It turns out that, mostly, they like it! With over 1400 votes (pretty good for the middle of summer, at least here in the Northern Hemisphere), 34% thought philosophy of mind "a central, foundational part of the discipline," and another 26% described it as "a major area of research." 27% more deemed it "useful when integrated with psychology and the cognitive sciences": so that's 87% with the most favorable options. 4% described it as a "minor area of research," and only 8% chose the most dismissive option.
With over 1600 votes in our latest poll, 51% deemed it a "central, foundational part of the discipline," and another 12% thought it "a major area of research." A further 23% though it "useful" when "integrated with traditional philosophical questions": so fully 86% chose the most favorable options. 5% chose "minor area of research," and only 9% thought it should be banished to the math department.
UPDATE: Philosopher Christy Mag Uidhir (Houston) points out that the favorable opinion of logic is hard to square with the relative paucity of logicians in most philosophy departments. I can imagine some explanations for this state of affairs, but I'm curious what readers think?
I'm uncomfortable with the contrast Brewer draws between "busyness" and "scholia", between thought constrained by lack and want and the need to survive, and thought "that does not take direction from anything alien to itself"; or the contrast between servile and liberal thought. I think that's actually the wrong idea, and it gives obvious ammunition to those on the other side.
Here's how I see it. There is a continuum, from the need to respond immediately to a threat, to a need to apply a skill, to the need to learn a skill, to the need to step back and think about what exactly one is doing, to the possibility of taking the time to get a clear view of what we are doing, and (in yet further stages, but for my purposes finally) the possibility of devoting much or most of one's intellectual energies to something like the pure consideration of the problems involved in getting a clear view: philosophy, mathematics, theoretical physics, basic research in any of the disciplines.
Some business school professors, and some business school students, perhaps dismiss the more abstract stages of this continuum. This is not unlike the scientists who think philosophy is a positive waste of time. It's not. If Alan Turing hadn't been interested in the question of what is computable, we might not have computers. If Hobbes and Locke hadn't been interested in justifying the scope and limits of legitimate government, we might not have our Constitution.
But a lot of business school profs, and a lot of businesses, don't take such a parochial view of the value of forms of intellectual labor. I would be surprised if UVA's business school faculty at the Darden school thought it was obvious that UVA should shift resources to on-line, etc., as fast as Dragas thought they should.
Putting the contrast in terms of activities that are merely instrumentally valuable because they allow you to survive or make money, and activities that are genuinely valuable in themselves, invites crude skepticism about the latter and comments about navel-gazing.
Similarly Brewer's positive recommendation: that the humanities, and our liberal arts institutions, encourage “a form of reflective self-cultivation that can and ought to be a continuous life activity”. There's a way this fits with what I said above: the humanities, and our universities, help people think about (as Douglas Adams put it) life, the universe and everything, in a way not forced by immediate contingencies. You could call that self-cultivation, since as you change your views about the big picture, your view of yourself, and hence you yourself, will change. But if we put it in terms of self-cultivation, again we're inviting the charge of a crude sort of elitism.
Take a hypothetical student. She gets to take the long view at college. This puts her in a position to be an effective innovator in some market today, say some sort of tech or media thing. Should we think of this as a kind of self-cultivation? She's cultivating her response to the world around her, and that is of course cultivating herself. But her focus isn't on herself; it's on the world around her. My hope as a philosopher would be to help her and encourage her to think at all levels of abstraction: how to solve this immediate problem in her business plan, but also to see clearly (to think clearly about, to formulate a clear understanding of) what she's doing in the world, in relation to the markets, to other people, to what she thinks is valuable.
Interesting piece sent along by reader Joe Hatfield--can any of the philosophers of physics (or physicists) out there comment on the adequacy of this presentation and the significance, if any, of all this?
With over 1200 votes cast, we see some definite improvement from the last time, though I think it's still fair to say there isn't as much love for philosophy of language as some of the other areas we have polled. Now 31% (up from 20%) view it as "a central, foundational part of the discipline," with another 21% (down from 29%) calling it a "major area of research" (presumably, per Chalmers's hypothesis, the difference is largely explaiend by folks moving to the most positive option once rewritten). 21% more think it "useful" when suitably integrated with the cognitive sciences and linguistics, while 7% think it only a "minor area of research." A robust, dissenting minority, 21%, chose the most negative option.
