This account from the Department of Philosophy at Michigan is one of the more sensible things I've seen written about this topic, which we've discussed here in the past. I'm going to repost it in its entirety:
Philosophers disagree profoundly about what the best way to do philosophy is. Disagreements of this sort are as old as the subject itself, which in the West dates back to the 6th Century BCE in Greece. Even then, some philosophers thought of what we now call philosophy as much the same sort of activity as natural science, while others thought of it as much more like religion. Disagreements of this sort have persisted to the present day.
The most common approach to philosophy, not only at the University of Michigan, but also in most other major universities in the English-speaking world, is what is known as ‘analytic philosophy.’ In the first half of the twentieth century, analytic philosophy was a movement that drew on emerging developments in mathematics and logic to clarify philosophical problems. Some analytic philosophers believed that making philosophical questions precise would allow their definitive resolutions, others that it would at least make clear what earlier philosophers had been arguing about -- and still others that it would show these questions to be ill-formed ‘pseudo-problems.’ Today ‘analytic’ philosophy still looks to this tradition, valuing clarity and precision in formulating philosophical positions, and scrutinizing arguments carefully. Analyses of meanings are less central than they were half a century ago, and analytic philosophers are now more wide-ranging in their interests, writing on subjects as diverse, for instance, as law, aesthetics, feminism, and Marxism. Analytic philosophers continue to share a belief that philosophy has much to gain from close ties to the natural, social, and mathematical sciences. In the history of philosophy, analytic philosophers stress clear reconstructions of the positions and arguments of the philosophers under study. Analytic studies in ethics, language, thought, mind, knowledge, and the like stress careful formulation and argument, in hopes that clarifying issues and arguments will lead to progress with the problems. In the words of J.L. Austin, the approach is to make progress by asking, persistently, "What does it mean? How do you know?"
Another way of studying philosophy is via the careful interpretation and examination of classic texts in the history of philosophy, works by past philosophers who have proven to be of enduring interest to contemporary philosophers. Although philosophers often conceive of their discipline as like a science, insofar as they hope that it makes progress in solving problems and discovering truth, they typically devote more attention to the history of their discipline than would be common in the sciences. One reason for this is that, to the extent that philosophy does make progress, it does so by building on the work of past philosophers. Understanding contemporary discussions – understanding why philosophers ask the questions they ask, and consider the answers they consider – frequently requires understanding how we got to the point we are at in this continuing conversation and why the questions have so far resisted definitive solution. But another reason is that the greatest works of past philosophers are a continuing source of inspiration to contemporary philosophers, who often go back to them to mine them for ideas which haven’t previously been given their due. And finally, some love to study the history of philosophy for the sheer challenge of trying to understand how the world looked to the best minds of other times and places.
The third major approach to philosophy in American universities is via ‘continental philosophy.’ This designation originated in the English-speaking world as a way of referring to those European philosophers of the 19th and 20th centuries not directly involved with the analytic movement. The term denotes neither a single philosophical program nor even a single line of inquiry, but encompasses a number of quite distinct movements. Hegel, Marx, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Husserl, Heidegger, Sartre and Foucault are a few of the figures usually listed under the ‘continental’ rubric. The much-discussed ‘analytic/continental’ divide was an artifact of the conviction, held by many English and American philosophers into the 60’s and 70’s, that analysis was the only way of doing philosophy. As this conviction becomes less widely held, and as analytic philosophers expand their areas of interest, the distinction is becoming less and less significant -- with the result that even predominantly analytic departments like Michigan generally offer courses covering all the major ‘continental’ figures.
This obviously resonates with claims I've made here before, as well as in my "Introduction" to The Future for Philosophy. I wonder what readers think? Post only once; non-anonymous comments are more likely to appear; and comments may take awhile to show up.

