AYN RAND: THE RUSSIAN RADICAL
Chris Sciabarra
(University Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995)
Reviewed by Ronald E. Merrill (ronmerrill@bix.com)
Objectivist intellectuals, starting with Rand herself, have long had a gnawing hunger for recognition and respectability in the scholarly community. With the publication of Chris Sciabarra's Ayn Rand: the Russian Radical by Penn State Press, it looks like they will finally get their desire.
In all that has been written about Rand and Objectivism, what we have lacked until now is a monograph comprehensively analyzing Rand's thought from a scholarly perspective. Leonard Peikoff's Objectivism is an introductory textbook. My own book, The Ideas of Ayn Rand, takes a scientific rather than a scholarly intellectual approach (as I acknowledge in its preface). Now the long-awaited appearance of Sciabarra's book fills that gap, and fills it brilliantly.
The reader should be warned at once that this book is no light summer read to take to the beach. Picking a sentence at random, I find at the head of page 130: "Rand's approach to the ontological foundations of philosophy was minimalist." If you had to stop and think for a moment to figure out what that means, you'll find the text heavy going. Sciabarra assumes that his reader is proficient in the esoterica of philosophical terminology, and prepared to digest a heavy dose of Russian intellectual history. Stylistically, Sciabarra is the antithesis of Rand, who avoided academic jargon and always tried to relate even the most abstruse concepts to familiar practical issues.
As I read Ayn Rand: the Russian Radical, the word that came repeatedly to mind was "meticulous." Sciabarra has tackled his subject with extraordinary energy and thoroughness. He has searched out practically everything that has ever been written about Rand; the bibliography alone is worth the price of the book to a Rand scholar. Beyond that, he has conducted much primary research, especially on Rand's life in Russia and her education. Perhaps the most impressive passage of the book comes in the acknowledgments, which show that Sciabarra succeeded in getting cooperation from both Leonard Peikoff and David Kelley.
Sciabarra's thesis is that Ayn Rand can best be understood as being "anti-Dualist" (yet not "Monist") in the content and methodology of her thinking; and that indeed she took a "dialectical" approach. There is always danger in using this sort of "one size fits all" explanatory notion. One tends to stretch the meaning of the terminology so that awkward cases can be fit into the framework. I think Sciabarra falls into this difficulty in several places. Even so, his approach genuinely helps to clarify Rand's meaning, and leads to fruitful new insights.
I found the idea of anti-Dualism as a philosophical position not useful. Dualism, in this sense, seems to be something like dividing all phenomena into two separate or even opposing classes. It's not always clear what this really means. When we are told that the premise of anti-Dualism was common to Aristotle, Hegel, Marx, Lenin, and Rand--well, that practically establishes a prima facie case that the concept is unconstitutionally vague. And as Sciabarra pursues this part of his argument, we soon find ourselves sinking into a quicksand of ambiguity and nebulous distinctions.
Let me give an example. In introducing Rand's metaphysics in his "Basic Principles of Objectivism" lectures, Nathaniel Branden emphasized the importance of the distinction between "something" and "nothing": "Nothing is not just another kind of something; nothing is nothing." This could be interpreted as a Dualist assertion (something and nothing are opposites). Or, more subtly, as anti-Dualist or even Monist (nothing really "isn't"; everything is something). One could argue the issue all day, and arrive nowhere; and why would it matter, anyway?
Sciabarra is on to something much more productive when he discusses "anti-Dualism" in a second sense, as a methodology, not philosophical content. In this sense of the term, anti-Dualism means the tendency to reason or argue by means of rejecting false antitheses. This "dialectical" method of argumentation, says Sciabarra, can be traced back to the "thesis-antithesis-synthesis" sequence attributed to Hegel, and further to the "golden mean" sought by Aristotle. But this is not really anti-Dualist in the sense of rejecting antitheses. In fact, if we examine Rand's reasoning in detail, we find that almost always she ends up replacing the false antithesis with a new, corrected antithesis. Nonetheless, Sciabarra's insight is valuable because it stimulates us to analyze more closely the various lines of argument that Rand used.
Rand sometimes makes an argument of the form, "A and B are thought to be opposites; but actually A is just a type of B, and the true opposite to both is C." This argument is applied to criticize traditional egoism (of the Nietzschean or Stirnerian form) as merely a variant of altruism, notably in Toohey's speech in The Fountainhead.
At other times, Rand attacks the false antithesis by changing the boundary--rotating the frame of reference, so to speak: "A and B are thought to oppose C and D; but the true opposition is A and C against B and D." We see an example of this in Atlas Shrugged when Tom Colby tells Rearden: "They've been telling us for years that it's you against me, Mr. Rearden. But it isn't. It's Orren Boyle and Fred Kinnan against you and me."
The familiar Randian argument for the "objective" as an alternative to the "intrinsic" or "subjective" in epistemology again involves setting up a new antithesis. "A and B are not really opposites; because they both presume the same, false, premise, the true opposite to both is C."
Prompted by Sciabarra's observation, we can see Rand using this method of identifying and rejecting false antitheses over and over again in discussing the analytic-synthetic dichotomy, the nature of mysticism and materialism, and many other issues. It is instructive to go through her work and draw Venn diagrams to clarify the various arguments she applies.
In the end, though, it's not clear that attaching the label "anti-Dualist" or "dialectical" to Rand gives us a definitive characterization of her way of thinking. After all (as Sciabarra concedes), she was repeatedly accused of seeing issues in "black and white" terms; she not only admitted doing this, she gloried in it. Above all she opposed any attempt to construct "compromises" that blended elements of antithetical positions. Thus Rand says in Galt's speech that "There are two sides to every question: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil." One has to stretch a bit to call this quintessentially Randian statement "anti-Dualist." Does this label really show us how Rand was distinct from other thinkers? Sure, she attacked false antitheses--but what philosopher doesn't?