With over 1600 votes cast, only 20% chose the most favorable option regarding philosophy of language (a central, foundational part of the discipline), though another 29% did deem it a "major area of research," and another 24% thought it "useful" when suitably integrated with cognitive science and linguistics--so overall, nearly three-quarters were on the positive end of the spectrum. 7% deemed it only a "minor area," while 19% chose the most hostile and dismissive option.
Times have changed since the 1970s!
BL COMMENT: David Chalmers thinks I inadvertently "upped" the ante here for the first category:
The first option in the poll raised the bar by saying that philosophy of language is "first philosophy". That's usually understood as the Dummettian claim that the philosophy of language has priority over all other areas of philosophy. One can reject that claim while still thinking that philosophy of language is a central and foundational part of our discipline. I'm sure that many respondents to the poll, like me, hold that combination of views and chose the second option rather than the first for that reason.
Maybe that's right, though I would have urged him to choose the first option anyway since if you think philosophy of language is "a central, foundational part of the discipline" that's closer to thinking it's "first philosophy" than thinking it's a "major area of research." But I'm curious to hear whether other philosophers of language had this reaction? Comments open, signed comments please.
Here. (Thanks to Rik Hine for the pointer.) An excerpt:
TC: You started your career at one of the high points of English-speaking, analytic, Anglophone philosophy. What’s your view of the state of philosophy at the moment?
JS: I think it’s in terrible shape!
TC: Go on, tell me!
JS: Well, what has happened in the subject I started out with, the philosophy of language, is that, roughly speaking, formal modeling has replaced insight. My own conception is that the formal modeling by itself does not give us any insight into the function of language.
Any account of the philosophy of language ought to stick as closely as possible to the psychology of actual human speakers and hearers. And that doesn’t happen now. What happens now is that many philosophers aim to build a formal model where they can map a puzzling element of language onto the formal model, and people think that gives you an insight. I mean a most famous current example of this is the idea that you will explain counterfactuals – for example, if I had dropped this pen, it would have fallen to the ground – by appealing to possible worlds. And then you have a whole load of technical stuff about how to describe the possible worlds. Well I won’t say that’s a waste of time because very intelligent people do it, but I don’t think it gives us insight. It’s as if I said: Well the way to understand the sentence, ‘All ravens are black’, is that what it really means is that all non-black things are non-ravens. You can get a mapping of one sentence onto other sentences where each side has the same truth conditions, but that is not, in general, the right way to understand the sense of the original sentence. And it’s a philosophical question of why you don’t get the insight.
And this goes back to Russell’s Theory of Descriptions. You see, Russell gets uniqueness of reference by going through a whole domain, but that is logically and psychologically unrealistic. I think the notion of an object already contains the notion of uniqueness. I think this was a fatal move to think that you’ve got to get these intuitive ideas mapped on to a calculus like, in this case, the predicate calculus, which has its own requirements. It is a disastrously inadequate conception of language.
And this is pervading other areas of philosophy. Formal epistemology seems to me so boring. I’m sure there’s some merit in it, but it puts me to sleep. The requirements on formal modeling are that you must have something that’s difficult to do. There must be a right and a wrong way to do it, it must be objective, you must be able to teach it to graduate students, and you have to be able to tell who’s good at it and who isn’t. So those are the four features of formal modeling in philosophy, and I think they lead nowhere. That’s my main objection to contemporary philosophy: they’ve lost sight of the questions. It sounds ridiculous to say this because this was the objection that all the old fogeys made to us when I was a kid in Oxford and we were investigating language. But that is why I’m really out of sympathy. And I’m going to write a book on the philosophy of language in which I will say how I think it ought to be done, and how we really should try to stay very close to the psychological reality of what it is to actually talk about things.
