Philip Kitcher

A landmark work of environmental philosophy that seeks to transform the debate about climate change. As the icecaps melt and the sea levels rise around the globe—threatening human existence as we know it—climate change has become one of the most urgent and controversial issues of our time. For most people, however, trying to understand the science, politics, and arguments on either side can be dizzying, leading to frustrating and unproductive debates. Now, in this groundbreaking new work, two of our most renowned thinkers present the realities of global warming in the most human of terms—everyday conversation—showing us how to convince even the most stubborn of skeptics as to why we need to act now. Indeed, through compelling Socratic dialogues, Philip Kitcher and Evelyn Fox Keller tackle some of the thorniest questions facing mankind today: Is climate change real? Is climate change as urgent as the “scientists” make it out to be? How much of our current way of life should we sacrifice to help out a generation that won’t even be born for another hundred years? Who would pay for the enormous costs of making the planet "green?" What sort of global political arrangement would be needed for serious action? These crucial questions play out through familiar circumstances, from an older husband and wife considering whether they should reduce their carbon footprint, to a first date that evolves into a passionate discussion about whether one person can actually make a difference, to a breakfast that becomes an examination over whether or not global warming is really happening. Entertaining, widely accessible, and thoroughly original, the result promises to inspire dialogue in many places, while also giving us a line of reasoning that explodes the so-far impenetrable barriers of obfuscation that have surrounded the discussion. While the Paris Agreement was an historic achievement that brought solutions within the realm of possibility, The Seasons Alter is a watershed book that will show us how to make those possibilities a reality.

This article is intended as a precis of The Main Enterprise of the World and hopes to orient those who have not read it to the symposium discussion that follows. It outlines my own version of a radical rethinking of education. Instead of holding that educational systems should be shaped so as to satisfy socio-economic constraints, interpreted narrowly in recent decades to emphasize the preparation of the young to compete in the global economy, it proposes to view education as ‘the main enterprise of the world’ (in Emerson's resonant phrase). I attempt to harmonize three important educational goals: equipping people to maintain themselves; providing the opportunity for fulfilling lives; and creating citizens who can live and work together to sustain democratic societies. The notion of fulfillment is elaborated by following J. S. Mill in emphasizing individual freedom to ‘pursue one's own good in one's own way’, and requiring the chosen project to contribute to a transhistorical pan-human enterprise. This requires a serious probing of the concept of autonomy. I argue that the reworked notion is closely linked to capacities for democratic deliberation, and, like Dewey, I view regular exchanges among citizens as crucial for genuine democracy. In light of these perspectives, shifts in the labor market, brought about by increasing automation, provide the opportunity for people to undertake rewarding (and properly respected) service work, participating throughout their lives in the education of others. The resulting position has curricular consequences, and these in turn require social and economic changes. I conclude by defending the approach I have sketched against charges of utopianism.

I offer some responses to the principal points raised by Ben Kotzee, Alexis Gibbs, Sheron Fraser-Burgess, and Nigel Tubbs in their commentaries on my book, The Main Enterprise of the World: Rethinking Education (MEW), and to John White's penetrating and constructive review (the four commentaries and White's review all appear in this issue). In reply to Kotzee's challenge, I argue that MEW supports an improved approach to specialized scientific education, and that worries about the future of technology are unfounded. Gibbs’ critique, I contend, assumes a one-size-fits-all approach to the arts, in an area where I am concerned to make fine differentiations. Fraser-Burgess is right to wonder how my educational program can overcome the problems of multicultural, multiracial, multiethnic societies, but I maintain that the approach to educating citizens MEW outlines is the appropriate means to address those problems. Finally, I am happy to modify my conception of the Deweyan Society by introducing the kinds of Socratic explorations Tubbs proposes.John White introduces a number of significant issues and concerns. Some of these arise, I claim, from his adoption of familiar versions of concepts MEW takes pains to explicate in new ways. Since I argue for the superiority of my explicated versions, I view the correct strategy to involve discarding the presuppositions of the traditional notions White favours. With respect to moral education, for example, White's ‘precept-centered’ conception contrasts with my emphasis on the fundamental importance of skills of mutual engagement. His most extensive discussion, on my approach to fulfilment, poses a deep challenge. Here, I attempt to clarify and motivate the concepts I deploy. With respect to his review, however, as with my exchanges with the other commentators, this response can only be the beginning of what I hope will continue to be a fruitful conversation.