Structurally, Ayn Rand: the Russian Radical is divided into three parts.
In the first, Sciabbara traces the roots of Rand's thinking in the intellectual milieu of the Russian "Silver Age" into which she was born. In his detailed analysis, he finds the source of Rand's anti-Dualism in the Russian absorbtion with Hegel and Nietzsche. He particularly emphasizes the influence of N. O. Lossky, who (apparently) taught philosophy to Rand, and to whom Sciabarra devotes a whole chapter.
A great many interesting parallels are identified in this section, and it certainly gives us a new and valuable perspective on the intellectual context in which Rand developed her ideas. I am, however, sceptical of the power of this approach for causal explanation. Like repression theory in psychology, it "explains" anything, and therefore nothing. If Rand was anti-Dualist, it's because she absorbed this from her anti-Dualist teachers. But if she was a radical individualist, it's because she was "reacting against" the commitment to sobornost' (communal organicism) held by her teachers. The process of intellectual development is, I would argue, far more complex than the conventional routine of scholarly appraisal can effectively comprehend.
In the second section of the book, Sciabarra conducts a top-down analysis of Objectivism, from metaphysics to politics. Deep discussions of psychological and esthetic implications are included here also.
Sciabbara begins this section by citing Lossky's ambition to see philosophy become a true science, which would no longer contain competing "schools of thought." As I have previously argued, Rand saw her task in just these terms. How ironic--and depressing--then, to find Sciabarra dividing Rand's followers into "orthodox Objectivists" (eg, Peikoff) and "neo-Objectivists" (eg, Kelley). One might therefore conclude that Rand died a failure in a very important sense. And yet, these two "schools" really differ on only three issues. First, there is the well-known but ultimately political dispute over "tolerance" and "open" vs. "closed" views of Objectivism. Second, there is the rather artificial distinction between ethical "flourishers" (orthodox) and "survivalists" (neo). Third, there is anarcho-libertarianism; orthos are firmly against it, neos more receptive to it. Despite these splits on peripheral issues, Objectivists seem still united on basic principles, so we may hope that philosophy will yet become a real science.
To cover this extensive and detailed analysis of Rand's philosophy in a brief review would be impossible. I can only compliment Sciabarra on his thorough analysis, which perceptively relates seemingly disparate aspects of Objectivism. I was particularly interested in the way in which he integrates the psychological theories of Nathaniel Branden (both "Objectivist psychology" and the later "biocentric" approach) into the fabric. These psychological topics, and even Rand's esthetics, are taken by Sciabarra to be prior to her metaethics and ethics, which is certainly a novel approach. While I cannot agree with all of his positions, I found his fresh perspectives on the issues provocative.
Sciabarra devotes the third section of his book to discussing Rand's work on social and political issues, emphasizing the problems of implementing her vision. I found this to be the weakest part of the text.
In his introduction, Sciabarra tells us that "dialectics grasps that any system emerges over time." Unfortunately, his treatment of Rand's thought, especially in the last part of the book, mostly lacks this "diachronic" perspective. Just as the Rand of We the Living wrote from a dramatically different standpoint from the author of The Fountainhead; so the Rand of the Fifties was not quite the same thinker as the Rand of the Sixties, let alone the Seventies. When Sciabarra writes of Rand's moralizing, her hostility to emotion, her views on conservatism, and many other subjects, he relies heavily on texts from her later, even declining years. In view of her physical and emotional condition in this period, generalizations based on her essays in the post-NBI period should be made with great caution. One might as well judge Jane Austen on the basis of Sanditon. That's not to say that these contributions should be ignored; Rand, even when mortally ill, could think better than the average intellectual in the pink of health. But late Rand is not typical Rand, and far less is it "mature" Rand.
Objectivists often like to cite the Spanish proverb, "Take what you want, says God--and pay for it." Let us assume that Sciabarra will achieve academic respectability for Rand's ideas. What, we may legitimately ask, will be the price? I can see three drawbacks to this project.
First, is membership in the scholarly clique really worthwhile? There is something anachronistic about the longing of Objectivist intellectuals for academic recognition--which, during the last 50 years, has increasingly become a badge less of honor than of shame. Today more than ever, what passes for "scholarship" consists mainly of the painstaking classification of intellectual coprolites. Now, if Sciabarra's book achieves the breakthrough he seeks, Rand will finally be given space in the display case on equal terms with Derrida, Heidegger, and MacKinnon. My. What a privilege.
Second, the emphasis on scholarship may easily divert attention from more substantive work. The scholar's task is to understand exactly what Rand said; why she said it; how she developed her ideas; and who influenced her thinking. That job is important and worthwhile. But far more crucial is the scientific approach to her philosophy: What can we learn fron Rand? What productive areas for new inquiry did she open up? How can we build a higher conceptual structure on the foundation she erected? Rand's academic opponents, if they are shrewd, would like nothing better than to see her reduced to an object of study--just another dead thinker to be analyzed and discussed. Who is to carry forward the real enterprise of Objectivism? Whoever it is will not get--and, I suspect, will not desire--the plaudits of the scholarly community.
Third and most important, in appeasing the political prejudices of the dominant Left intelligentsia, it is easy to distort the content of Objectivism. Sciabarra's discussion repeatedly emphasizes how Rand's ideas relate to those of Hegel and Marx. Indeed, the book might well be subtitled, "Objectivism for Marxists." This is certainly the best way to make Rand's philosophy accessible to the academic community: explain it in their language. And like the Japanese custom of bending over and looking at a mountain upside down between one's legs, it does give a new perspective; but one looks a little peculiar doing it. Moreover, in reframing the ideas there is inevitably the danger of debasing them. For it is hard to get into the academic church without bowing to the gods of political correctness.