With almost 1700 votes, 56% deemed it a "central, foundational part of the discipline," with another 14% thinking it a "major area of research"--so a bit more than two-thirds gave the most favorable responses. Another 13% thought epistemology "useful when informed by the cognitive and empirical sciences," while a mere 3% described epistemology as a "minor area of research." 15% expressed no love for epistemology, choosing the option that described epistemology as "armchair bullshit and irrelevant puzzles" of no interest to anyone other than some professional philosophers.
armchair bullshit and irrelevant puzzles of no interest to anyone but a handful of philosophers. - See more at: http://leiterreports.typepad.com/blog/2014/06/next-reader-poll-what-do-you-think-of-epistemology.html#sthash.0JgXIyq2.dpuf
armchair bullshit and irrelevant puzzles of no interest to anyone but a handful of philosophers. - See more at: http://leiterreports.typepad.com/blog/2014/06/next-reader-poll-what-do-you-think-of-epistemology.html#sthash.0JgXIyq2.dpuf
A PhD graduate student in political theory writes:
I'm an avid reader of your Leiter Reports blog, and I thought I'd contact you with a question closely related to some posts from several years back (though you may have added some updates more recently). You've posted several times in response to questions from prospective graduate students deciding between political philosophy and political theory; I'd be curious, by contrast, to hear your or other philosophers' opinions about switching from political theory to philosophy, or alternatively, completing an additional philosophy Ph.D. after the political science doctorate. To describe my situation briefly: I was accepted to both philosophy and political science programs coming out of my undergrad and opted to go into political theory largely because of my predominant interests in continental thought and the chance to work with [name omitted]. However, now that I'm well into a dissertation, I find my interests have moved much further away from the more institutional considerations of political theorists into deeper questions in epistemology, philosophy of mind, and ethics. My question is whether you're familiar with any situations similar to mine and whether, in your view, it is generally feasible for people to make the move to philosophy from other programs. I imagine, for example, that it may not be uncommon for people to come into philosophy after completing degree programs in cognitive or computer science, but in other situations would the prior doctoral work seem like an upside or a downside, an advantageous background or a lack of commitment?
I would think such a move is feasible, and that for the right philosophy department, the background in political theory (at a leading poli sci department) would be an asset. But what do readers think?
Over 1700 responses to our most recent poll, and here are the results: a bit more than half (54%) thought it "a central, foundational part of the discipline," while another 22% deemed it an "important area of research"--so fully three-quarters of respondents thought it a significant field. 11% conceded it was "useful" when informed by the empirical sciences, while 4% thought it only a "minor" area of research. 9% chose the most critical response, deeming it "pointless emoting by bourgeois academics" of "sociological, not philosophical interest."
I'll do a few more of these, and then aggregate all the results in a single post.
Continuing with my series polling the readership, we turn now to theoretical ethics, broadly construed, but excluding bioethics, business ethics, environmental ethics, and the like. (I also want to exclude metaethics proper, i.e., work on the semantics and metaphysics of morality and value, but I realize that border can be fuzzy.) As before, the answers are a bit caricatured, choose the one closest to your view, even if you'd express it differently.
They seem to like it more than metaphysics! With over 2000 votes cast, 55% said "history of philosophy is philosophy," being a "central, foundational part of the discipline," with another 25% deeming it an "important area of research"--so fully 80% chose the most positive options. Another 12% thought it "useful" if it contributes to "contemporary research," while 6% thought it a "minor area of research." A mere 2% chose the most hostile option: "just say 'no' to the history of philosophy" (compare that to the 20% who chose the most hostile option for metaphysics). I confess I wouldn't have predicted these results, but this suggests suppositions some readers make about who reads this blog (or about Anglophone philosophers) are misplaced.
History of philosophy is philosophy: it is a central, foundational part of the discipline.
Philosophers/psychologists Andrei Cimpian, Ian Harmon, and Zachary Horne (Illinois, Urbana-Champaign) write:
We are interested in conducting a linguistic analysis of the arguments used to defend fallibilism and infallibilism about knowledge. Our hope is to analyze the top papers defending each of these views. In order to collect a representative sample of papers of this sort, we invite readers of Leiter Reports to help us with this project by filling out the following survey: https://uiuc.qualtrics.com/SE/?SID=SV_a5lChJgOaJjRazH. We estimate that the survey should take 2-3 minutes of your time. Thanks for your help!
...at 3AM. I found this part of the interview particularly striking, and I suspect Prof. Dawes's observations are accurate:
3:AM: David Chalmers has done a survey that suggests that although most philosophers are atheists most philosophers of religion are not. Why do you think that philosophers generally don’t seem to be bothered that the sub group specializing in philosophizing about religion are disagreeing with them? It’s a strange situation isn’t it, that a sub group of experts are disregarded by the rest of the field.