I'm no philosopher, not even of the armchair approach, but I'm struck by a lexical nuance in this account that suggests analysis is hard (active, rigorous), where interpretation is instead soft (passive, "inspired"). The first sentence refers generally to "do[ing] philosophy," connoting a sense in which one actively engages, creates, and contributes not merely to the literature about philosophy, but to the record of properly philosophical thought. The second paragraph dealing with analytical philosophy continues this vein by describing an "approach" that entails "making philosophical questions precise," i.e., crafting the very stuff of philosophy. But the next paragraph characterizes the interpretative mode as an approach to "studying" philosophy. Interpretation here seems to amount to looking but not touching. The third paragraph repeats the figure of "approach," but really fails to suggest the extent to which one actively engages the literature. Continental philosophy amounts to a canonic category of sorts, identified in terms of the authors who populate it, rather than a special mode of interaction. So, despite the account's depiction of the waning significance of the analytic/continental (or analytic/everything else) divide, its language hints at a lingering distinction. Analytic philosophy seems to require heavy lifting and intellectual labor, where the other varieties are merely bookish.
Posted by: Dean C. Rowan | April 18, 2007 at 05:12 PM
Granted that it's very hard to do something meaningful in three paragraphs -- and even harder in a quickly written blog comment! -- I'd say the Michigan piece is honest and reflects a pretty common view, namely that "analytic" philosophy is defined by a style of writing and that "continental" philosophy is oriented to the study of figures.
With regard to the third category, "history," I'd probably want some recognition that a lot of people who were trained in "continental" programs as I was think that in studying the figures of our tradition we also need to study the history of philosophy in order to test the readings the primary continental figures gave of the classics: Deleuze's reading of Spinoza, for instance, or (shameless self-promotion warning) Heidegger and Derrida's reading of Aristotle on time (the topic of my first book).
I was also struck by the phrase "as analytic philosophers expand their areas of interest." But the converse is true as well. For example, just as people in the embodied-embedded mind or situated cognition schools read Merleau-Ponty and Heidegger (e.g., Alva Noe, Mike Wheeler, Andy Clark, and others), phenomenologists are reading cognitive science and analytic philosophy of mind (e.g., Shaun Gallagher, Dan Zahavi), so there's a very nice confluence there.
In any event, maybe it's time to re-draw the map along substantial lines rather than those of "approaches" or "styles": instead of analytic, history, and continental, why not realist and anti-realist (as Chris Norris proposes) or naturalist vs anti-naturalist?
A last word: one thing that has kept the analytic / continental split going is the barriers to entry to the respective fields. To read continental philosophy you need language study and study in the history of philosophy and you have to read a certain amount of CP to see the cross-references (to see where Foucault is alluding to Deleuze, for instance); to read analytic philosophy, I suppose there’s less preliminary work (unless you’re reading people who use a lot of formal notation), but you do have a lot of specialized terminology to come to grips with. It might be true that analytic philosophers prize clarity of argument, but I think I can say that “anomalous monism” or “mereological supervenience” are not particularly welcoming terms to the novice!
Posted by: John Protevi | April 18, 2007 at 07:41 PM
I agree that the article is sensible. Curiously, it does not fully develop the comparison of philosophy to science vs. religion that it starts with.
The article says analytic philosophy is more analogous to science than religion. That's right. What it does not say is that continental philosophy is more analogous to religion than science. That also seems right. (I speak from personal experience, based on the training I've had in both traditions.)
Like religion, continental philosophy looks much like a series of "revelations" (to special authors/"prophets") followed by disputes over the correct interpretation, meaning, and moral of the "revelations". Also, like religion, continental philosophy seems more generally aimed at rallying, consoling, or edifying people than analytic philosophy.
In these respects, continental philosophy properly so called (as opposed to the study of the classic continental philosophers by analytic philosophers) remains quite a different enterprise from analytic philosophy.