In several "hot-button" areas, Sciabarra appears to genuflect to current dogma. He recoils from Rand's moral "intolerance," and her "insensitivity" to the plight of the poor and handicapped; he calls for a "kinder, gentler Objectivism." This simply does not do justice to Rand's thinking on this subject. Sciabbara concedes, and condemns, Rand's "homophobia" and her inadequate commitment to feminism. But, he assures us, these merely reflect Rand's personal character deficiencies, and are not integral to her thought.
Well, embarrassing though it may be, that simply is not the case. Objectivism is a philosophy that depends heavily on the input of scientific knowledge. Rand understood that if philosophy is to become a science, it must be integrated with the scientific endeavor. Thus Objectivism, especially in its ethical reasoning, starts from specific facts about human nature. As currently formulated, Objectivist ethics derives from views that were dominant in biology and psychology in the Thirties and Forties, when Rand was developing her ideas. Unfortunately these obsolete theories contained internal contradictions, which became reflected as inconsistencies in Rand's ideas on such topics as feminism and homosexuality. One of the most important tasks facing philosophers is the revision of the Objectivist ethics to take into account new scientific knowledge. To dismiss Rand's errors in this area as mere personal idiosyncracies impedes our recognition of an important problem.
Ayn Rand: the Russian Radical is a first-rate piece of work. This is the book that has been needed for a long time. Sciabarra's exhaustive analysis of Rand's thought, and the new perspectives that can be discovered from his fresh viewpoint, will help encourage the renewal of Objectivism. I do worry about the response from the book's intended academic audience; for I fear that a positive reaction may almost be more dangerous than a negative. But in the end I remember a passage from The Fountainhead:
"The A.G.A. Bulletin refers to you as a great but unruly talent--and the Museum of the Future has hung up photographs of Monadnock, the Enright House, the Cord Building and the Aquitania, under beautiful glass--next to the room where they've got Gordon L. Prescott. And still--I'm glad."
Ronald E. Merrill is author of *The Ideas of Ayn Rand* (Open Court, 1991), and co-author of *The New Venture Handbook* (AMACOM, 1993) and *Raising Money* (AMACOM, 1990). His recent publications on Objectivism include "Axioms: the Eightfold Way," *Objectivity* 2(2), 1
(1995). Dr. Merrill can be reached by email as
ronmerrill@bix.com.
****
I welcome the opportunity to continue debating some of the issues raised by Chris Sciabarra. This discussion is both difficult and productive because we are addressing the issues from opposite sides of the chasm between scientific and scholarly ways of thinking--the "Two Cultures" identified by C. P. Snow.
Let me begin with the issue of "anti-Dualism" and "dialectics." The problem with these vague, blanket terms is brought out nicely when Chris says, "[dialectics] is in its essence . . . a method of analysis which preserves the analytical integrity of the whole." This is definition by bromide. The woods are not exactly full of philosophers who state their intention to think in ways that will destroy the analytical integrity of the whole. Pretty much everyone is looking for ways to understand reality that will allow us to comprehend not only the parts but the whole. So by Chris's terminology, every sensible thinker is a "dialectician." The disagreement, though, is not over this objective but over how to achieve it; and putting labels on thinkers, like colored name tags at a convention, doesn't make any real contribution to settling this issue.
Whether we are talking content or methodology, if terms like "anti-Dualist" are to become useful, they must be defined solidly enough that they cannot be stretched to cover any contingency. The first challenge for Chris is to develop some much more explicit and tight definitions of his terms. Right now, it seems that they can always be interpreted, with sufficient ingenuity, to support the position that every correct line of thought is by definition "anti-Dualist" or "dialectical." And I go on with a second challenge: if "anti-Dualism" is not correct by definition, what is the philosophical justification that it *is* inherently correct, either as content or as method? Scientists, for instance, believe in important generalizations that could be reasonably classified in different catagories. We believe that every existent is composed of matter--presumably a "Monist" proposition. We believe that characterizing matter as "mass" or "energy" merely reflects two aspects of the same substance--an "anti-Dualist" way of looking at things, no doubt. We believe that all particles are either bosons or fermions--a proposition that is hard to characterize as other than "Dualist." And so on. Now, unless Chris wishes to challenge the correctness of these and many, many other solidly established scientific generalizations, he must do one of two things: (1) Concede that "Monist" or "Dualist" propositions can, as much as "anti-Dualist" ones, be true in reality; or (2) Show that all these apparently different types of true propositions *actually* are "anti-Dualist" by some sort of objective definition.
Now, I anticipate the response that these terms really ought to be concerned, not with types of propositions, but with methods of analysis or reasoning. Again, though, scientists utilize different modes of analysis as appropriate, shifting back and forth among them without difficulty. Let me cite some more examples.
One of the most productive ways to view biology (not the only way) is through a "Monist" model. We start from the proposition that all types of living entities reproduce. We then apply a "Monist" approach to analysis when we ask how the incredible diversity of structural and behavioral features we find in living creatures can be explained by this common factor. This is clearly a "Monist" analytical method: "All members of the class of interest have property X; we will learn about them by seeing how their varied characteristics flow out of this unity."
Probably the best known field for application of the "anti-Dualist" methodology is quantum mechanics. Here we find that the "wave" and "particle" nature of basic entities must be viewed as contrasting aspects or manifestations of a single reality. The "anti-Dualist" approach, then, may be expressed as: "All members of the class of interest have the ability to express both X and Y characteristics, where X and Y are distinct or even antithetical; we will see how this apparent contradiction can be resolved by considering X and Y as two manifestations of the same characteristic."
However, we sometimes utilize clearly "Dualist" reasoning. For instance, all [non-pathological] differential equations are either linear or non-linear. Which of these two mutually exclusive groups a particular equation belongs to will tell us a great deal about what sorts of solutions are possible, and how the physical systems it models will behave. Here we operate on the "Dualist" premise: "All members of the class of interest have either characteristic X or characteristic Y (but never both). We will examine how this factor affects other aspects of their behavior."
