Daniel Andler

Scholars from various philosophical schools of thought, including cultural relativism, hermeneutics, and postmodernism, have recently critiqued rationalism in light of new developments in the cognitive sciences. Each of these new developments set into motion new inquiries in each school philosophical school of thought. Now, in Facets of Rationality, a distinguished team of scholars examines these new inquiries and bring rationality back into the mainstream of the social sciences. The unique feature of this book lies in its multidisciplinary exploration of rational concerns and in discovering the integral meaning of rationality as viewed by the perspectives of different disciplines. As such, it will of considerable interest to those involved with the study and teaching of philosophy, theoretical psychology, cognitive science, political theory, and linguistics.

Conventional wisdom holds two seemingly opposed beliefs. One is that communities are often much better than individuals at dealing with certain situations or solving certain problems. The other is that crowds are usually, and some say always, at best as intelligent as their least intelligent members and at worst even less. Consistency would seem to be easily re-established by distinguishing between advanced, sophisticated social organizations which afford the supporting communities a high level of collective performance, and primitive, mob-like structures which pull the group towards the lower end of the achievement scale. But this reconciliation meets with some objections. The most familiar ones concern the mixed record of elaborate social systems, which are said to occasionally or even, according to some accounts, systematically produce wrong decisions, poor assessments, disastrous plans, counterproductive measures, etc. A more recent set of objections rests on cases where ‘crowds’, i,e, groups not organized in a sophisticated way, produce good results, in fact, results which better those of most, or even all, members of the group. Such cases are collected in James Surowiecki’s book The Wisdom of Crowds, which argues more generally in favor of an ‘order out of chaos’ view of collective thinking: whether sophisticated or simple, social organizations for the production of knowledge or problem-solving can benefit from the absence of certain individualistc constraints which are traditionally thought to foster excellence in cognitive tasks. This flavor of paradox is enhanced by Surowiecki’s choice of phrase: at the surface level, ‘wisdom of crowds’ conflicts with the well-entrenched cliché of the folly1 of crowds; but at a deeper level, Surowiecki seems to appeal to one frequent connotation of ‘wisdom’ which is precisely its paradoxical character. Whether Surowiecki actually intended to exploit this..

David Atkinson asks whether nonempirical constructions can lead to genuine knowledge in science, and answers in the negative. Thought experiments, in his view, are to be commended only insofar as they eventually lead to real experiments. The claim does not rely on a general study, conceptual or historical, of thought experiments as such: the range of the paper is at once narrower and broader. Atkinson views thought experiments as commonly understood as just one kind of episode in the development of physics in which real experimentation is bypassed, and he believes that such episodes are justified only inasmuch as they are transitory stages on the way to genuine empirical inquiry. Atkinson wants to kill with one arrow what is usually regarded as two different birds: the notion that thought experiments proper can be persuasive in themselves, and the thesis that theories which cannot be brought to the tribunal of experience can nevertheless belong to science. He thus implicitly opposes three views which are commonly, albeit not universally, held: (i) some thought experiments are conclusive; (ii) some theories belong to science despite not being evidently and concretely amenable to empirical corroboration; (iii) the two issues are largely independent. The standpoint from which Atkinson operates is a rather strict form of empiricism, one which relies on a fairly sharp distinction between the conceptual and empirical dimensions of inquiry. My outlook is rather different: the conceptual and empirical seem to me to be intertwined, both conceptually, as suggested by Quine’s critique of logical positivism, and empirically, as revealed by the evidence provided by science itself in its daily and historical reality. Rather than take the high road, I propose to focus first on the critique to which Atkinson subjects Galileo’s thought experiment, and the lessons he draws from his analysis..

When scientists are at work, they are busy ‘naturalizing’ their domain. This applies, without qualification, to natural scientists. In the sciences of man (which I will understand in the broadest sense, as including the social sciences), the issue is moot. This raises a problem for cognitive scientists, a vast majority of whom think of themselves as natural scientists. Yet theirs, to a large extent, is a science of man. Cognitive scientists are, it would seem, in the business of naturalizing man, and while this, to them, is unproblematic, it raises considerable difficulties to many, whether philosophers or social scientists of antinaturalist persuasion, or lay people wondering what the ultimate goals of cognitive science are and how far it should be expected to achieve these goals. Among his many duties, the philosopher of cognitive science, part of whose job is to clarify assumptions made, concepts used, methods deployed, at all levels of the field, and to try and situate the enterprise within the wider context, has the legitimate worry that misunderstandings, both within and outside cognitive science, might durably prevent the articulation of its viewpoint with those elaborated by the other sciences of man. The philosopher is thus intent on bringing forth an understanding of the enterprise of cognitive science, as free as possible of the ‘idols of the tribe’ (the field’s own self-aggrandizing prejudices) and of the ‘idols of the marketplace’ (the allegations of ‘tunnel vision’ and ‘reductionism’).

Many attempts have been made to define analytic philosophy in a nonhistorical or otherwise deictic way, and to provide a set of necessary and sufficient conditions for a piece of philosophical work to be part of analytic philosophy. This is more difficult than might appear, for the conditions appealed to are normative and must be claimed by non-analytic philosophers to apply to their production as well. In fact, no such set of conditions has been forthcoming, and it is unlikely that it ever will. Instead, I offer a holistic characterization of analytic philosophy as a mode of organization of philosophical work modeled on science. This accounts for analytic philosophy’s success in the academic world, its pedagogic virtues, and its ability to expand beyond its initial boundaries. Two related questions remain: one about the indirect justification analytic philosophy might be granted from outside of philosophy, the other about its ability to make contact with cultural realms other than those with which it has until now established a fruitful exchange. The answers are crucial for the potential renewal of analytic philosophy.