Descartes' Meditations

It is the second class of an introductory philosophy course. The first class where the stage for the semester is set is over. It is now time to dive into the philosophy. The reading for the day: Descartes' First Meditation. The Professor begins: "We ordinarily think there is a world external to us. But is there? What if it is all an illusion? Perhaps we are dreaming? Maybe there is an evil demon deceiving us? If we can't know there is an external world, how we can know anything else? Therefore before we can claim to know anything, we need to address this doubt." A challenge has been laid down. The implication has been made that if the students don't take on the challenge, they are being dogmatic; willing to rest content with their beliefs without really questioning them. The students' response to the challenge varies: some feel the force of the challenge and are excited, some are skeptical, some are bored, some don't understand. Which is the right response to have? Is there a right response to have to the professor's comments? The students look to the professor to see how to respond, and seek to follow the professor's actions. So they nod along. The professor interprets the nodding as affirmation from the students that they see the intrinsic worth of the questions. So the professor continues, confident that the doubt which has been introduced is shared by everyone in the room.

She begins again, "Let us turn to page 2 of The Meditations, and see how Descartes addresses the doubt of whether there is an external world...." Another example of pretend doubt.

No one stops the professor and says, "But, professor, I am already hooked by the doubt. How do we even know that Descartes' book is real? That there is even a book in front of me? That even Descartes was real? Oh my God, are you even real? Are you only a robot without a mind? Maybe you are the creation of the evil demon controlling my mind? Is this really a classroom, or am I dreaming? I don't know what to believe!" Call this taking the doubt personally.

I have been in countless philosophy classrooms where Descartes's text was discussed; as a student, as a teaching assistant and as a professor. Not once did I see any student respond in this way. Not even by the students who are most gripped by Descartes' text. I certainly didn't respond this way as a student. Even more, in those classes it seems altogether natural that no one would respond in this way. It never seems like a relevant possibility. Why?

Because a student who takes the doubt personally dislodges the assumption in the classroom that the professor knows something which the students don't, and that the professor will pass on some of that knowledge in due time. For a professor raising the Cartesian Doubt on the second day of class is part of a well rehearsed narrative, one which is like a play with 25 parts (one part for each day of class in the semester). Preparing for class is part of the professor's job, and the preparation partly consists of fine tuning the narrative so that each class session links naturally together. In part a good profession is one who takes the effort to tell a coherent narrative.

Unconsciously the students know this. The professor knows this more consciously, though she brackets it from the students while rehearsing the Cartesian doubt. Everyone in the room knows that what is being introduced in the second lecture is a set up for the third lecture, and so on; that the materials from these lectures will be on the essays or the exams for the class, and that what is happening in this second class is part of something larger --the class as a whole. And that the class is part of something ever larger--a college education which takes place on campuses.

The class functions because it has an order, and the professor is in charge of maintaining the pace and rhythm of that order. Like a conductor with an orchestra. The trouble with the student who takes the doubt personally is that he disrupts this order. Someone for whom the Cartesian doubt becomes real is like a member of the orchestra who ignores the conductor and insists on playing solo. He becomes a hurricane in the room--an unpredictable force which threatens to take over the content for that class. And the professor will then fall behind a day in the syllabus, and the narrative for the semester will have to be adjusted accordingly.

The planned rhythm of the class is: press the Cartesian doubt for half an hour or one hour; get the students into a state of admitted perplexity; and then introduce Descartes' knowledge of himself as a thinking thing in the Second Meditation as the purported solution. Do that for one class. Then move on to the proof of God's existence in the Third Meditation, cover the normal objections to it, and so on. The student who takes the doubt seriously in the second class comes across as a trouble maker because he is disrupting this flow. If the student persists in affirming the doubt, the only recourse for the professor is to say, "You are asking good questions. Let's talk after class." In this way the professor is forced to admit that she has a narrative planned. This can be embarrassing, since the professor's planned task for that class is to stroke the Cartesian doubt and not to down play it.