I go into this subject at such length in order to illustrate that terms of this sort can be given specific meanings if we choose; we don't have to rely on vague hand-waving about critiquing and transcending conditions. And if we want to do anything useful with the terminology, this kind of explicit distinction is what we must establish. In particular, we need to understand where Rand utilized these various methods of reasoning in her work--for she did. We may accept that she gave more emphasis to "anti-Dualist" methodology than the average intellectual of her time. But to describe her as "an anti-Dualist" is too simplistic; unlike Marx, Rand was not a formulaic thinker.
Another major point I want to address in commenting on Chris Sciabarra's response is Rand's politically incorrect attitude on certain "gender" matters. [Incidentally, the use of "gender" as meaning sexual identity, while widespread, is incorrect--indeed, this usage constitutes an anti-concept. Strictly speaking, gender refers only to a purely linguistic distinction: A waitress is of the female sex; the word "waitress" is of the feminine gender.]
To begin with, Objectivism (as Tibor Machan and others have pointed out) is both rationalist and empiricist. It is *not* a philosophy that is derived *a priori* from first principles without empirical (ie, scientific) input. In particular, Rand is very explicit that her ethical principles are derived from specific facts about human nature. Some of these are "common sense" observations; but others can be validated only by a complex procedure of scientific reasoning.
In particular, Rand asserts (she is quite explicit--see, for instance, "The Comprachicos") that human beings are born *tabula rasa* and that their premises and methods of thinking are essentially determined by their culture and upbringing as of a very early age. (She allows for a role for volition in a few rare, heroically independent children.) Now, this is not a universally accepted commonplace. It is a specific scientific (or more precisely, pseudoscientific or prescientific) theory which was accepted at a certain time in history--roughly from the Thirties through the Fifties--and which has since proved inadequate. Rand picked up this theory, which was "in the air" during the period when she was developing her system, and incorporated it in her ethical reasoning.
Some historical context is necessary here. (A good elementary text on the relevant intellectual history is Carl Degler's *In Search of Human Nature*--Oxford Univ. Press, 1991. I can also recommend Peter J. Bowler, *Evolution: The History of an Idea*--Univ. Cal. Press, 1989.) Darwin's theory of evolution created a major upheaval in people's view of human nature and seemed likely to lead to repugnant moral and political conclu-sions such as "Social Darwinism." Around the early Thirties, the nascent "social sciences" began to crystallize a response to Darwin. While more or less conceding that evolution by natural selection did take place among lower species, they asserted that this did not apply to human behavior. Taking the extreme "nurture" position in the famous "nature vs. nurture" debate, they argued that human behavior has no genetic component; we are totally determined by our upbringing and by social conditioning.
This theory had certain implications:
1. An anti-family attitude. Since so many people are socially or psychologically dysfunctional, and since human nature is determined totally by the early environment of the child, the family must be at fault. Children should be raised in public creches or Skinner boxes, perhaps.
2. "Homophobia." The old view that homosexuality was a volitional, and thus sinful, choice, was abandoned. Instead, the homosexual was seen as a particular type of neurotic whose sexual desires grew out of early emotional traumas. However, he had a moral obligation to attempt to fight his neurotic urges and get "cured" if possible.
3. Feminism. If biology is irrelevant, male-female differences must be just cultural artifacts, and men and women ought by right to play essentially identical roles in society.
Ayn Rand rejected some of the more obvious irrationalities implied by this theory, such as Behaviorism. Nonetheless, she accepted the basic premises that lay at their foundation. So the Randian attitudes that Chris cites--such as her disgust with "neurotic" homosexuals--were not simply personal prejudices; they had deep roots in her system of thought.
Today, the cobwebs of superstition are gradually being cleared away from the "social sciences." The simplistic "nature vs. nurture" dichotomy is no longer taken seriously by real scientists, though it hangs on among academic Marxists. In the modern view, human development follows a biologically scheduled program which can be completed only with timely inputs of environmental factors at specific points in the process. An important task for Objectivists is to follow out the implications of this corrected view for our ethical reasoning.
From: "Chris M. Sciabarra" <sciabrrc@is2.NYU.EDU>
Date: Sat, 18 Nov 1995 17:42:40 -0500 (EST)
To: Ron Merrill <ronmerrill@bix.com>
Subject: nice interview
I just wanted to drop you this note, Ron, to tell you how much I enjoyed your FULL CONTEXT interview, and also, to thank you for your kind words with regard to my book. I know you have your reservations, but it is still nice to see your praise.
Anyway, hope you are well, and please keep in touch.
Take care!
- Chris
==================================================
Dr. Chris M. Sciabarra, Visiting Scholar, NYU Department of Politics INTERNET: sciabrrc@is2.nyu.edu
http://pages.nyu.edu/~sciabrrc
==================================================
read/action:reply
To: "Chris M. Sciabarra" <sciabrrc@is2.NYU.EDU>
Enter text. End with '.<CR>'
> Thanks for your compliments on my interview.
>
> As for *AR:RR*, don't speak too soon! I have another post in to >MDOP on the issues--hope it will appear soon, if not, I'll send you a >copy by email. Still very much in opposition on key points, I'm afraid; >however, now that the review in *IOS Journal* has appeared, I suppose my >position will look moderate by contrast.
>> In any case, permit me to say that the way you have handled yourself i>n this debate is a sterling example to our younger colleagues. It is good >to see a debate on Objectivism conducted in a rational and temperate manner, >even though the participants are in vigorous, not to say virulent, >disagreement on the questions at hand.
>> Best Wishes,
>> Ron Merrill
DIALECTIC OR ECLECTIC?
The original issue which started this discussion is worth recalling: Was Ayn Rand a "dialectical" thinker? This of course depends on what one means by "dialectic"; and Chris's definition is such that one must say that Rand *was* a dialectical thinker. However, this now carries very little information content; for by his definition, essentially every one, whether intentionally or not, is a dialectical thinker.