Posted by: gualtiero piccinini | April 18, 2007 at 09:32 PM
Making history its own third category, distinct from both analytic and continental traditions, strikes me as odd. First, both the analytic and continental tradtions seem to define themselves (in part) by reference to their histories. A philosopher like, e.g., Philip Kitcher can find it useful to situate his work in relation to Mill's. Whereas (I take it) a contemporary contintental philosopher might find it more useful to situate his or her work in relation to, say, Husserl. But to recognize that the two traditions have different historical canons, we need to be able to say that both traditions *have historical canons*.
But more importantly, it's clear that history of philosophy is (usually) studied by people who are trained in one or another of the two traditions. If you compare, say, Gilles Deleuze's and Henry Allison's books on Kant, you can't help but notice that one of these looks more like continental philosophy and the other looks more like analytic philosophy. History isn't a distinct third style of philosophy here; it's a part of both tradtions, and studied differently in the two traditions according to their different methods and styles.
Posted by: Scott Edgar | April 18, 2007 at 10:15 PM
Qualtiero Piccinini, if you did receive the sort of training you said you did in CP, then you were done a disservice. I'd ask you though not to over-generalize from your experience to that of CP "properly so called." There is a sort of "Heideggerian high church" style, I'll grant that, but it's pretty limited and fossilized. Other than that, I don't see anything like the "revelation" bit you describe. Len Lawlor's book on Derrida and Husserl (Indiana UP, 2002), for instance, isn't like that at all. I could name a hundred other examples if you'd like to email me.
Posted by: John Protevi | April 19, 2007 at 10:11 AM
Professor Piccini's comment is curious in another direction--quite apart from the fact that it has nothing to do with the various traditions in Continental philosophy, except perhaps the Heideggerian--since there are plenty of subfields within so-called "analytic" philosophy that operate in the same "religious" way: think of, e.g., some of those doing history of early analytic philosophy, esp. those who have been Drebenized.
Posted by: Brian Leiter | April 19, 2007 at 10:19 AM
Let me add that the "Heideggerian high church" style doesn't exhaust the field of people interested in Heidegger! I suppose everyone knows that, but sometimes it pays to be safe.
Posted by: John Protevi | April 19, 2007 at 10:49 AM
I agree that the Michigan statement is about as good as one can do, and the following is a quibble, but ...
It's about the suggestion that analytic philosophy "drew on emerging developments in mathematics and logic to clarify philosophical problems." That's true of Russell, obviously, but how true is it of Moore, surely as central a figure? And how true is it of ethics, surely a central part of philosophy? Ethics today is sometimes written in a quantificational style, but that's a pretty recent development -- most of the major figures in ethics in the first part of the 20th century (Moore, Prichard, Ross, Broad) wrote in a recognizably analytic style but without any influence from logic. Moreover, analytic-style ethics was being written, and being recognized as important, decades before those developments in mathematics and logic, i.e. in Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics (1874). In fact, ethics had recognizably analytic practitioners long before M & E (the so-called 'core' of the discipline) had any inkling of that possibility. The standard picture is that M & E drives the philosophical boat, but in this case it seems not to be so: ethics became analytic in style on its own, without influence from logic or M & E, and before M & E.
Posted by: Tom Hurka | April 19, 2007 at 01:08 PM
I have my doubts about whether the post by "Qualtiero Piccinini" was actually by the professor from Missouri-Saint Louis. But I may be wrong.
Posted by: Galen Barry | April 19, 2007 at 03:14 PM
I'm surprised no one has noted the lack of any substantial claims with respect to continental philosophy in the above description. Whereas analytic philosophy seems to be described with positive/inclusive terms (e.g., it includes "clear" and "precise" philosophizing), continental seems to be described as merely that which analytic philosophers thought was different (there is some name-dropping, but no attempt is made to tie the names together). I'm sincerely curious as to why that is.
