When I was in university 30 years ago, strategy was strictly an educational exercise and there were limited resources accessible for individuals, like me, who see strategy more as a lifestyle or avocation than as a job.
Today, yet, all that has changed.
There are 3 or 4 good “magazines” about strategy – including Philosophy Then and The Philosopher’s Magazine – that are filled with funny, off-beat, irreverent articles about philosophical topics. A amount of top-rate publishing houses, largely in the UK, including Routledge and Blackwell Publishing, provide books aimed at a general philosophical readership.
There are strategy radio programs like Philosophy Talk, coffee houses, salons, adult knowledge classes and virtually hundreds of sites for the interested reader. There are even strategy comic books, including LogiComix about the lifetime of British logician Bertrand Russell. It’s just amazing. It’s a golden age of strategy, I think.
The irony, nonetheless, is the fact that there continues to be no strong consensus on what, exactly, strategy really is. In its historic and etymological sense, strategy is virtually “love (philia) of wisdom (Sophia),” and that is usually how I have looked upon it. Philosophy, for me, is the attempt to reflect upon experience in purchase to know much more about lifetime and how we are to reside. My aims, like those of Socrates, are mainly practical: I like to recognize the planet and myself to reside greater.
Today, there are 3, possibly 4 main “schools” or approaches to strategy, each with their own journals, intellectual heroes and methodologies. It is regarded as the scandals of modern strategy that these universities are somewhat incommensurable, meaning they are thus different in their approaches and ideals they are virtually unable of talking to 1 another. It’s as though natural chemistry and 17th century French literature are forced to share the same offices and pretend they are the same discipline (I exaggerate but you receive the point).
The initial approach might be called, for deficiency of the greater word, Traditional Philosophy: this might be the approach today mostly taught just in Catholic universities. It is basically famous in orientation, a “history of philosophy” fashion in which pupils study the considered, state, the historic Greeks, and Descartes, the British empiricists, Kant, Hegel and so forth. There is pretty small attempt to think through how the considered these philosophical greats is reconciled. The idea appears to be that by working through all of these desirable thinkers, eventually the student comes to their own philosophical conclusions — although there is truly no fixed “method” or approach provided for doing this. I always think of the as the University of Chicago or Great Books approach. A variation of the approach is Catholic strategy, including many universities of Thomism (like the Transcendental Thomism of Merechal, Karl Rahner and, my guru, Bernard J.F. Lonergan)
The 2nd main approach to strategy now is what exactly is well-known as Continental Philosophy. This really is the strategy that is many commonly taught in Europe and, again, in some Catholic universities in the U.S. In practice, it signifies basically the philosophical systems of phenomenology, existentialism, so-called “critical theory” and their postmodern descendants. When I was in university, this might be what I studied (in addition to conventional philosophy). We read the classic texts of phenomenology and also such fashionable philosophers because Jean-Paul Sartre, Merleau-Ponty, Heidegger, Karl Jaspers, Max Scheler, Edith Stein and others. Today, those names have mostly been changed by those of postmodern French thinkers including Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, Jean Baudrillard, Jean-François Lyotard. While classical Husserlian phenomenology does attempt to “solve” main philosophical difficulties and really be a descriptive research, in practice pupils of Continental Philosophy, like their Traditional Philosophy counterparts, spend much of their time studying the functions of individual thinkers and composing papers on aspects of their thought. (There is a better interest in Continental Philosophy in social and political issues, nevertheless.)
The 3rd and allegedly dominant approach to strategy now is Analytic Philosophy. This really is the strategy many commonly taught in the UK and in main U.S. universities. Built upon the infrastructure of British empiricists like David Hume, Analytic Philosophy appeared in the early 20th century through the work of such thinkers as Bertrand Russell, Gottlob Frege, G.E. Moore and Ludwig Wittgenstein. When I was in university, I found Analytic Philosophy to be largely unintelligible gibberish. The focus on symbolic logic and the solving of trivial intellectual “puzzles” was, to me, an absurd waste of time.
In the previous limited years, nonetheless, I’ve been reading much more about Analytic Philosophy and I am today more impressed. Analytic Philosophy has matured over the previous limited years and is today more of the philosophical “style” than it is actually a collection of doctrines. The design is a bit more that way of my hero, Bernard J.F. Lonergan, in that Analytic Philosophy is more interested in really solving philosophical difficulties than it really is in clarifying the considered previous philosophers. Thus, Analytic Philosophy is characterized by a thematic, instead of a “history of strategy,” approach. It utilizes or creates a specialized technical vocabulary to elucidate the different “options” obtainable in any provided philosophical matter — marshals the evidence in favor or against those choices — and then tries to really “settle” the matter. It’s really very refreshing.
The just issue with Analytic Philosophy within the perspective of the conventional philosopher or “lover of wisdom” is the fact that it’s nevertheless focused basically on trivial issues or mere puzzles (possibly because those are the simplest ones to “solve”). Academic analytic strategy is frequently little over “chloroform in print,” boring to the point of dispatching its visitors into a catatonic stupor. The remedy for this tedium has been, over the previous years, the appearance of those favored strategy journals and publishing houses I stated earlier. Precisely because they are aiming at a wider audience, the prevalent strategy authors have to turn their attention to the Big Issues that interest real individuals – and therefore are forced by the marketplace to abandon the tedium beloved by academics and employ their philosophical abilities to address topics folks really care about. An illustration of how fantastic this is is a book I am reading now, Michael Sandel’s magisterial Justice. It’s well-defined, concise, lays open the many choices accessible on contentious issues, concerns severe topics (what exactly is justice?) and doesn’t resort to pretentious displays of symbolic logic to create its points.
These days, I largely read superior Catholic strategy (including is found in the American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly or Method: A Journal of Lonergan Studies ) and “popular” analytic books including Justice or those yielded by Routledge. I still can’t read educational analytic strategy journals. I tried subscribing to Faith and Philosophy, the (largely analytic) diary of the Society of Christian Philosophers, but found it fatal dull and exhibiting the worst aspects of analytic pretentiousness. Here’s a test, taken from John Turri’s essay, “Practical and Epistemic Justification in Alston’s Perceiving God” (July 2008, p. 290):
“Alston’s thesis is the fact that putative perceptions of God usually justify values about God. A topic S has a putative perception of God when S has an experience e in which it appears to S that God appears to S as P. If, based on e, S forms the “M-belief” that God is P, then S has a justified belief that God is P. An M-belief is a belief that God is P, that is based on a putative perception of God. (I might usually substitute ‘q’ for the proposition that God is P.) I dunno. My response to composing that way is the same as George Will’s: Simply because lifetime is absurd that doesn’t mean strategy ought to be too.
I don’t mean to choose on John Turri, whom I am certain is a awesome man along with a lot smarter than I am. But this type of stuff is meant only for expert philosophers in universities — and is mostly what turns persons off to strategy as an educational discipline. If Socrates had spoken that way, they possibly would have forced him to drink hemlock much earlier and strategy would not have gotten off the ground.