The fuzziness of the modern usage of "dialectic" is precisely what I object to. Roger cites Mortimer Adler's excellent overview of the way in which this term has evolved historically, and quotes: "The thread of common meaning which runs through these four conceptions of dialectic [viz., those of Plato, Aristotle, Kant, and Hegel] is to be found in the principle of opposition. In each of them dialectic either begins or ends with some sort of intellectual conflict, or develops and then resolves such oppositions." This is true enough--and about as useful and informative as saying: "Boxing [what Mike Tyson does] and boxing [putting items into boxes] have a common meaning in that each of them describes an activity which humans perform with their hands."
Aristotle describes pretty clearly what he means by "dialectic"; what Hegel means by this term is not so pellucid, but it certainly is *radically* different from what Aristotle means by it. Any definition which is inclusive of both meanings (not to mention those of Plato, Kant, and Marx--who professed to stand Hegel's meaning "on its head"!) must be, like Adler's, so broad as to be useless. Any method of thinking that involves "some sort of intellectual conflict" at the beginning, middle, or end will qualify; in fact, it is hard to imagine any thinking process that would *not* qualify.
I would be happy, on the other hand, to accept Aristotle's version of "dialectic." He considered it a process of finding the most plausible answer to a problem for which only opinions or probabilities were available for consideration. This was to be done through careful analysis of the ideas involved (more or less what Ayn Rand called "chewing" a concept or argument) by means of clarifying distinctions. He distinguished dialectic, however, from the method by which actual truth and certainty could be discovered.
It is interesting to note that this distinction foreshadows that which C. P. Snow made in *The Two Cultures*, that between the "scholarly" and "scientific" cultures, which I have repeatedly emphasized.
The "scholarly" culture is committed to dialectic--more or less in the Aristotelean sense of the word--but adopting it not just as a methodology, but as a paradigm or world-view. In this culture, certainty is simply not an option; there are only conflicting opinions, and one can only argue to discover which opinion ("school of thought") is best supported at the present state of the debate. One need not be a skeptic (though this culture is very congenial to skeptics); one may believe that an underlying truth exists, as long as one accepts that it is not possible ever to decisively and permanently establish the truth.
For the "scientific" culture, dialectic is merely a stage to be (dare I say it?) transcended. It is a methodology appropriate to an early phase of investigation, when one is floundering about in the dark trying to organize the basic concepts of a field of study. But the objective is to reach the more reliable mode of reasoning, which we now call "scientific method," and begin establishing actual truth.
When the discussion turns to the merits of "dualism," "monism," "anti-dualism," "methodological holism," and such, this distinction between the "two cultures" becomes very illuminating. I should like to point out that these concepts are by no means foreign to scientists; on the contrary, they are the ABC of scientific epistemology. (Of course, terminology is often quite different; thus a scientist might refer to "loosely coupled" or "closely coupled" systems instead of talking about "external" and "internal" relationships.) But a working scientist, I think, would be quite puzzled by the idea of selecting one of these methodologies as being superior to another, let alone the only valid way of reasoning. For science, each of these methodologies is another tool to be used for the specific problems for which it is appropriate. One would no more argue over whether "atomism" or "holism" is the valid approach, than one would over whether all problems in arithmetic should be solved by multiplication as opposed to subtraction.
Chris rejects scientific examples, so let me illustrate this point with a humanities subject--history, say. If we are studying English history, we cannot well understand it separately from French history. The interaction between them is very close--in philosophical jargon, they are "internally" related. On the other hand, if we are studying Japanese history, we can understand it quite well without knowing anything to speak of about English history. Though English events did sometimes affect Japan, their influence was minor and peripheral, and we can treat these two phenomena as being "externally" related. (Indeed, at least up to the end of the Tokugawa era, we can treat Japan as being externally related even to Korea and China.) Thus "methodological holism" would be mandatory for dealing with English history, but quite inappropriate for Japanese history, where an "atomistic" model would be much more effective.
Now, of course one can always find a conceptual level or context in which there is a unit that requires a holistic approach. The history of Shikoku, for instance, cannot be conceptually isolated from that of the rest of Japan. But of course one can also always find a conceptual level that requires an atomistic approach. There is no inherent superiority to either methodology. Any competent thinker should be proficient in both, and use each when appropriate.
And, to return to the original subject, this is exactly what Rand does. She uses dialectic often, and scientific reasoning at other times. She is by turns a dualist, an anti-dualist, a monist, depending on the problem she is attacking. She emphasizes holism when that is the appropriate approach, and she embraces atomistic models when they fit. For, though Rand knew very little of the sciences, she was not a prisoner of the scholarly culture.
As Snow (and, eloquently, Asimov) pointed out, scientists generally have a good working knowledge of the humanities; and when they don't, they are ashamed of it. Scholars, on the other hand, usually have an appalling ignorance of science, which bothers them not at all; indeed, they often show a certain pride in it. This is a serious handicap, especially now that so much important philosophical work is coming out of the sciences. (One might mention the insights of Penrose, a mathematician, on the mind-body problem; Hawking and other physicists on causality; Tversky, Kahneman, and Gigerenzer on epistemology. Even theology has been revitalized by physicists such as Brandon Carter!)
Ayn Rand was commendably free of this scholarly snobbery. In fact, Chris gives a quotation showing her contempt for it in *AR:RR* (see note 13, p. 386). She respected science and tried to incorporate scientific methods and insights into her thinking. She (dare I say it?) transcended the scholarly culture, and it is precisely by doing so that she achieved her creative triumph. Thus seeing Ayn Rand as a "dialectical" thinker limits one's perspective of her and reduces her to less than she really was.