As for the actual difference in analytic and continental philosophy, I think it ultimately comes down to natural, geographical, and maybe even racial elements. I'm surprised Prof. Leiter, arguably the most renowned living Nietzsche scholar (and deservedly so), hasn't, as far as I know, mentioned this possibility, since Nietzsche brings up this fact quite a few times in his works (though, of course, he didn't use the words "analytic" or "continental"). For example, and I'm sure I'll be somehow corrected by Prof Leiter on this, Nietzsche claims that Kant roughly "translated" Hume for German tastes, and also that the reason German philosophy is similar to Indian philosophy is because of a similarity in grammar, and that said similarity in grammar was due to a similarity in physiological and/or environmental conditions (I'm guessing Nietzsche was primarily thinking of Schopenhauer, though he probably thought this analogy, somehow, extended to other German philosophers). The reason I bring all this up is because it seems that most philosophers today share a hesitancy in asserting any clear divide between analytic and continental philosophy, and I think this is due to two facts: (1) the realization that the different cultures do indeed, for better or worse, practice philosophy differently, and (2) the rise of globalism has made it such that the differences between cultures, especially Western/European ones, is gradually being diminished, such that analytic philosophy has started to appropriate continental philosophy and vice versa. Anyway, the point I was initially trying to get at was that the difference between the two styles adds up to little more than the difference between different cultures (it's hardly fair to subsume all of continental Europe into one culture, but it seems that the dominant world view at the moment is the English/American one, and I don't think it's too controversial to say that the dominant world view tends to be something like a touchstone, roughly speaking). In fact, historically, there has always seemed to be a difference between the English style and the so-called continental style, which is why I believe that even a century ago Nietzsche was inclined to refer to English philosophers as superficial by German standards (which, if you take into account his disparagement of the Germans, doesn't necessarily mean he thought the English style was in fact superficial). But, even disregarding Nietzsche, it seems philosophy from England has always been a bit more practical and down-to-earth (whatever that means) than the philosophy coming from continental Europe (e.g., Locke, Hobbes, and Hume seem exceedingly down-to-earth and practical when compared to Spinoza, Leibniz, Hegel, and Kant). What I'm really curious to find out is why this is. But I presume that that's a question for sociologists.
Posted by: Emily McMahill | April 19, 2007 at 07:37 PM
What an excellent post and discussion! Professor Protevi, your reading of The Order of Things was an amazing tool in helping me navigate the text (along with Professor Dreyfus and Rabinow's book).
I am a little confused about what exactly is being discussed. Are we discussing the main figures in the cannon of the respective 'traditions'? And I know many people posting here are professional philosophers, and would like to be considered as a part of that same activity, yet is there any line drawn between those in the cannon and those scholars in the American academe who review and critique their works?
I'll write this assuming that when referring to continental thought and analytic thought, we are referring to the practice of philosophy carried at the level of the academe, and as a mode of philosophical activity separate from those who have entered into the cannon. [especially because the original post comes from a description from a University on its program]
Professor Protevi, you said said the article reflects a common distinction in which analytic philosophy is a style of writing and continental is devoted to a study of figures. Isn't it a little more fair to say that they are both highlighted by their unique style, yet continental thought pays more attention to the study of figures and 'the question of history' than analytic thought?
The styles, i guess, could be distinguished from one another in that analytic philosophy often approaches an argument and a problem by means of a propositional dissection. Continental thought is more metaphorical, and probably has a stronger affinity for neologisms (even if they are meant to be humorous). In fact, I think if a 'style of writing' has to be emphasized between the two traditions, it should be Continental Thought. It's substantively concerned with style, whereas some analytic writing can get (ehem) sometimes dry. I guess a fair criticism of Continental Thought is that it can get a little too vague and abstract (especially when being barraged with the neologisms)
Next, I found Professor Piccinini's post, VERY fascinating. I think Professor Puccini might be talking more about the substance of those in the cannon, rather than the practice of continental philosophy as it exists today in the academe (I could be wrong). I can understand the analogy with religion, but I probably wouldn't use the word 'revelation' per se; I do, however, see the link via [rhetorical] interpretation, concerns over meaning, and the practice of hermeneutics (it was, after all, originally concerned with biblical authenticity).
