A common assumption -albeit wrong-, is that philosophy is useless. We’re painted as grumbling pessimists who go around wondering about angels’ gender. There is a bit of that, for sure, but contemporary philosophy has real-world implications.
“Politics” is largely understood as the different strategies used to resolve conflicts peacefully. “Democracy” is one of these strategies. A hugely popular system, it is constantly being challenged in the West. Let’s look at this from a linguistic point of view, so we can draw an accurate picture of the current state of things.
Philosophical language models form the basic structure of our system. Why? Because after World War II, thinkers basically agreed that in order to avoid such a catastrophe ever happening again, we needed clear rules for conflict-solving. Alfred Jules Ayer was among them. An analytical philosopher, Ayer wound up witnessing the horrors of war firsthand. After seeing a tank crush somebody and hearing the horrifying screams, he decided we needed to build a language-based conflict solving system.
The challenge was to come up with a model of how language works during conflicts. The models these post-war philosophers proposed were synthesized and introduced into our modern political exchanges.
The most influential was Jürgen Habermas. Drawing on the pragmatics school of philosophy, the German philosopher proposed what is known as “communicative reason”. His idea centers on “understanding” a competence he ascribes to human beings and which he believes underlies our institutions and society as a whole.
His theory, although it is written in incomprehensible Habermasich (a kind of German no one really understands) is not that complicated: he establishes conditions for distinguishing “understanding” from “comprehending” and explains how two competing discourses can find common ground.
Two additional philosophers are central to this debate: J.L. Austin and John Searle. The first one came up with “speech acts” which are particular language structures that utilize a performative function, while the second one created a theory based on commitments and promises.
Why concentrate on reaching agreements? Because philosophers realized in the 20th Century that trying to isolate “Reality” or find “Truths” through language was impossible (see Göddel and Wittgenstein’s critiques, for example). Hence, let’s concentrate on outcomes (or performances) instead. If I order, “close the window”, the conditions of Truth are irrelevant. All that matters is that you close the damn window, not that you go around wondering if this window is the shadow of a Platonic window trapped outside a cave or something.
However, these three authors (and all language philosophy) proceeds from an ontological assumption that is currently being questioned: our interlocutor has to really believe what he says, i.e., not lie. This is obvious in the case of John Searle, who will read all language interactions as promises and commitments: in the previous example, Searle would interpret the locution as, “I promise I really want you to close the window”, ergo, I’m not clowning around or being cynical. His model comes crashing down to the ground when you introduce lying, since he explicitly says you must really intend to do what you say, or you’re producing an “insincere promise” that his model can’t process.
All these thinkers borrow heavily from models based on sincerity and charity. Sincerity, because I must really mean what I mean; charity, because I must extend the same courtesy to you: no matter how radical your idea may be, I must assume you really believe it’s true. If either you or I are insincere, the model breaks down.
I imagine you see where I’m going with this: Philosophers create language models based on sincerity and charity, politicians built institutions (like the U.N.) based on these models. So what happens when people stop extending an olive branch to their institutions? When they ascribe cruel underlying intentions to our political system?
You get a political crisis. You get people isolated in their own beliefs, convinced everybody else is being insincere, trying to trick them. No more discussion. No more exchanges.
This is what worries me about the current state of affairs in France: There’s no more communication. People feel their institutions are useless in the best case, insincere and captured by financial incentives, in the worst.
I don’t know if this is a sign that we’re entering a different, new world. All I can tell you is that when people talk about institutions being “broken”, what they mean is that these models aren’t working anymore. It’s no help that extreme parties in France are actively working to delegitimize whatever is left of our institutions, playing a dangerous game of rejecting all propositions, accusing institutions of being insincere and pushing people towards violence. The State doesn’t help, either: candidates who promise one thing while on the campaign trail and then do exactly the opposite when in office. Politicians with no honor, capable of lying through their teeth when presented with evidence of their wrong doings.
For now, the language game is blocked, and no one seems ready to budge.
Brilliant, Vinz! bookmarked and shared