Ron Merrill
ronmerrill@bix.com
---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Mon, 20 Nov 1995 12:00:32 -0800
From: vincent.cook@ucop.edu
To: ayn-rand@IUBVM.UCS.INDIANA.EDU
Subject: Re: Dialectic or Eclectic?
--------------Ron Merrill writes:
> It is interesting to note that this distinction foreshadows >that which C. P. Snow made in *The Two Cultures*, that between the >"scholarly" and "scientific" cultures, which I have repeatedly emphasized. >
The "scholarly" culture is committed to dialectic--more or less >in the Aristotelean sense of the word--but adopting it not just as a >methodology, but as a paradigm or world-view. In this culture, >certainty is simply not an option; there are only conflicting opinions, >and one can only argue to discover which opinion ("school of thought") >is best supported at the present state of the debate. One need not be a >skeptic (though this culture is very congenial to skeptics); one may >believe that an underlying truth exists, as long as one accepts that >it is not possible ever to decisively and permanently establish the truth. > For the "scientific" culture, dialectic is merely a stage to be >(dare I say it?) transcended. It is a methodology appropriate to an early >phase of investigation, when one is floundering about in the dark trying to >organize the basic concepts of a field of study. But the objective is to >reach the more reliable mode of reasoning, which we now call "scientific >method," and begin establishing actual truth.
The "scholarly" culture seems to come out the worse in this depiction of the two cultures, as experimentalism supposedly offers us the only path to certainty. But is this actually the case? Is there some experiment, for example, that can justify the experimental method? Objectivism denies positivism, and instead affirms that there are axioms at the base of the hierarchy of knowledge. An axiom, once stated, gives evidence of its own truth; one need not resort to verification or falsification of an axiom by reference to subsequent facts. Axioms are therefore beyond the need for any controlled experimentation. Indeed, experiments themselves are meaningless without axioms. Axioms possess a fundamentality about them that makes them indispensible to the justification of all knowledge and to the understanding of human action. The existence of an axiomatic mode of induction clearly shows that there is a need for scholars, even if the bunch that currently infest academia don't quite measure up to our philosophical standards. Of course, there are more than a few natural scientists who don't conform to sound canons of epistemology either, so perhaps a general all-around philosophical housecleaning is in order.
Ron is correct to complain that the term "dialectic" has been used in a rather fuzzy way and that someone interested in the truth ought to use whatever methods and level of analysis that is appropriate to the problem at hand. But we should keep in mind the distinction between induction and explanation. Science is interested in discovering the causal laws that govern the universe, while history is interested in explaining specific past events in terms of the laws that science has discovered. In the case of natural history, paleontology, cosmology, etc., one primarily uses theories derived from the experimental sciences. Nobody claims that the uncontrolled events studied by the natural historian are a substitute for the controlled experiments of physics, chemistry, biology, etc. in formulating theory. In the relationship between the natural sciences and natural history, the sciences play the more fundamental role.
In the study of human history, similar principles apply. To take Ron's Tokugawa example, historians approach the Japanese historical record with a prior understanding of the meaning of various ideas prevalent in Japanese culture and with prior knowledge of the universal political and economic laws that govern all social interactions. Without such theory, historians couldn't begin to make sense out of the vast sea of historical records they are confronted with, so ultimately we can't get away from the problem of analyzing what method of induction is appropriate for political and economic science by appealing to history. All sound historical arguments must be based on sound political and economic theory. Again, the theoretical disciplines trump the historical ones.
The critical difference between the social sciences and the natural sciences is that the social sciences are founded on axiomatic induction, not on experimentalism. It is possible, of course, to perform experiments on an individual or any aggregate of individuals, but such experiments don't tell us what we need to know in order to explain the history of the Tokugawa shogunate. Only the arm-chair theorizing of the "scholarly" culture can offer any worthwhile assistance to the historians regarding the laws of human behavior applicable to the analysis of the historical record. What we should keep in mind here is that there is a sharp dualism between axiomatic induction and experimental induction, and there is an equally clear distinction among the subject matter appropriate to each. There is no more justification for an experimental "sociology" than there is for an axiomatic physics.
To classify one's model of Japanese social development as holistic or atomistic depending on whether or not Japan was isolated misses the point I was making in my earlier discussions of methodology. The axiomatic and individualistic methodology characteristic of a proper social theory is not a matter of particular historical circumstance, but is necessitated rather by the fact that the subject matter of history and the social sciences is always and everywhere the actions of mankind. It is the nature of man that dictates the particular methods that social scientists must use.
Vincent Cook
vincent.cook@ucop.edu
From: d.ust@genie.com
Date: Wed, 22 Nov 1995 12:31:00 +0000 (UTC)
To: ronmerrill@bix.com
Subject: On your review
DIALECTICAL OBJECTIVISM: AN ANSWER TO DR. RONALD E. MERRILL
by Daniel Ust
(I dispense with titles in the following merely to save on my fingers -- not out of disrespect for Doctors Merrill and Sciabarra.)
Though it may be the intention of _Ayn Rand: The Russian
Radical_'s author, Dr. Chris Sciabarra, to gain "recognition and respectability in the scholarly community," Merrill
should live up to his own rhetoric and judge the book on
whether it identifies Ayn Rand's debt to Russian philosophy AND also shows how Objectivism to be essentially
dialectical. Whether the book will affect academy is of
secondary importance. (The truth is, the number of
Objectivists and Objectivist professors, is and has been
growing. Thus, I believe the "recognition and
respectability in the scholarly community" will come
regardless of Sciabarra's book.)
