On Descartes & Taylor

In “Overcoming Epistemology,” Charles Taylor asserts that thinking is constituted by a number of conditions. He characterizes thought as taking place when a mixture of circumstances is present. First, the person doing the thinking must be analytical and objective, scrutinizing things as they come and examining them in a relative (i.e., with respect to other things) manner. An individual acquires such traits via experience, by living life and later looking back on what transpired with a critical mind. Experiences must cover a wide variety of endeavors and subjects (from sports to chemistry to human interaction), and instill memories of the happenings in one’s mind. Cartesian thought, allegedly, involves interpreting mathematical data and applying it to a specific situation. Descartes recommends “[using] artificially set-up experimental situations (with results expressed in mathematical terms) in order to understand material reality.” Despite to the validity (usually) of quantitative data, details exist that challenge its legitimacy. Although Descartes’ theory that mathematical measurement often supplies a sound foundation for basic truths, we need to dig deeper. One must assess the applicability of any empirical data while keeping in mind their anecdotal knowledge. This combined attack permits the proper evaluation of any particular “thought.” Taylor’s stance qualifies as anti-Cartesian in that it challenges Descartes’ stance on knowledge, and what it is to know anything. This epistemic predicament prompts Taylor to dismiss Descartes as being completely wrong; he asserts that Heidegger is right. According to Taylor, knowledge is essentially “correct representation of an independent reality,” as opposed to Descartes’ original (and inaccurate) epistemological view: the internal portrayal of an outer reality. Descartes’ idea of general intellectual understanding, “a priori knowledge,” does not seem to agree with this. He posits that no events just happen; rather, something makes them the case (ex nihilo nihil fit). The relationship between the human and the outside world is manifest everywhere. Taylor contests the Cartesian view that our contact with the world and even our own bodies is interceded by inner mental substance. He notes that if one focuses on one’s experience, one would realize that we deal directly with the things and people that make up our world at a level more elementary, even, than thought. The case(s) of the existence of (both God and) yourself disprove Descartes’ claims. To exist, one must be present in body; to grasp this presence, the mind must interact with the body (i.e., view and process this being). “We cannot doubt our existence without existing while we doubt;” “I think therefore I am.” Taylor’s position is anti-dualist in the sense that he states existence necessitates the interaction of one’s body and the world/all else. This obligation opposes Descartes’ contention of a person existing disconnected from their surroundings. By removing ourselves from our own body, we are able to objectively investigate its intricacies. This also allows one to detach oneself from the material world(s) around them; they can identify not in terms of other standards but without such comparison. Taylor recognizes that “Once we no longer explain the way things are in terms of the species that inform them, this conception of knowledge is untenable and…almost unintelligible.” Taylor claims that the existence (and even mere perception) of the subjects of one’s thoughts outside one’s mind does not entail any grasp of them. The difference between perceiving an object and dealing with one is quite significant. While one can have feelings about something in the absence of that thing, engaging in interaction with the object is impossible without it. This is partly due to humans’ role in the world as agents. According to Taylor, “coming to grips” with our surroundings calls for experimentation, observation, and manipulation; the “clear and distinct perceptions” proposed by Descartes prove fictional. Familiarity rests on a connection between what is “out there” and internal states that this external reality causes within us. Solving the “problems of life” makes epistemic troubles – desperate attempts to reassure oneself about practical life – drop away. A simple faith in Forms or ideals is not sufficient; comprehension requires an intimate understanding, both inside and out. “Contentment,” in Taylor’s eyes, is more a matter of merely being free, both in thought and all other activities. It is not effectively a feeling of happiness, but merely one of satisfaction. Taylor’s version deals more with liberty than assumed delight; he treats freedom as self-sufficiency and a fulfillment therein. As opposed to Descartes’ representation, Taylor interprets the situation as an accepted self-responsibility. He emphasizes a balance between internal and external being. By being certain with oneself and one’s judgments, an individual may declare victory, or at least break even. The certainty associated with this provides a person with “purpose.” Consequently, in the Meditations, Descartes errs in asserting that a happy life pertains solely to mental prosperity; “tranquility,” as he deems it. This lofty aspiration results, apparently, in a human achieving the best possible life. A lopsided and exclusive view, it leaves out the physical aspects of life, as it is solely a “contentment