Militant modern atheism, whose most eloquent champion is Richard Dawkins, provides an effective and necessary critique of fundamentalist forms of religion and their role in political life, both within states and across national boundaries. Because it is also presented as a more general attack on religion tout court, it has provoked a severe reaction from scholars who regard its conception of religion as shallow and narrow. My aim is to examine this debate, identifying insights and oversights on both sides. Two distinct conceptions of religion are in play. For Dawkins and his allies (most notably Dan Dennett), religions are grounded in doctrines, propositions about supernatural entities, events, and processes. The devout believe in these doctrines and so forth, and their beliefs prompt them to actions, which they support or rationalize by reference to the doctrines. Dawkins and Dennett view the acceptance of the doctrines as resting on cognitive misfiring – as delusions to be outgrown or spells to be broken. By contrast, the religious scholars who criticize the militant atheists often view religion as centered in social practices that inform and enrich human lives. To the extent that there are doctrines that atheists might subject to epistemic evaluation, these are to be viewed as pieces of scaffolding: they are, in principle, dispensable. I argue that militant modern atheism is incomplete (and likely counterproductive) so long as it fails to attend systematically to the roles religion fulfills in human lives. Yet it is important to achieve public clarity about the literal falsehood of the doctrines on which fundamentalists rely. The challenge is to develop a well‐articulated and convincing version of secular humanism. Meeting that challenge is, I claim, one of the central problems of philosophy today.

The internet has considerably changed epistemic practices in science as well as in everyday life. Apparently, this technology allows more and more people to get access to a huge amount of information. Some people even claim that the internet leads to a democratization of knowledge. In the following text, we will analyze this statement. In particular, we will focus on a potential change in epistemic structure. Does the internet change our common epistemic practice to rely on expert opinions? Does it alter or even undermine the division of epistemic labor? The epistemological framework of our investigation is a naturalist-pragmatist approach to knowledge. We take it that the internet generates a new environment to which people seeking information must adapt. How can they, and how should they, expand their repertory of social markers to continue the venture of filtering, and so make use of the possibilities the internet apparently provides? To find answers to these questions we will take a closer look at two case studies. The first example is about the internet platform WikiLeaks that allows so-called whistle-blowers to anonymously distribute their information. The second case study is about the search engine Google and the problem of personalized searches. Both instances confront a knowledge-seeking individual with particular difficulties which are based on the apparent anonymity of the information distributor. Are there ways for the individual to cope with this problem and to make use of her social markers in this context nonetheless?

The concept of progress figures centrally in pragmatism in two apparently distinct ways. In the writings of Dewey, concepts of ethical and social progress play a major role: the task of philosophy is to promote progress across many domains of human inquiry and practice. Philosophers should foster progressive shifts with respect to the urgent problems of the age. Democracy is unfinished, and both Democracy and Education and The Public and its Problems are concerned with ways in which the progress of democracy could be promoted. Social progress would be made if art were no longer divorced from human life but integrated with it. Religious progress would be achieved by focusing on the...

I want to begin by thanking Judith Green for organizing this symposium, and all the contributors for their thoughtful attention to my work.Pragmatism is currently undergoing an apparent revival, with a number of philosophers not normally associated with the movement claiming to have joined the club: following the lead of Dick Rorty, Isaac Levi, and Hilary Putnam, Robert Brandom and Huw Price have also declared their pragmatist allegiance. I, too, have signed on. But, as Seth Joshua Thomas astutely notes in his essay, should those who have labored long and hard during times when the writings of Peirce, James, and Dewey were neglected (and often brusquely dismissed) take these self-ascriptions seriously? After all..