I agree _Ayn Rand: The Russian Radical_ is not light
reading. This is a minor attack. Is every philosophy book supposed to be written at the eighth grade level? But
truly, the book is not obscure, nor is the jargon as
plentiful as Merrill would have us believe. The quote that Merrill uses to illustrate his point -- "Rand's approach to the ontological foundations of philosophy was minimalist." (p130) -- comes after Sciabarra defines what he means by
ontology. (By the way, the word "ontology" can be found in most dictionaries!) Sciabarra does not try to belittle his readers or speak in code words to the knowing few. Instead, he's fairly good at describing what he means. He then goes on to use the jargon repeatedly. This may lead to a problem to those who skim the book and aren't familiar with what the jargon means. (How many times have Objectivists such as
myself criticized people for taking Rand out of context?)
Also, if any Objectivist armchair philosophers -- people
whose experience of philosophy is limited to Rand and her
followers -- are NOT "proficient in... philosophical
terminology" they should be. If Objectivists are to be
taken seriously they must not only know what they are
dishing out, but have some ability to understand other
philosophers. I'm not maintaining this as an absolute
virtue. Obviously, not everyone can be or wants to be or
should be a philosopher, but it's a sad commentary on the
Objectivist movement -- a movement that allegedly holds
individual judgement in high esteem -- when most of the
people involved do not know the ideas they are against, or even take the time to analyze things outside their
worldview.
While I disagree with Merrill's simplistic characterization of Sciabarra's application of "dialectical," the latter does seem to go overboard -- using dialectics to explain almost all of Objectivism. However, Sciabarra's contention is that Objectivism is essentially dialectical. If this is so,
dialectics should underlie all aspects of the philosophy.
Even if Sciabarra only concentrated on the anti-dualist bent of Objectivism, he would have been identifying an important strand in Objectivism. While Rand even casually admitted
this, an extended study would still be beneficial. It would be another way of showing how Objectivism works. This would then make its insights more easily applicable and its limits more appreciated.
Anti-dualism, in fact, is something covered in mainstream
Objectivism. Leonard Peikoff, in the close of _Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand_, sees the history of philosophy as a duel between Plato and Aristotle. He criticizes the
former for separating body and mind, the archetypal dualism present in Western philosophy. However, it is only by going beyond this and looking dialectically at this history that we see mind/body and related dualism not as mere splits, but as creating tensions. These tensions act to create further distortions as well as to constantly open new possibilities for opposition. In other words, because reality is whole, those who deny one part while reifying another build the
very ground for their opponents. Idealism helps materialism -- in the same way the ex-Catholics made the best
Protestants! (And who make the the most strident Dry's but ex-alcoholics!)
In order to escape the trap of dualism, a dialectical
understanding, as Rand seems to have had, is necessary. Her method was to question the framework within which the
oppositions exist. Much of her philosophy is really, in
terms of the conventions she grew up around, an attempt to transcend the fragmentation and the arbitrary "package-
dealing" all around her -- in both Russia and America.
To equate "anti-dualism" and "dialectics" is a profound
mistake, I believe, because dualism is usually arbitrary.
Anti-dualism, like counterfeit individualism, can be just as arbitrary as the dualism it purports to overcome. In this respect, Merrill oversimplifies.
As for the dialectical thread running through "Aristotle,
Hegel, Marx, Lenin, and Rand," one should not assume that
using dialectical method makes one identical to all other
dialecticians. I believe Sciabarra should have gone into
more detail on this matter. He should provided a longer
catalog of dialectics and dialecticians. This, I admit, is a problem with the book.
However, in light of Merrill's criticism, I ask does the
fact that d'Holbach, Hume, Feuerbach, Marx, Lenin, and Rand are all atheists make the concept of atheism
"unconstitutionally vague"?
Also, look at the following paragraph from Merrill's review:
"Sciabarra is on to something much more productive when he discusses "anti-Dualism" in a second sense, as a
methodology, not philosophical content. In this sense of
the term, anti-Dualism means the tendency to reason or argue by means of rejecting false antitheses. This "dialectical" method of argumentation, says Sciabarra, can be traced back to the "thesis-antithesis-synthesis" sequence attributed to Hegel, and further to the "golden mean" sought by Aristotle. But this is not really anti-Dualist in the sense of
rejecting antitheses. In fact, if we examine Rand's
reasoning in detail, we find that almost always she ends up replacing the false antithesis with a new, corrected
antithesis. Nonetheless, Sciabarra's insight is valuable
because it stimulates us to analyze more closely the various lines of argument that Rand used."
The true synthesis at the end of the triad is not supposed to be merely the opposite of the antithesis in the middle. If it were, we would be back with the thesis. A true
synthesis would have to be something that identified the
original thesis and antithesis as parts of a larger whole. By identifying this larger whole, the synthesis has
transcended the narrow confines of the original dualism
(i.e., the range fenced in by the thesis and antithesis).
By identifying that some opposing views -- e.g., the
Christian view of splitting sex and love -- are really
restrictive, Rand was able to identify the package as well as offer a solution -- e.g., the unity of sex and love in a romantic relationship -- that could not provided within the old dualism. Whether Rand does this to point out the false dichotomy or to offer an alternative as yet unpresented
within the dichotomy, she seems to be using a dialectical
process. The solution often is not merely something outside of the false dichotomy, but something which combines the
fractured parts of the dichotomy. To stick with the same
example, Rand's view of romantic relationships is not one of rejecting both love and sex, but of combining them.
There is also a problem with seeing dialectics as
compromising. Dialectics as used here cannot be a
compromise. A compromise would be an admission that the
problem offered by a given dualism is insoluble at the
current time. Dialectics offers a solution not by
mindlessly mixing one side with the other, but by taking
what is true and valid in either side and integrating them. The Objectivist theory of perception is not a blend of naive realism a la Aristotle and subjectivist idealism a la
Berkeley. It is a theory which admits both the existence of external objects and the relativity of the senses. It
ignores the diaphanous model accepted by previous realists and idealists. Even in dialectics, old unities can be over-
Merrill brings up a good point about influences. It is hard to see how someone can absorb something and reject other
things, given some sort of cultural determinism. However, Sciabarra does not deny free will and he does not support
cultural determinism. The point is that if Rand was a
certain type of thinker, then she had to get her method from somewhere. Partly, she made innovations, but, one must
admit, partly, she took what was present around her when she was growing up. This is not to surrender to some form of
determinism but to show that even volition has limits.