I also wouldn't say 'religion' vs. 'science', but rather maybe a more contemporary feud- that of 'the two cultures' of science and the humanities. I think it was Professor Simon Critchley (from New school) who made that argument, and its reinforced by the description in Michigan as how Analytic Philosophy has "close ties to the natural, social, and mathematical sciences". Yet Continental Thought seems to have ties to the humanities (where philosophy and literary theory/criticism come together, where new hybrid-disciplines like Post-Colonial theory appear, where new trans-disciplinary research is conducted with far reaching influences [a la Judith Butler]).
This last part is a bit more conjectural, but to return an earlier point, the concern with history (rather than just the history of philosophy) has for a long time been the concern of continental philosophers rather than those in the analytic tradition. Wittgenstein abhorred history. Maybe it took two other Oxford buffs, intellectual historians, Collingwood and Berlin, to bring the discussion of history into anglo-american discourse?
Posted by: Navid Nakhaee | April 19, 2007 at 09:04 PM
Tom Hurka's point about the existence of an analytical style in ethics before and during the period recognized by our founding myth about the origins of analytic philosophy is very well taken. Sidgwick's Methods is indeed a landmark in 'analytic' ethics. (Sidgwick was, I believe, one of Moore's and Russell's teachers.) However, Sidgwick's work was very much rooted in debates among and over utilitarian political economy. So, it actually nicely fits a broader claim in the Michigan account with its nod to analytic philosophy's ties to the mathematical sciences. But Hurka's post raises intriguing question about why the (undoubtedly genuine) developments in (mathematical) logic have become so important to the self-image of analytical philosophy. Finally, Sidgwick's development owes a lot to his theological concerns, too!
Posted by: Eric Schliesser | April 20, 2007 at 01:29 AM
Just a point of clarification. The claim that English philosophy has always been more practical and down to earth than Continental philosophy is just false. Cudworth? Henry More? Shaftesbury? British Idealism? On the French side: Condillac? Condorcet? Comte? The British could wax obscure with the best. The French have a long tradition of clear scientifically and mathematically rooted philosophy. It is rather the case that the British philosophy that was clear and practical is greatly valued by today's clear and practical English language philosophers. Even this is probably going too far, I think it's a bit of a myth that philosophers like Hume, Locke and Hobbes are all that clear and practical -- but that would be a different thread.
By the way this is also a good reason for philosophers to be acquainted with more than the "examination of classic texts in the history of philosophy, works by past philosophers who have proven to be of enduring interest to contemporary philosophers" and look a those which are not of "enduring interest". There are good philosophical reasons to counter and question received myths about the supposed history of one's philosophical beliefs.
Posted by: Aaron Garrett | April 20, 2007 at 07:14 AM
I noticed two things on a return visit to the Michigan site. First, the "Styles of Philosophy" page is on the Undergraduate page. I don't know the significance of this positioning, though perhaps the department feels that given Michigan's analytic specialization, few people thinking of going there for graduate work would be interested in continental philosophy. Second, although the page claims that "even predominantly analytic departments like Michigan generally offer courses covering all the major ‘continental’ figures" it wasn't immediately clear from a quick glance at course offerings for the past few semesters which courses fulfill this claim. I didn't do a complete search of syllabi, so maybe the coverage of continental figures could be seen that way.
p.s., Navid, I'm glad the online lecture on Order of Things was a help, though as I note at the top of that page, I really relied very heavily on Gary Gutting for that lecture.
Posted by: John Protevi | April 20, 2007 at 12:56 PM
As an analytically trained philosopher (from Michigan) in a Continental-focused department (Memphis), I have a keen interest in this discussion and am grateful to Leiter for hosting it and others like it. Given the particular context here, with the original letter coming from Michigan, I thought a few personal impressions might be relevant (and please note: they really are mostly “impressions”).