GD: Yes, but it’s an interesting fact, and it tells us something about the nature of religious faith and its relation to reason.
Christian philosopher William Lane Craig writes somewhere about what he calls the “ministerial” and the “magisterial” use of reason. (It’s a traditional view — he’s merely citing Martin Luther — and one that Craig endorses.) On this view, the task of reason is to find arguments in support of the faith and to counter any arguments against it. Reason is not, however, the basis of the Christian’s faith. The basis of the Christian’s faith is (what she takes to be) the “internal testimony of the Holy Spirit” in her heart. Nor can rational reflection be permitted to undermine that faith. The commitment of faith is irrevocable; to fall away from it is sinful, indeed the greatest of sins.
It follows that while the arguments put forward by many Christian philosophers are serious arguments, there is something less than serious about the spirit in which they are being offered. There is a direction in which those arguments will not be permitted to go. Arguments that support the faith will be seriously entertained; those that apparently undermine the faith must be countered, at any cost. Philosophy, to use the traditional phrase, is merely a “handmaid” of theology.
There is, to my mind, something frivolous about a philosophy of this sort. My feeling is that if we do philosophy, it ought to be because we take arguments seriously. This means following them wherever they lead. This may sound naïve. There are moral commitments, for instance, that few of us would be prepared to abandon, even if we lacked good arguments in their support. But if the followers are Hume are right, there is a close connection between our moral beliefs and our moral sentiments that would justify this attitude. In any case, even in matters of morality, we should not be maintaining positions that have lots of arguments against them and few in their favour, just because we have made a commitment to do so.
So why does the philosophy of religion have such a marginal status within the philosophical community? It may be (as some Christians assert) because atheist philosophers “love darkness more than light,” but I suspect it’s because many atheist philosophers not only find the arguments unconvincing but also regard this style of philosophy as distasteful.
This is the second in a series of polls I intend to run to gauge who is reading and where we are as a field. The proposed answers are obviously somewhat caricutured, please pick the one closest to your own view.
With over 1800 votes in the earlier poll, here's what we learned about reader opinions on contemporary Anglophone metaphysics:
The vast majority of respondents were favorably disposed. 29% think it a "central and foundational part of the discipline," while another 21% deem it "an important area of contemporary research." Another 21% deem it "useful when pursued in tandem with actual scientific results" (some of them may be more skeptical otherwise), while 8% think it is only "a minor area of philosophy, but worth pursuing." But a non-trivial minority, 20%, think metaphysics is "armchair bullshit, I can't believe it's back!"
This is the first in a series of polls I intend to run to gauge who is reading and where we are as a field. The proposed answers are obviously somewhat caricutured, please pick the one closest to your own view.
A self-identified "analytic" philosopher in a non-English speaking country writes:
I was wondering if you could ask the question below in your blog. The topic is very important to professional philosophers from outside the English-speaking world and they will most likely benefit from the comments of your readers.
In ‘The Language of Publication of "Analytic" Philosophy’, Rodriguez-Pereyra argued that original research in analytical philosophy should be published exclusively in English. Assuming he is right, analytical philosophers from non-English speaking countries should stop publishing research in their native languages and start publishing in English. Assuming also that those analytical philosophers would be willing to give a fair visibility to their work, they should try to publish their research if not in top journals, at least in well-recognized ones. What happens is that if the task of publishing in well-recognized journals is difficult for philosophers from the best departments of the English-speaking world, it is even more difficult for those philosophers from outside this circle. Apart from the difficulties that stem from the very fact of writing in a non-native language, I think there are two main problems.
The first was pointed out by by Gualtiero Piccinini. He mentioned that given “the difficulty of publishing in good journals, this system actually creates incentives against publishing in good, international journals: other things being equal, those who devote their efforts to publishing in international journals will publish less than those who publish in local journals, and then they will be at a disadvantage”.
The second problem is the lack of feedback that philosophers from outside the English-speaking countries have. The rationale for this is quite simple: If one needs to publish in a well-recognized journal, one will need to have a paper worthy of it. It means one has to have a paper comparable with those produced by the best philosophers from the best departments. Those philosophers normally receive tons of feedback from colleagues and colloquia before submitting the paper. This just does not happen in (at least) some countries where people do not simply know how to give good feedback and colloquia are mostly “praise time” with no criticism allowed. The only way out is trying to get feedback from abroad. And this is just a very hard thing to get.
