as Rorty claims improve itself if its
self-understanding became ironic. The larger question is what
difference internalizing a Rortyish postmodern sensibility into the
public culture of modern Western societies would make to them.
A significant part of Rorty's work is a sustained polemic against a
certain conception of philosophy the conception, roughly, that
Wittgenstein attributed to F. P. Ramsay and condemned as "bourgeois",
in which philosophers aim to secure foundations for the practices of
particular communities. Rorty repudiates philosophy of this kind,
partly because he sees no need for the foundations that it seeks, and
partly because he has a different conception of the subject, in which
it is more closely allied to literature and the humanities than it is
to any of the sciences. In this other understanding of philosophy, it
does for us what a good novel does it enriches our human understanding
by exercizing the imagination. Rorty's own writings such as the
marvellous essays on Proust, Nabokov and Orwell, collected in his
Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, his writings on Heidegger,
Wittgenstein and Davidson, and his book Philosophy and the Mirror of
Nature are themselves, perhaps, the most compelling contemporary
exemplars of this style of philosophizing.
Among philosophers, Rorty's conception of the subject has been
resisted for a number of reasons, some more compelling than others.
His across-the-board dismissal of traditional ideals of truth has been
found unpersuasive by those and there are many who wish to reject
realism in ethics but hold on to it in the philosophy of science.
Others, whose model for philosophy is the practice of the cognitive
sciences, are reluctant to relinquish a conception of the subject in
which it yields insights but nothing akin to cumulative knowledge.
In so far as these are merely debates within philosophy about the
proper purposes of the subject, or the varieties of realism they are
of little general interest, since they concern a discipline that has
long been, and seems likely to remain, about as central in the larger
culture it inhabits as heraldry. They are, of course, a good deal more
than debates within philosophy. All contemporary Western societies are
afflicted in varying degrees by a pervasive cultural self-doubt to
which Rorty's conception of liberal irony is directly relevant. The
historic sources of the cultural confidence of Western societies, in
Christianity and in variations on the Enlightenment project, are fast
depleting everywhere. What Christianity and the dwindling cultural
legacy of the Enlightenment did was to confer on the most central
practices of Western societies the imprimatur of universal authority.
It should not surprise anyone that Rorty's spirited and resourceful
attacks on the central foundationalist and realist traditions of
Western philosophy, together with his subtle and provocative defence
of an ironic postmodern liberalism, have evoked the hostility at once
of American neoconservative culture-warriors and latter-day partisans
of the Enlightenment project. For both of them fear that, if Rorty's
seeming insouciant relativism is accepted, then anything goes. Though
these critics may be political opponents, they are at one in their
stalwart defence of the central Western intellectual traditions that
Rorty incessantly, and on the whole tellingly, attacks.
In Norman Geras's Solidarity in the Conversation of Humankind: The
ungroundable liberalism of Richard Rorty, we have something we cannot
expect from Rorty's neoconservative critics a critique of Rorty's
postmodern liberalism that is consistently challenging and morally
serious. Geras's argument against Rorty has four distinct strands,
which are developed separately in the book's four chapters. A major
strand that recurs throughout is Geras's argument that Rorty's account
of the behaviour of rescuers of Jews during the Holocaust as being
motivated by sympathy for the fate of "other Milanese" or "fellow
Jutlanders", rather than by universalistic concern for other human
beings goes against the evidence and the testimony of the rescuers
themselves.
A second argument aims to dis-entangle the different claims that are
being made when Rorty tries to dispense with any idea of a common
human nature. A third strand of reasoning attacks Rorty's claim that
concern for the lot of the weak and oppressed has, and needs, no other
basis than the traditions of specific (liberal) communities; it
maintains that this radically particularistic communitarian
interpretation of morality is incompatible with Rorty's assertion (in
his 1993 Oxford Amnesty lecture) that "the culture of human rights" is
"morally superior to other cultures". A fourth line of criticism aims
to confront head-on the moral and political implications of Rorty's
anti-realism, and argues that, if there is no truth, there is no
justice and, perhaps more importantly, no injustice either. A
recurrent theme in Geras's book is an immanent criticism of Rorty's
postmodern stance, which suggests that it coheres awkwardly, if at
all, with the liberal political causes to which he like Geras is
committed. The subtext of the entire book, in fact, its real message,
is the claim that Rorty's postmodern view that there is no truth of
the matter in ethics necessarily undermines the universalist political
moralities that the Enlightenment project expressed.
How these four lines of criticism are meant to support one another is
not very clear. Consider Geras's criticism of Rorty's account of
rescuers' motives during the Holocaust.
It may be true that Rorty's admittedly impressionistic account does
not square with much of the available evidence and testimony; but the
heroic behaviour of the rescuers tells against Rorty's account of
morality only if the universalist beliefs which apparently inspired
them are not themselves interpreted as well they might be by Rorty as
expressing moral sentiments instilled by particular cultures or
traditions. (And, in any case, why must we suppose that such
uncalculated acts of heroic solidarity depend upon the moral beliefs
of those who make them?) Geras is on stronger ground in his criticism
of Rorty's attempt to do without any conception of a common human
nature.