However, to truly demonstrate that Rand got her method from Russian philosophy, one would need more access to her
notebooks. Even then, it's not likely Rand wrote something like "Gee, that Lossky, I think I'll take his methods and
throw out the mystical claptrap..." The case will remain, most likely, like much of the historical scholarship,
tentative. (I also confess that I'm not an expert on
Russian philosophy. I found Sciabarra's sections
on it interesting, if a little too repetitious.)
(Dr. James Lennox also brings up a similar point, though
with much more facility than this author in his review of
the book, "The Roots of Ayn Rand?" _IOS Journal_ 5(4). I
have some disagreements with Lennox's characterizations of dualisms in Objectivism. I hardly think the dichotomy
between "existence" and "consciousness" is similar in any
"important way" to the previous incarnations of dualism,
such as Descartes' division between spirit and matter.)
That both Lossky and Rand sought to avoid competing "schools of thought" does not mean they succeeded. Here, I part
company with Sciabarra. I think it is too early to tell
what will become of the various factions within Objectivism. Who could have predicted that Martin Luther's 95 Theses
would spark the Reformation that has led to there being
hundreds of sects of Christianity? Who can tell if the
issues now motivating the factions within the Objectivist
movement may not diverge in the future. People who
originally fought over whether libertarians are hopeless
nihilists may in the future find other differences -- more important to them -- to fight over. This seems to be the
case with the Peikoff/Kelley split.
Anyway, real science, if that is the benchmark to be used, is not so monolithic. Despite 130 years of Darwin, there
are factions within evolutionary biology for instance.
Questions over the tempo of evolution, the units of
selection and the role of initial conditions are a source of controversy. They are also, in a seemingly dialectical
fashion, the source of growth. (See, for instance, Daniel Brooks' and E. O. Wiley's _Evolution as Entropy: Toward a Unified Theory of Biology_ -- which I hope to review one of these days!)
I must also disagree with Merrill's characterization of the third part the book -- "The Radical Rand." This section
deals with Rand's social theories -- her views of the
dynamics of the welfare state, the role of ideas in society, and the means of effecting social change for the better.
This is, but should NOT be, original work. Outside of
Rand's own works, this field gets little attention from
Objectivists. Sciabarra is really the first to break out
into the open about it. Much of his work seems tedious and will probably be refined by later thinkers. I wrote that
this "should NOT be original work" because many Objectivists go on and on about changing society. One would think this would be the most studied area of her philosophy. Instead, with the exception of Peikoff's _The Ominous Parallels_,
this area has relegated to the dustbin. It is good to see Sciabarra recover it -- even if one may disagree with his
particular analyses.
I hope I have at least shown why Sciabarra's book is not
worthy of the review given by Merrill. One would hope
reviewers would not go to their keyboards with axe in hand -- that instead of being ready to attack, they would be
ready to learn.
---------------
Dear Mr. Ust: [this reply was never sent]
Thank you for your response to my review. I will make only a few brief comments in reply. As a general preface, may I suggest that more care in reading the text you are criticizing would be appropriate? As my friend Adam Reed once said, "A clear view of what one is attacking is as necessary for a philosopher as it is for a sniper."
"Whether the book will affect academy is of secondary importance."
That's as may be. In my review, and in later commentary, I presented cogent reasons why I think otherwise. However, in any case this topic took up only a small fraction of my review.
"I agree _Ayn Rand: The Russian Radical_ is not light reading. This is a minor attack."
Why do you think it is an attack at all?
"If Objectivists are to be taken seriously they must not only know what they are dishing out, but have some ability to understand other philosophers."
Actually, I happen to be fairly proficient in philosophical terminology myself; so are Sciabarra's other Objectivist critics, as far as I can see. But I sometimes wonder if that's a virtue at all, let alone an "absolute virtue." As Crates said, "One part of wisdom consists of being ignorant of that which is not worthy of being known." But in any case, your claim provokes the question: "taken seriously"--by whom?
" . . . because reality is whole, those who deny one part while reifying another . . . "
One cannot reify a part of reality; anything that's a part of reality is already real. Nitpicking, I know, but one ought to be careful about this sort of thing when criticizing others' familiarity with philosophical terminology.
"Anyway, real science, if that is the benchmark to be used, is not so monolithic. Despite 130 years of Darwin, there
are factions within evolutionary biology for instance."
Even though biology is by far the youngest and least mature of the "hard" sciences, one does not find in this field anything remotely approaching the "schools of thought" characteristic of philosophy. The debates over such issues as punctuated equilibrium and kin selection concern peripheral issues. They can be reduced to: "Every biologist agrees that phenomenon X occurs; but some biologists believe that it happens frequently, and others that it happens only rarely." This is quite different from a disagreement over the fundamental premises of the field, such as is common in philosophy. Now, if modern biology were still debating such issues as vitalism or spontaneous generation or classical Lamarckism, *that* would be a conflict between "schools of thought."
"One would hope reviewers would not go to their keyboards with axe in hand -- that instead of being ready to attack, they would be ready to learn."
Physician, heal thyself . . .
As an Objectivist, I think it is commendable for a young person to think for himself and to be ready to challenge authority without being intimidated. And one learns by making mistakes; certainly I did, and though I cannot think back to some of the things I said as a young man without a certain embarrassment, I also know that the experience was good for me. I now recall with gratitude the patience with which I was treated by some of my seniors. It is too late to repay them, and now that I am in their position I can only try to imitate their example. That is why I have taken the time to respond to your message; and I hope that, when your turn comes, you will do as much for members of the generation following yours.
Sincerely,
Ron Merrill
ronmerrill@bix.com