The natural way to do this is via e-mail: I have a draft and send an e-mail to someone who I know is interested in the topic of my paper. Well, it may be me, but most of the time I get no answers. But I can imagine what can be the common reasons: First, professional philosophers are too busy. They have their own work to manage, and are loaded with papers from their colleagues and students that they are expected to give feedback. Second, receiving such an e-mail may be a little unpleasant and invasive. So, my question is: What is the best way to ask for feedback for those who are outside the main circles of philosophy? I think a similar problem may happen with those philosophers who despite being in English-speaking countries come from small universities.
We haven't run one of these threads in a few years, and I have gotten a few requests for new ones in recent months. So let's start with ethics, construed broadly, but excluded applied ethics topics (which we can consider separately). So what do readers take to be the most lively issues of discussion currently? Signed comments will be strongly preferred; and don't just name topics, give some explanation, literature references, etc.
I usually ignore The Stone blog--its quality is, on average, low and it's a scandal for philosophy to be represented in public by a blog "moderated" by a sophomoric hack like Simon Critchley--but this piece by Paul Horwich (NYU) is timely given our recent poll. It starts on an odd note, claiming that,
Apart from a small and ignored clique of hard-core supporters the usual view these days is that his writing is self-indulgently obscure and that behind the catchy slogans there is little of intellectual value. But this dismissal disguises what is pretty clearly the real cause of Wittgenstein’s unpopularity within departments of philosophy: namely, his thoroughgoing rejection of the subject as traditionally and currently practiced; his insistence that it can’t give us the kind of knowledge generally regarded as its raison d’être.
If Wittgenstein is actually "unpopular...within departments of philosophy," then it is odd that hundreds of philosophers declared Wittgenstein "the most important" philosopher of the past 200 years! But once we get beyond the stage-setting, Horwich's blog posting is quite interesting. He writes:
Wittgenstein claims that there are no realms of phenomena whose study is the special business of a philosopher, and about which he or she should devise profound a priori theories and sophisticated supporting arguments. There are no startling discoveries to be made of facts, not open to the methods of science, yet accessible “from the armchair” through some blend of intuition, pure reason and conceptual analysis. Indeed the whole idea of a subject that could yield such results is based on confusion and wishful thinking.
So far, this is just Quinean naturalism, not anything distinctively Wittgensteinian. If you want to know what there is and what we know, well those are scientific questions, and philosophers might, at best, help tidy up the best scientific theories, but there is no "special business of the philosopher," no "a priori theories" on offer.
This attitude is in stark opposition to the traditional view, which continues to prevail. Philosophy is respected, even exalted, for its promise to provide fundamental insights into the human condition and the ultimate character of the universe, leading to vital conclusions about how we are to arrange our lives. It’s taken for granted that there is deep understanding to be obtained of the nature of consciousness, of how knowledge of the external world is possible, of whether our decisions can be truly free, of the structure of any just society, and so on — and that philosophy’s job is to provide such understanding. Isn’t that why we are so fascinated by it?
If so, then we are duped and bound to be disappointed, says Wittgenstein. For these are mere pseudo-problems, the misbegotten products of linguistic illusion and muddled thinking. So it should be entirely unsurprising that the “philosophy” aiming to solve them has been marked by perennial controversy and lack of decisive progress — by an embarrassing failure, after over 2000 years, to settle any of its central issues. Therefore traditional philosophical theorizing must give way to a painstaking identification of its tempting but misguided presuppositions and an understanding of how we ever came to regard them as legitimate. But in that case, he asks, “[w]here does [our] investigation get its importance from, since it seems only to destroy everything interesting, that is, all that is great and important? (As it were all the buildings, leaving behind only bits of stone and rubble)” — and answers that “(w)hat we are destroying is nothing but houses of cards and we are clearing up the ground of language on which they stand.”