 

A Dialogue

 

My dear Calvin, I don't agree with Bharath's point that in philosophy classrooms there is a pretend doubt phenomenon. Contrary to how Bharath makes it seem, when the professor raises the doubt "Are all values subjective?" she isn't speaking for herself. Rather, she is raising a doubt which someone might raise, for example, someone who is a moral skeptic. And why is the professor doing this? Because by raising the question she is challenging the students' conception of the world, and  forcing them to rethink their deepest assumptions.

But, Hobbes, there is a simple response to the moral skeptic who worries if all values are subjective. Suppose I am talking to The Moral Skeptic. Either she acknowledges that our interaction is governed by values of civil discourse or she doesn't. If she does acknowledge such values, then she isn't actually a moral skeptic; she is just saying some words without realizing that she doesn't believe what she is saying. And if she doesn't acknowledge such values, then she and I are not going to be able to have a pleasant conversation anyhow. If we can't take for granted that while talking she can't use me as a punching bag, I sure as hell am not going to be able to have a simple philosophical conversation. I will then be seriously worried for her and for myself. If I come across a real moral skeptic, my worry wouldn't be that I wouldn't be able to convince her by argument. My worry would be: what if she steals my money, or stabs me? This is a loose cannon I am dealing with! Suppose she isn't actually a moral skeptic, but is toying with the position, and seriously wondering about it. Then I would assume that she is feeling really estranged from society and must be feeling very lonely and hurt, and I would see how I can help by bringing her off the ledge of such deep pessimism. The point that a professor can't be a moral skeptic because she is a professor applies in a sense to everyone. A father who aims to be even a decent father can't be a complete moral skeptic; for being a father means being committed to guiding one's child in some ways which will help the child when she grows up. Similarly with anyone who aims to be a neighbor or a friend, or any of the normal identities we as people strive for. There is no magical person we will come across to whom we have no bonds as people, and with whom one can discuss moral skepticism as if it were a purely theoretical issue. As I see it, this settles the worry of moral skepticism. What is there to go on about for a whole semester?

The Pretend Doubt Phenomenon

There is a phenomenon which often happens in philosophy classrooms. I will call it "the pretend doubt phenomenon".

An example. It is the first day of an introductory ethics class. The professor raises the questions, "What is ethics? Why does it matter?" A moment of reflection has been introduced. The students await the answer. The professor continues, "Ethics is the study of values. Are there any objective values? Or is everything subjective? For instance, we normally believe that lying is wrong. But is it really wrong? How can we know? Is there a fact of the matter about that? Similarly, we think that killing is wrong. But could it be that it is simply a subjective claim? These question are enormously significant because the answers to them matter to our everyday lives. If we can't justify that there are objective values, then we would have to rethink our whole way of living. Ethics is the study of these questions. It concerns the most basic questions of value, and they are essential for every human being to think about." The professor has given the justification for the subject matter of the course. The students are excited.

Now the professor hands out the syllabus. Goes through the readings. She comes to the requirements for the course: "The main work for this course will be writing essays. The university has a strong no plagarism policy. If you plagarize, you will fail the course. Also, doing philosophy involves a lot conversation, and so we will be talking with each other a fair amount in this course. So it is expected that you will be civil with your classmates. Getting angry will not be tolerated. Nor interrupting others. The use of laptops for anything other than taking notes is strictly prohibited. If you miss class more than 5 times, your grade will be docked a third of a grade. These are common sense points, so I expect and hope that no one will have a problem following them." The terms for the semester have been set.

The professor concludes the class by saying, "Ok, for next time we will read Harman's essay on relativism, and we will consider if there are any objective values. See you then."

This is usually the first day in many introductory ethics classes. It can be seen as having two parts. In the first part a pressing doubt is introduced: Are there any objective values? Oh no, what will happen if there are no such values? How will we survive as a society? We need to think about this. You need to think about this. Once the pressing doubt has been introduced, and the justification for the course established, the doubt seems to magically disappear. There is no more doubt. There is only the mechanical procedure of setting the terms for the semester, and of what values will guide the course. In the first part of the class - the content part - the doubt is raised as deep and pressing. In the second part of the class - the procedural part - the doubt is set aside to go over the basic values which are going to be taken for granted in the class.

As the philosopher J.L.Austin said, regarding a similar kind of double move, "There's the bit where you say it and the bit where you take it back."