of mind.” Joy is not always inward and psychological, but often includes outwardly evident aspects. The position is lacking in that it fails to consider conditions outside the mind. Complacency may exist during intellectual nirvana, but aches and pains will still hobble even the most composed individual. His dualist stance cites the body and the mind as two discretely disconnected forms, and thus the conditions of one would not affect the other. The simple fact that the mind affects the body (and vice versa) demonstrates the falsity of his contention. Disorder in the mind detrimentally alters the body’s state, just as pain or physical discomfort negatively influence moods. In reality, one may be physically ill or emotionally distraught despite their cerebral bliss, thus eliminating the “contentment” he claims they gain purely from mental serenity. Descartes can respond by citing the presence and inevitable accuracy of a dualist universe. The mind and the body of any particular human being are two utterly distinct entities. They are separate and run independently of one another. By this argument, well-being would not rely on the agreement of both but rather on each unit taken into account autonomously. The fact that the mind cannot be divided infinitely as the body can presents us with the postulation that the former works as a whole while various parts of the body may function independently. This unity qualifies the mind, according to Descartes, as a unique object; the body is much more segmented. He can criticize Taylor’s position by stressing the fact that contentment is more than mere complacency; it is an enhanced frame of mind. Descartes feels the mind, being the unique and powerful unit that it is, is capable of far more. Freedom is not enough; one must strive for an expanded understanding of one’s life and the events that distinguish it from that of others. This broader perception puts one at ease; there is little or nothing left to question. Scrutinizing a life experience-by-experience does not leave much room for speculation. In terms of “everyday” implications, the rationalist would stress facts including injuries that have no psychological side effect and mental conditions that have no impact on the way in which humans anatomically function. Thinking about one’s leg hurting or kicking a soccer ball do not themselves cause movement in one’s leg. Similarly, Descartes might posit, one can move limbs or feel pain without (the mind) consciously processing the movement or the sensation of pain. Essentially, Descartes argues that there are thoughts that do not come from the senses. To “begin again from the first foundations” is to understand the rudimentary elements inherent in any concept. A reliable method is necessary for technical inquiry; one that generates well-founded confidence in the “truth.” Freedom allows one to make such inquiries, as well as to conduct apt investigation. Just because what I think is consistent with what is going on around me does not conclusively prove that I know anything about them. Certainty is needed; Descartes deems this “undeniable clarity” evidence. Comprehending scientific facts is a matter of building upon previous knowledge in order to eventually understand more complex ideas. This is preferable since current thoughts are inevitably shaped by previous ones; to think is to use former knowledge to better grasp a notion. This results in more ample insight into the theories and facts that accompany scientific study. To commence, one must read and research previous knowledge, using books or talking with others who have experience in the field. I feel we should certainly not dedicate our lives to meditation, as Descartes suggests. This lifestyle cheats one of many of the joys associated with a “carpe diem” mindset. Rather than sitting around and pondering past events, one should take things as they come. This acceptance allows one to embrace present occurrences and better prepare for the future. Cartesian contemplation is indeed possible – although perhaps more difficult in today’s world than it was in the Descartes’ time – but not desirable (at least to many, including myself). Neither modern science (Descartes’ version of “real knowledge”) nor philosophical reasoning are accurate methods to evaluate life. Despite our capability to devote our time to reflection, we live in a time when this way of life presents many intrinsic disadvantages. People today are so busy, constantly moving from one commitment to the next. These self-induced obligations are a testament to Taylor’s claim that the world around us inextricably alters our behavior. Dualism is unrealistic, as humans always rush from one activity to another based on the decisions of those around them. Accordingly, we should consider ourselves flexible thinkers, i.e. ones who can think when necessary or when desired, but not all the time. This will permit us to welcome unexpected events as well as to let them pass and often even dismiss them as “normal aberrations,” without wasting time after the fact to mull over their “meaning.” I, like Descartes, see no constructive purpose – in fact, I view the choice as a crippling one – in “[devoting] too much of [one’s] time to the study of letters.” But, in the same breath, I oppose Descartes’ suggestion (be it explicit or implicit) to ponder for extended periods of time. Ultimately, my accommodating outlook incorporates aspects of both opinions.