Steinar Bøyum

We often speak about religious experience, and sometimes we speak about metaphysical experience. Yet we seldom hear about philosophical experience. Is philosophy purely a matter of theories and theses, or does it have an experiential aspect? In this article, I argue for the following three claims. First, there is something we might call philosophical experience, and there is nothing mystical about it. Second, philosophical experiences are expressed in something quite similar to what Kant called “aesthetic judgements.” Third, philosophical experiences are expressed by using words in what Wittgenstein called “secondary sense.” Finally, I try to show the educational significance of pursing philosophical experiences. Through articulating them one might find one's ground, and through articulating them in a less private and more universal form one might raise oneself to universality. Thus, in expressing philosophical experiences one aspires to speak in a universal voice.

Inherited wealth will be of increasing importance in years to come. Yet inheritance taxation is unpopular, and part of this unpopularity is due to family concerns. Such taxation is seen by many as morally problematic because it is taken to violate important family values. In this article, we explore five family arguments against inheritance taxation: firstly, whether we have a right to benefit our children; secondly, whether it is a virtue to benefit one's children; thirdly, whether children have a right to their parent's belongings, due to common ownership; fourthly, whether inheritance taxation may impair a vital sense of continuity and belonging; and lastly, an argument from incentives that appeals specifically to the relation between parents and children. We conclude that none of the arguments provide strong objections against a moderate or even a high inheritance tax rate, at least not when special provisions are made for things like family houses or farms. However, since the arguments all introduce concerns that should be assigned some weight, it would be unjust to abolish inheritance entirely.

I argue that democratic citizens have a duty to educate themselves politically. My argument proceeds in two stages. First, I establish a case for the moral importance of individual competence for voting, but also maintain that the substantial content of the required competence must remain open. I do this by way of an assessment of Jason Brennan's provocative defense of epistocracy. I try to show that there is no notion of political competence that can meet with reasonable agreement among citizens and that voter qualification exams are therefore illegitimate. Second, I maintain that the basic premise of Brennan's argument, the right to a competent electorate, is valid and that it corresponds to an individual duty to educate oneself politically. This duty is, in Kant's terminology, a wide and imperfect duty that we owe to our fellow democratic citizens. Yet since the content of competence must be left open, this moral duty cannot be transformed into a legal obligation.

John Rawls is often seen as the archetypal abstract Theoretician within political philosophy. Some will also find his theory utopian and rationalist, in the negative sense. In this paper, though, the aim is to demonstrate that Rawls’ political philosophy is deeply practical. This is done by an interpretation of three different elements in his thought: Philosophical method, the original position, and publicity. The interpretations of Richard Rorty and Burton Dreben are criticized, whereas the thought of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Pierre Hadot, and Stanley Cavell are used to clarify Rawls’ project.

Strangely, the concept of philosophical education is not much in use, at least not as a philosophical concept. In this essay, Steinar Bøyum attempts to outline such a philosophical concept of philosophical education. Bøyum uses Plato's Allegory of the Cave, René Descartes's life of doubt, and Immanuel Kant's criticism of metaphysics as paradigms or defining examples of this concept. Bøyum's aim in this essay is not exegetical; rather, he hopes to describe these examples in a way that will let their character as conceptions of philosophical education show forth. His underlying aims are to show which forms such conceptions may take and why philosophical education is or should be an important topic for both philosophy and education.

In the present essay, I attempt to develop a distinction between moral and political theories of education, inspired by the work of Amy Gutmann. The main idea is that whereas a moral theory of education gives an account of an ideal (or at least good) education, a political theory gives an account of how to structure education in a democracy where there is deep disagreement on what constitutes an ideal (or good) education. Unfortunately, we sometimes speak as though our moral theories can be unproblematically translated into the political realm, but in doing so, we are either being outright undemocratic or we underestimate the significance of the world-view pluralism in modern, liberal democracies. In order for a political theory of education to be democratically acceptable, it must fulfill the criterion of being capable of democratic translation into a society characterized by deep pluralism.

We usually think of philosophy as the production of theories and arguments. Yet there are other sides to philosophy, the recognition of which is necessary to understand its wider personal and cultural significance. Some of these sides are seldom acknowledged as philosophical at all, perhaps because literature has appropriated what professional philosophy unfortunately has lost. One philosophical activity often overlooked is the construction of philosophical allegories: to describe one's life in explicit philosophical terms or philosophically suggestive ways. Reading life allegorically is to recognize philosophy in what seems merely details of the whole picture and to develop a sense for how philosophical constellations are mirrored in one's life, no matter how ordinary that life may seem. As a theoretical position skepticism is sometimes stated by saying that we are in a prison from which we cannot escape. What if one had actually been in some kind of prison, say, a home or a university, and then described that episode so that the skeptical picture is revealed in the description? That would be what I call an autobiographical philosophical allegory: a part of one's life is sublimated into a picture of the human condition. To attain as much, the episode need not be imbued with philosophical significance at the time—it may have felt utterly ordinary or utterly private. Yet the telling of it can make it extraordinary and promote it into a philosophical piece. In the following, I shall elucidate the concept of philosophical allegory through a reading of some episodes in Jean-Jacques Rousseau's autobiographical works.

Wittgenstein often refers to matters of learning, and there have been efforts to extract a social conception of learning from his writings. In the first half of this article, I look at three such efforts, those of Meredith Williams, Christopher Winch, and David Bakhurst, and I say why I think these efforts fail. As I go on to argue, though, there is a fairly trivial sense in which learning is a social rather than a psychological phenomenon: ordinarily, there are public criteria for whether someone has learned something. Yet, in the second half of the article, I point to an exception to this general rule. Taking a cue from Wittgenstein, I call this ‘intransitive learning’, as it refers to learning experiences where we cannot say what we have learned or where there simply isn't anything in particular that we have learned. This is a use that is not easily accommodated by received definitions of learning. It also represents a genuinely psychological use of the word ‘learn’. In contrast to ordinary cases of learning, claims about intransitive learning function like expressions and are marked by first-person authority

We often speak about religious experience, and sometimes we speak about metaphysical experience. Yet we seldom hear about philosophical experience. Is philosophy purely a matter of theories and theses, or does it have an experiential aspect? In this article, I argue for the following three claims. First, there is something we might call philosophical experience, and there is nothing mystical about it. Second, philosophical experiences are expressed in something quite similar to what Kant called "aesthetic judgements." Third, philosophical experiences are expressed by using words in what Wittgenstein called "secondary sense." Finally, I try to show the educational significance of pursing philosophical experiences. Through articulating them one might find one's ground, and through articulating them in a less private and more universal form one might raise oneself to universality. Thus, in expressing philosophical experiences one aspires to speak in a universal voice

Thomas Piketty's Capital in the Twenty-First Century is best known for its documentation of increasing social inequality, but it also has a notable normative aspect. Although Piketty is far less clear on the normative level than on the empirical, his view of justice can be summarised as meritocratic luck egalitarianism. This leads him to condemn as unjust the fact that inheritance is once again becoming more important than education for determining social position. In this paper, I discuss whether Piketty's normative conception can justify this condemnation. My main thesis will be that Piketty ends up in a dilemma that he cannot resolve with the normative resources he has at his disposal. The horns of this dilemma are defined by whether or not we accept what Susan Hurley calls ‘the regression requirement’, and in both cases the normative distinction between inheritance and education as ways to achieve social positions disappears. Toward the end, I shall suggest an alternative justification for the moral superiority of education over inheritance, which makes use of one of Piketty's key empirical arguments.