First, I can say that I had little understanding of Contintenal philosophy before coming to Memphis. Michigan in no way stressed learning either what Continental philosophy was or studying any of its figures. I don’t regret this and I have no desire to disparage Michigan. I’m as pro-Michigan as they come. Nevertheless, whatever its merits for explaining the difference between the traditions, I find the whole statement a little ironic and I’m especially bemused by its concluding statement.
Second, I call Memphis “Continental-focused”, because Memphis prides itself on maintaining a balance in the faculty between the traditions, even though the Ph.D. program is nearly entirely Continental. This is a great boon to our graduates, who enjoy a certain reputation for top-notch Continental training without being ignorant of analytic movements, figures, concerns, and methodology. More to the point, as anyone who knows Memphis can confirm, the faculty get along incredibly well; and not just socially, but philosophically. We have regular in-house colloquium and discussion during at those meetings across the traditions is usually quite lively and non-trivial. So whatever differences exist, they aren’t so deep that shared dialogue is impossible.
Having said this, however, one thing I can say is that Continental scholars do think something substantive separates the traditions. The points made here about the Continental focus on historical figures (and the historical influences on those figures), differences in style (especially the neologism of Continental; the rhetorical dryness of analytic); the reliance of a kind of “revelation” in Continental (or the discussion of something like it in the historical figures at any rate) – all these generalizations I find true and useful. Nevertheless, they leave something out. At least, I’m fairly confident that my Continental colleagues think all this plus something more separates the tradition, and that this “something” is substantive. That is to say, something philosophically important and genuine divides the traditions.
Unfortunately, I confess I can’t yet say what that something is. I’m still hoping to figure it out and perhaps it will turn out that there is nothing. My point is only that the tendency of the comments so far in this discussion (responding to the Michigan statement) is away from any such substantive difference, but my experience would suggest that this can’t be right – at least in they eyes of Continentals.
As a final note, I should add that I have garnered a sense that the Continental tradition is not unified on who is to be counted a genuine spokesperson for it. In particular, I have the sense that many Continentals think there is, and are suspicious of, what might be called “analytic Continental.” If this is right, real progress in this discussion will require Continentals to declare themselves and where they might stand (or think they stand) in relation to such a subdivision.
Posted by: Remy Debes | April 20, 2007 at 02:20 PM
Because many prospective students read this blog, I am afraid I can not less pass Professor Debes's (no doubt good faith) statement that Memphis graduates "enjoy a certain reputation for top-notch Continental training without being ignorant of analytic movements, figures, concerns, and methodology." Memphis graduates do not, in my rather extensive experience, have such a reputation, certainly not with respect to "top-notch Continental training." People at Memphis may, indeed, have invented a bogeyman called "analytic Continentals," but this tells us far more about what's going on at Memphis than about philosophical work related to the many Continental traditions in philosophy since Kant.
I hope to comment on a few of the other comments posted above when I have a chance.
Posted by: Brian Leiter | April 20, 2007 at 02:43 PM
Two quick comments in reply to Professor Leiter:
1. On the one hand, my reference to our graduates at Memphis was, in the first place meant more to emphasize the merit of having appreciation and understanding of the analytic tradition. And on the other hand, I assumed my comments were qualified by our relative position among graduate programs. That is to say, as a smaller program among the giant research schools, our graduates are notably quite successful in securing jobs. Perhaps not the most flashy jobs in most cases; but in today’s market I take it that “flashy” isn’t a necessary qualification for a positive estimation of a Ph.D. program. Surely Professor Leiter will appreciate the former and agree with the latter?
2. My remark about “analytic Continental” is not derived in the main from discussion at Memphis, and I’m sorry if I gave that impression. It is an impression derived from reading these discussions each time they appear on this site, discussions with visiting Continental faculty, faculty at conferences, etc. Indeed, it’s a term I’ve supplied. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Again, I’m speaking as an observer of that tradition and by no means from within it. In short, take my comments as fishing for opinions (especially from within the Continental tradition): Is there such a fractioning?