This is a striking articulation of what has always struck me as the non-sequitur at the heart of Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein and Quine agree that there are no distinctively philosophical methods (conceptual analysis, a priori reason, intuition, etc.) for discovering "the ultimate character of the universe," but Quine's conclusion is that we should consult those disciplines whose a posterioi methods have proved fruitful at discovering these things, while Wittgenstein's is to dismiss these questions as "mere pseudo-problems."
Horwich's nice explanation of the "four related claims" Wittgenstein makes in support of his skepticism about philosophy is helpful on this score:
— The first is that traditional philosophy is scientistic: its primary goals, which are to arrive at simple, general principles, to uncover profound explanations, and to correct naïve opinions, are taken from the sciences. And this is undoubtedly the case.
—The second is that the non-empirical (“armchair”) character of philosophical investigation — its focus on conceptual truth — is in tension with those goals. That’s because our concepts exhibit a highly theory-resistant complexity and variability. They evolved, not for the sake of science and its objectives, but rather in order to cater to the interacting contingencies of our nature, our culture, our environment, our communicative needs and our other purposes. As a consequence the commitments defining individual concepts are rarely simple or determinate, and differ dramatically from one concept to another. Moreover, it is not possible (as it is within empirical domains) to accommodate superficial complexity by means of simple principles at a more basic (e.g. microscopic) level.
— The third main claim of Wittgenstein’s metaphilosophy — an immediate consequence of the first two — is that traditional philosophy is necessarily pervaded with oversimplification; analogies are unreasonably inflated; exceptions to simple regularities are wrongly dismissed.
— Therefore — the fourth claim — a decent approach to the subject must avoid theory-construction and instead be merely “therapeutic,” confined to exposing the irrational assumptions on which theory-oriented investigations are based and the irrational conclusions to which they lead.
I take it a Quinean naturalist can agree with versions of 1-3, but will view the fourth claim as a non-sequitur. If you want to know what there is and what we know, leave the armchair and avail yourself of fruitful methodologies. What is the Wittgensteinian argument against this, if there is one? Why isn't #4 a non-sequitur. (We had an excellent thread on being "Drebenized" years ago which may be relevant to this discussion.)
Comments welcome; signed comments very strongly preferred.
I closed the poll after 510 votes because it got linked by one non-philosophy site; as it is, it isn't clear to me that everyone voting was answering the question asked (about pernicious influence on philosophy), but perhaps we'll find out in discussion. In any case, here were the top 20
1. Martin Heidegger (Condorcet winner: wins contests with all other choices)
2. G.W.F. Hegel loses to Martin Heidegger by 211–124
3. Michel Foucault loses to Martin Heidegger by 253–81, loses to G.W.F. Hegel by 197–112
4. Ludwig Wittgenstein loses to Martin Heidegger by 259–112, loses to Michel Foucault by 184–145
5. Theodor Adorno loses to Martin Heidegger by 240–68, loses to Ludwig Wittgenstein by 176–120
6. Rene Descartes loses to Martin Heidegger by 263–100, loses to Theodor Adorno by 150–113
7. Friedrich Nietzsche loses to Martin Heidegger by 262–92, loses to Rene Descartes by 158–153
8. Immanuel Kant loses to Martin Heidegger by 273–85, loses to Friedrich Nietzsche by 163–155
9. Karl Marx loses to Martin Heidegger by 267–73, loses to Immanuel Kant by 160–122
10. Soren Kierkegaard loses to Martin Heidegger by 285–41, loses to Immanuel Kant by 157–111
11. Jean-Paul Sartre loses to Martin Heidegger by 270–59, loses to Karl Marx by 141–122
12. Henri Bergson loses to Martin Heidegger by 259–45, loses to Jean-Paul Sartre by 125–90
13. Edmund Husserl loses to Martin Heidegger by 286–36, loses to Henri Bergson by 122–85
14. W.V.O. Quine loses to Martin Heidegger by 273–87, loses to Edmund Husserl by 127–121
15. Karl Popper loses to Martin Heidegger by 276–73, loses to W.V.O. Quine by 135–104
16. Rudolf Carnap loses to Martin Heidegger by 272–67, loses to Karl Popper by 119–105
17. David K. Lewis loses to Martin Heidegger by 269–72, loses to Rudolf Carnap by 114–108
18. G.E.M. Anscombe loses to Martin Heidegger by 267–49, loses to David K. Lewis by 110–96
19. John Dewey loses to Martin Heidegger by 265–52, loses to G.E.M. Anscombe by 101–90
20. George Berkeley loses to Martin Heidegger by 273–54, loses to G.E.M. Anscombe by 97–86
Runners-up: J.L. Austin loses to Martin Heidegger by 266–55, loses to David K. Lewis by 117–96
Donald Davidson loses to Martin Heidegger by 278–60, loses to J.L. Austin by 115–84
I confess the results are genuinely puzzling. Mindless hate for Continental figures? Maybe. Three of my favorite philosophers are in the top ten (Foucault, Nietzsche, Marx), though I can agree that Foucault did have some pernicious influence on other philosophers. But Nietzsche? Maybe if influence based on misunderstanding counts. Heidegger, Hegel, Wittgenstein, and (I think) Kant were all in my "top ten" for most pernicious influence, but I imagine my reasons may not have been the typical ones. But Descartes? He seems to be in odd company here! I would have expected both Quine and D.K. Lewis to rate more highly, because they both are representative of a kind of philosophy that has both strong adherents and strong detractors. Perhaps they weren't deemed to be important and influential enough to qualify as having a pernicious influence?