It is hyperbolic to maintain, as Rorty sometimes does, that human
beings are so completely malleable by socialization that there is no
sense in talk of their having a nature in common. Perhaps talk of
human nature might legitimately be dropped, as being lumbered with too
much essentialist baggage; but that there are enduring human needs
that are species-wide and largely resistant to socialization will not
be disputed by anyone who accepts a Darwinian account of our origins
and kinship with other animal species.
There is a tension in Rorty's thought at just this point, between the
thoroughgoing naturalism he shares with Dewey and the Idealist
conception of human beings as being constituted by their beliefs about
themselves which he adapts from the later Wittgenstein. It is an
implication of any coherent naturalist view, and a central insight of
Freud's, that human beings have needs and desires which demand
expression and satisfaction regardless of their beliefs and
socialization.
What Geras's defence of a common human nature cannot do is to ground
any universal political morality. It is an oddity of Geras's book that
he seems to take the political morality of Enlightenment humanism so
much for granted that he can write as if an argument against
unrestricted cultural relativism is somehow an argument for the
Enlightenment project of universal human emancipation. And there is no
doubt that the justice he thinks Rorty's particularistic account of
morality makes impossible is liberal justice, rendered in a somewhat
Marxian idiom.
But, of course, history abounds with universalist moralities that are
in no sense liberal; and, as we all know, the content of liberal
universalism can itself vary abruptly and radically. Affirmative
action is defended, and attacked, as being demanded, or prohibited, by
universal principles of liberal justice; but it is a funny sort of
justice whose limits are marked by different meetings of the APA true
at the Boston meeting, false in Los Angeles.
The inexorable implication of Rorty's work is that liberal cultures
are only one sort of human culture among many, and can claim no
privileged rational authority for themselves. Rorty cannot take a
full-bloodedly particularist and historicist view of liberal culture
and at the same time make the standard liberal-imperialist claim that
Western "cultures of rights" are superior to all others. His
affirmation of the contingency and irreducible diversity of the forms
of moral life must surely be as tolerant of the extraordinary
experiment under way in Singapore as it is of the liberal utopia he
favours himself. Rorty's candid ethnocentrism is an advance on the
dominant American school of Kantian liberal political philosophy,
whose tacit agenda seems to be to come up with a transcendental
deduction of themselves; but it shares with that school an unironic
acceptance of the claims of Western liberal cultures to moral
superiority over all others.
In its most universal sense, an ironic consciousness is one which
perceives that what is most essential in each of us is what is most
accidental. Our parents, the first language we speak, our memories
these are not only unchosen by us, they create the very selves that do
all our later choosing. The central Western traditions which,
following Nietzsche, Rorty so bracingly chastises the traditions not
only of Christianity and the Enlightenment but also of Socratic
inquiry are deeply uncomfortable with the acceptance of final
contingency which this ironic consciousness betokens. Much philosophy
done in these traditions is best understood as a project of exorcizing
the perception of contingency which irony expresses. In its more
historically particular sense, irony is the recognition that practices
and institutions that claim a universal authority in reason have no
such justification. This the sense in which Rorty speaks of liberal
ironists is a highly specific cultural phenomenon, distinctive of and
perhaps peculiar to contemporary Western liberal societies. This kind
of irony presupposes a public culture whose self-image incorporates
universalist principles with us, an enlightenment culture. Can we
reasonably expect Western liberal institutions to survive unchanged a
cultural mutation in which their universal claims are abandoned?
It may well be that Rorty's postmodern liberalism, like other
varieties of liberal theory, expresses one of the illusions of the age
in which the future of liberal institutions is underwritten by the
imperatives of modernity. That, after all, is the gist of all
Enlightenment liberalisms the expectation that, unless it is derailed
by war or fundamentalism, modernization is bound to carry liberal
culture in its wake.
What else can account for Rorty's confidence that liberal societies
will emerge stronger from the spread of an ironic consciousness? If
the recent history of East Asia is any guide, however, the expectation
that modernization entails the global spread of Western liberal
institutions is groundless, a deceptive shadow cast by a few centuries
of European hegemony. For those who will not renounce the claim of
Western liberal cultures to moral superiority, the dependency of
Rorty's postmodern liberalism on an illusion of modernity must seem
darkly ironic. For those who can achieve a post-ironic view of liberal
culture as merely one form of life among others, it will be an
opportunity to go further along the path that Rorty has opened up, and
think afresh about the conditions for a modus vivendi in a world in
which diverse communities, cultures and regimes can coexist in peace.
John Gray's most recent book, Enlightenment's Wake:Politics and
culture at the close of the modern age, was published last month.
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