In any event, there is no such bogeyman at Memphis. Indeed, if there were I’d be at risk of contradicting my own praise of our graduates for their appreciation of an analytic style, wherever it should appear. So, whatever else lurks in our closets down here, this creature is not one of them.
Posted by: Remy Debes | April 20, 2007 at 05:14 PM
Just an amplification of Remy's latest post: I think his initial characterization of Memphis is more appropriate than Leiter's comment suggests. Let me preface this by saying that while I'm a graduate of Memphis, I was one of the few who did not do much work in Continental philosophy. That said, my one-off testimony, for whatever it's worth, is that I received great training. (Caveat: several--though not all--of the faculty with whom I worked closely, in particular Mark Timmons and Terry Horgan, have since moved to other departments.)
Of course, Leiter's point was about reputation, rather than training itself, specifically about Remy's claim that Memphis grads "enjoy a certain reputation for top-notch Continental training without being ignorant of analytic movements, figures, concerns, and methodology," to which Leiter responds, "Memphis graduates do not, in my rather extensive experience, have such a reputation, certainly not with respect to 'top-notch Continental training.'"
I'm not sure what work "certainly" is supposed to do here, but the main point I wish to make is that I'm pretty sure that Remy is right that I, and many others, did not leave Memphis "being ignorant of analytic movements, figures, concerns, and methodology" (which, I take it, was the point Remy was trying to make in his note on how the Continental/Analytic divide is bridged in a healthy and robust way at Memphis). I also have the impression that we don't have the reputation of being ignorant in this way. In short, while Leiter's intent of leaving potential grad students fully informed is admirable, it would be a disservice to Memphis' current and former grad students working in Continental philosophy to incorrectly suggest that their training might leave them ignorant of analytic philosophy in this way.
Posted by: Josh Glasgow | April 20, 2007 at 09:08 PM
Two additional thoughts:
1. I was referring only to the claim about training in Continental philosophy, and, as in many cases, reputation usefully tracks the reality about training, so I was not drawing that distinction.
2. Professor Debes's mistake may be in thinking that there is something called "the Continental tradition." There is not, which is one of the sensible points made by the Michigan statement posted above. I discuss the issue in the "Introduction" to The Future for Philosophy, as do Michael Rosen and I in the introduction to the forthcoming Oxford Handbook of Continental Philosophy.
Posted by: Brian Leiter | April 21, 2007 at 07:41 AM
Let’s return to the topic of the post.
I think we have to distinguish two questions: (1) whether or not there is a conceptually defensible formulation of “the Continental tradition” (to which Brian answers in the negative, but others might answer in the positive); (2) to what extent do members of the philosophy profession believe there is such a thing as “the Continental tradition” (and as well, such a thing as “the analytic tradition”). The first question can be addressed by argument, but the second (two) points are empirically verifiable sociological questions.
Now if it’s the case that some members of the profession believe there is such a thing as “the Continental tradition” (and as well believe there is such a thing as “the analytic tradition”) then some of those same people might in turn believe that there is a distinction to be drawn between “analytic Continentals” (people who read Continental figures but in an analytic way; let’s call this ACP for “analytic CP”) and some other group of philosophers who read Continental figures in a “Continental” way (in honor of “theory theory” in philosophy of mind, let’s call it “Continental Continental Philosophy” or “CCP”). Again, this is a sociological question. It may or may not be a rationally justifiable way of thinking, but I think there’s some anecdotal evidence to back this up, though I don’t know if anyone has done any real sociological work on this question.