The strength of "dislike" as measured by ranking a philosopher #1 for pernicious influence varies quite a bit, and doesn't entirely track the top 20 ranking. Heidegger, to be sure, leads with 105 #1 votes, and Wittgenstein and Hegel are next up with 49 #1 votes each. But Kant (#8 overall) is not far behind with 37 #1 votes, well ahead of Nietzsche (17 #1 votes), Marx (29 #1 votes), Foucault (12 #1 votes), and Adorno (also 12 #1 votes). Indeed, it is surelys triking that "top ten" philosophers like Nietzsche, Foucault and Adorno got fewer #1 votes than Quine (24 #1 votes), David K. Lewis (20 #1 votes), and Descartes (33 #1 votes). David Hume, who was nowhere near the top 20, received 10 #1 votes as most "pernicious." Others who appeared in the "top 20" who received relatively little intense hate: Sartre (6 #1 votes), Kierkegaard and Popper (8 #1 votes each), and Anscombe (no #1 votes). Of course, perhaps these are judgments that these figures, while "pernicious" in their influence, aren't influential enough to warrant a #1 ranking.
Comments are open for readers to explain their votes. Signed comments will be preferred. I'll weigh in with my own explanation after awhile.
In the past we've done surveys of the "most important" or "influential" philosophers of the modern era or the last 200 years. This poll is slightly different: we've taken the philosophers ranked in the top 25ish of the earlier surveys, but are now asking which of these philosophers have had the most pernicious influence on philosophy. I've limited this to serious philosophers, so no charlatans like Derrida or amateurs like Rand, but only important philosophers (no longer living) whose influence might not be deemed to have been salutary. Rank order the philosophers from most to least pernicious in their influence on philosophy (not on the world at large)(you can choose "no opinion" as well, which is certainly a tempting choice for many of these no doubt). Have fun!
Also, don't rank philosophers unless you have read them!
This is from the title essay of one of his new collections, Analytic Philosophy in America and Other Historical and Contemporary Essays (Princeton, 2014), p. 7:
[A]nalytic philosophy is not a fixed body of substantive doctrine, a precise methodology, or a radical break with most traditional philosophy of the past--save for varieties of romanticism, theism, and absolute idealism. Instead, it is a discrete historical tradition steeming from Frege, Moore, Russell, Wittgenstein and the logical positivists, characterized by respect for science and common sense, belief in the relevance of logic and language for philosophy, emphasis on precision and clarity in argumentation, suspicion of apriori metaphysics, and elevation of the goals of truth and knowledge over inspiration, moral uplift, and spiritual comfort--plus a dose of professional specialization.
A propos an earlier item, philosopher Bryan Frances (Fordham) writes: "I agree with the post about the non-career-oriented value of philosophy. Nevertheless, loads of students ask about careers and philosophy, as you know." Professor Frances kindly shared two "prezis" he made about philosophy and careers: a long version and a short version, the latter of which he says is "better for the classroom."
Continental Philosophy Farhang Erfani, a philosopher at American University, provides a useful set of links to news, events, interviews, reviews, videos, etc. related to "Continental philosophy" (broadly construed)