Philip Kitcher's book begins with a familiar historical overview. In the 1940s and 50s a confident, optimistic vision of science was widely shared by philosophers and historians of science. The goal of science was to discover the truth about nature, and over the centuries science had advanced steadily towards that goal; science discerned the real kinds of things of which the world was composed and the causal relations between them; the methods of science were rational and its deliverances objective; and so on. Only where science failed in some of these respects was there any need to provide external, that is social, political, or individual, explanations of scientific belief. In the late 50s, and especially subsequent to Kuhn's classic, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, all this started to change. Historians increasingly insisted that the development of science must be treated just like any other cultural process, which meant embedding the narrative of the growth of scientific knowledge fully in the social and political context in which it occurred. This suggested that the view of science as deriving from a uniquely rational process could no longer be sustained. And, notoriously, Kuhn argued that science could not be seen as cumulative across the most dramatic changes in scientific theory. Though philosophers have never given up entirely on the old optimistic picture ("Legend" as Kitcher refers to it), its influence has steadily waned. For various reasons philosophers have become increasingly concerned over whether one could believe scientific claims to be literally true. And influenced by Duhem's thesis, revived by Quine, that scientific theory must always be underdetermined by empirical evidence, they became more sympathetic to the possibility that scientific belief must be explained, at least in substantial part, by much more than the rational objective processes envisioned by Legend. These philosophical doubts existed in uneasy tension with more extreme tendencies toward thoroughgoing relativism or skepticism, and with the movement in the sociology of science to see the whole concern with truth and falsity as an irrelevant diversion.

The relationship between truth and politics has rarely seemed more vexed. Worries about misinformation and disinformation abound, and the value of expertise for democratic decision-making dismissed. Whom can we trust to provide us with reliable testimony? In Truth and Evidence, the latest in the NOMOS series, Melissa Schwartzberg and Philip Kitcher present nine timely essays shedding light on practices of inquiry. These essays address urgent questions including what it means to #BelieveWomen; what factual knowledge we require to confront challenges like COVID-19; and how white supremacy shapes the law of evidence.

When reading John Stuart Mill, it's easy to have a sense of "déja vu all over again." At first sight, his ideas seem completely familiar, well understood, and thoroughly absorbed in the way we live now. Do we need him to explain the advantages of free speech and open debate? Or to emphasize attending to the consequences of actions? To protect differences that don't harm others, and to plead for equality of opportunity? Even if he once counted as "dangerous" or "subversive", he can appear all too tame today. On John Stuart Mill aims to approach him differently - not by rehearsing his (considerable) contributions to contemporary attitudes, but by starting just where the ideas he has bequeathed to us seem most problematic. Our own political debates hardly approximate the conditions envisaged in the famous defense of free speech. If we read more closely - and more widely - it becomes evident that he was already aware of the problem, and that he struggled to reconcile the claims of democracy with the importance of expertise. Those struggles can help us as we wrestle with kindred difficulties. In this extended, and beautifully written, essay, Kitcher develops some of Mill's ideas in the context of contemporary ethical, social, and political issues and debates, and what he would have made of them. These debates--such as those around government mandated Covid-19 masks and vaccines, Second Amendment worship, income inequality, gay marriage, and climate change--involve questions of individual freedom, free speech, equality, and utilitarianism, all of which are central to Mill's project. In doing so, Kitcher draws primarily, though not exclusively, on the three works by Mill (sometimes in close collaboration with Harriet Taylor) that typically feature on the Contemporary Civilization syllabus: On Liberty, Utilitarianism, and The Subjection of Women. He also discusses Mill's Principles of Political Economy. By focusing on questions that are salient today, he hopes to capture the tone of exploratory conversations at which Contemporary Civilization aims.

What's the Use of Philosophy? aims to answer the question posed in its title, whether the questioner intends to dismiss philosophy, or seeks a positive answer. The first three chapters explore the grounds for dismissal. Chapter 1 expresses skepticism about the value of much professional Anglophone philosophy, while recognizing virtues in work often viewed as peripheral. Chapter 2 studies a philosophical subfield, the philosophy of science, arguing that, while its condition may be better than the norm, it is far from perfect. In Chapter 3, a more systematic critique is offered, in the form of a pathology report. Its diagnosis identifies six justifiable philosophical impulses that, when pursued obsessively, generate distortions and diseases: clarity becomes a fetish, formalism becomes obfuscation, "intuition" is given burdens it cannot bear, appeals to the a priori sprinkle fairy dust on controversial claims, ideas grabbed from other fields are used in cartoon forms, and questions no longer relevant are treated as if they were "timeless." Chapter 4 attempts to identify the legitimate goals of philosophy. It sees value in attempts to respond to questions arising from the difficulties of the age, in attempts to reform methods of inquiry, and, above all, in the construction of syntheses capable of helping people as they struggle to make sense of their lives. Philosophy is renewed when these traditional goals once again become central to its discussions. The final chapter responds to a frequently voiced worry in a letter to young philosophers who wonder how they can align their aspirations with the hyper-professionalism expected of them.