Posted by: John Protevi | April 21, 2007 at 11:49 AM
It seems to me that one major difference between "continental continental philosophy" and "analytic continental philosophy" (if they exist!) has to do with the relative lack of blind peer review in the former. Analytic philosophers stress journal publications because of the great weight placed on blind peer review. Of course it sometimes isn't entirely blind, and there are all the obvious problems, but it does mean (at least in principle) that a gifted young philosopher with a mediocre degree can publish her or his way into a position of prominence without having to shake too many hands and know too many important people. Before you just say "it aint like that", let me stress that I know full well that there are a lot of counterexamples. I also know that a lot of kinds of peer review can be legitimate, editorial review for example. But, when you write a journal article for a double-blind peer reviewed journal you cannot presume your reader knows what you're thinking already, or that willful obscurity will be treated as gravity because you are important or know important people. That seems to me to make a huge difference. One of my colleagues told me a story about going to David Lewis' office hours and realizing that Lewis was uncharacteristically irritable because he had just had an article turned down by a journal and he thought the reader's report was full of errors. That's what is great about blind peer review. Even if the blind reader may have been wrong! David Lewis can be rejected and David Lewis continued to submit articles for review, even when he was recognized as maybe the greatest philosopher of his generation and could have published his laundry lists if he threw his weight around. There are lots of downsides, for example my pet peeve as an historian that articles which step beyond a list of canonical philosophers and canonical subjects are likely to be treated as "unimportant" or "unphilosophical". And many more I can think of. But the upside seems to me decisive.
The "continent" has only recently been moving to this kind of blind peer review (if it has at all). Books are still the unit that measures success, and there is little blind review mechanism of books from what I understand. It's who you know, or who your advisor knows. I think this attitude pervades branches of American "continental continental" philosophy, insofar as it is connected to the continent, although it may be changing. But it is still the case that who knows who is very important in one's academic career. A "great man" or "great woman" can be willfully obscure, give talks scribbled on airplanes and so on because they are very important and everyone knows it and depends on them. If this was Gualtiero Piccinini's point about the religiosity of continental philosophy, I think I agree with him.
Let me say as a matter of record that I went to the New School where I feel I got a decent education, I think Heidegger and Deleuze are interesting, so I'm not by any stretch of the imagination a techie analyst. But I think peer review will just tend to make "continental continental philosophy" clearer, more to the point, better written and something analytical philosophers might want to read without sacrificing any deep insights.
Posted by: Aaron Garrett | April 24, 2007 at 11:01 AM
A few brief points in response to Aaron Garrett. These issues deserve longer treatment, which I hope to do sometime soon on my own blog (forgive the self-reference, or in the Anglo-Saxon, “blogwhoring”).
First, it’s true that the book is the preferred unit of expression in CP / CCP, but I think that has more to do with the expectations of Promotion and Tenure committees than with the desire to avoid peer review.
Second, sociologists treat what we call the job “market” as instead an exchange network, with graduate students not as actors selling their services but as tokens exchanged among graduate programs. Kieran Healy discusses this form of analysis in Crooked Timber posts on 11 Nov 2003 and 4 Dec 2004. The results seem to hold across many disciplines, with economics being the least like a market! If we want to adopt that perspective for the philosophy profession, we shouldn’t restrict the analysis to CP or CCP as Professor Garrett seems to imply, but analyze the whole profession.
I don’t think there is any way to conceptually define CP or CCP (as I argue in the Introduction to A Dictionary of Continental Philosophy [Yale UP, 2005]), but suspect that we could identify a mini-network of placement among graduate programs in CCP. In that sociological sense, CCP is a reality within the profession.
Finally, if there are fairly separate exchange networks / job markets for AP and CCP at work in the profession, I wonder if there aren’t also citation networks as well? And if they are, wouldn’t these track the exchange networks?
Clearly, there’s some sociological work to be done here. Let me end with what I think is a philosophical question: what’s the relation of our self-image that we have freely chosen the philosophical problems on which we work, and these citation networks, should they be shown to exist?
Posted by: John Protevi | April 25, 2007 at 06:59 AM
For what it's worth, given the puzzlment caused by my comment above, I wrote a longer post on how I understand the distinction between analytic and continental philosophy at:
http://philosophyofbrains.com/2007/09/03/on-analytic-vs-continental-philosophy.aspx
Posted by: Gualtiero Piccinini | September 03, 2007 at 12:33 PM