A meandering, muddy, and generally low-quality post, which mostly just recapitulates recent lines of thought on the blog, by way of some underpowered reflections on what we’re doing in social-scientific explanation.  I’m going to start by talking briefly about some themes in analytic philosophy (atomism versus holism).  Then I’m going to bring in debates within analytical Marxism over microfoundations and methodological individualism.  Then I’ll talk about the way in which Brandom’s approach to the holism-atomism debate could in principle be used to resolve the analytical Marxist debate over microfoundations.  Finally, I’ll talk about why I don’t actually want to take the Brandomiam explanatory route I’ve outlined in the post – so the post will conclude without actually settling anything, but just pointing the way towards reading tasks I’m setting myself.

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Start with the ‘inauguration’ of Anglophone analytic philosophy by Bertrand Russell.  In the early years of the twentieth century, Russell differentiated his new logical atomism from the holism of the then-dominant Hegelian idealist tradition.  Russell famously drew this contrast by comparing the holist picture of the universe to a bowl of jelly, and the atomistic to a bucket of shot.  (Clearly, we’re meant to think, shot is better than jelly.)  Holism sought to explain individual phenomena by seeing them as part of a larger whole, and unintelligible independently of that whole.  Atomism sought to reduce the complex whole to its simple components, and fully explain the whole as made up of those components.  For Russell, one of the core objections to holism was its mystical failure to provide any kind of explanatory clarity – in this sense, holism was anti-scientific.  By contrast, atomism was all about explanatory clarity – the goal of atomistic explanation was to break down complex wholes into their more basic parts, and this explanatory process is the core of the scientific impulse.  In this sense, an ‘analytic’ philosophy, which sought to break complex wholes down into their atomic subcomponents in a way that brought analytic clarity, was a ‘scientific’ philosophy, even if it was not scientific in the sense of being tethered to experimental observation.  (Whether Russell is right to think about science in these atomistic terms is another question which this post will not address.)

This atomism was the “fighting faith” of Russellian analytic philosophy.  One of the features that picked out this analytic tradition from other atomistic or similarly reductionist explanatory traditions was its emphasis on language.  Russell’s project was, in the first instance, a project in philosophical semantics, which proposed a specifically logical atomism.  This logical atomism was, for Russell, as for many though not all figures in the Vienna Circle, tethered to a form of Humean empiricism, in which sense-data was the only ultimate ‘content’ of atomic meaning-units.  There were all kinds of philosophical problems with this project, which the subsequent analytic tradition has litigated at huge (and intellectually valuable) length – it’s not at all obvious that atomism in anything much like Russell’s sense can even be made to make sense as either a semantics or a metaphysics.  And my general philosophical orientation is strongly anti-metaphysical, so I’m not interested in pursuing the debate between atomism and holism at the metaphysical level at all – my (conventionally post-Kantian) view is that metaphysics is basically just an ill-formed project.

With that important caveat, the distinction between atomism and holism can still be made at the level of semantics – and, separately, it can still be made at the level of ‘vibes’.  At the level of semantics, Brandom’s project is, of course, a form of holism: Brandom argues that you can’t make sense of apparently ‘atomic’ constituents of linguistic content without understanding the content of those apparently ‘atomic’ units as granted by their functional role within a much larger semantic system.  We need to explain semantic components by their place in the whole, rather than the semantic whole as made up out of the building blocks of those independently-analysable meaning-units.  Brandom, then, is reviving an explicitly Hegelian semantic holism, using resources from the ‘analytic’ tradition: from Brandom’s rationally reconstructive perspective the tradition has gone ‘full circle’ back to the Hegelian holism it began by rejecting.

Fair enough.  But Brandom’s holistic semantics is not itself explanatorily fundamental – Brandom embeds his semantics within a pragmatics, which explains the semantics as instituted by human action.  And I think one can at least arguably make the case that Brandom’s pragmatics is more ‘atomistic’ than his semantics.  This claim would need to be made with many caveats and grains of salt.  After all, at the metaphysical level Brandom argues that there is a hylomorphism between the two poles of the intentional nexus: the holism that makes individual meaning-units unintelligible outside of a larger inferential network also makes individual objects unintelligible outside of a larger network of lawlike interconnected modal dispositions.  In this sense, both the ‘normative’ and the ‘objective’ poles of Brandom’s account of (what other philosophers would call) the mind-world relation are equally holist.  Since Brandom’s pragmatics is grounded in his account of law-like dispositions, this means one can’t call his pragmatics ‘atomistic’ in any very strong sense at all, certainly not metaphysically.

Still, I don’t endorse Brandom’s metaphysics (because I don’t endorse any metaphysics).  And at the level of ‘vibes’, rather than of metaphysics, I think there’s a case to be made that Brandom’s pragmatics is towards the more ‘atomistic’ end of the ‘atomism-holism’ spectrum, in at least some sense.  That sense is the following: Brandom’s pragmatics provides ‘microfoundations’ for his semantic holism.  

My shift here from talking about metaphysics to talking about ‘vibes’ comes with an obvious risk of a complete collapse of clarity.  What am I even saying when I start discussing ‘vibes’?  In my head, it’s legitimate to think in these kinds of terms because of the “psychodynamics as first philosophy” social-psychological subject naturalism that I’m trying to work with here.  Analysing things in terms of ‘vibes’ can mean analysing the social-psychological affective structure that ultimately institutes or constitutes our other objects of analysis (or, at a minimum, our understanding of those objects).  So, in shifting here from discussion of metaphysics to discussion of ‘vibes’, I mean to differentiate two different philosophical (and social-scientific) dispositions, which relate to the category of explanation which is found (for want of a better phrase) affectively satisfying.  Recall that on the ‘default-challenge-response’ Brandomian model of authority that I’m endorsing, every community has some kind of background commitments that are locally unchallenged.  Different communities therefore have different ‘discursive locations’ where the chain of challenges comes to rest in a commitment that is accepted as presumptively legitimate.  Thinking about things in this way lets us differentiate two different (ideal-typical) categories of social-scientific explanatory community: those that are ‘satisfied’ when explanation ‘comes to rest’ at the level of a social whole, and those that are ‘satisfied’ when explanation ‘comes to rest’ at the level of the ‘atomic’ subcomponents of the social whole.  We don’t need to think of these two approaches as requiring different metaphysics, or different social ontologies (though they may) – at base they can be analysed in terms of these different kinds of affective explanatory satisfactions.  These are two different social-emotional dispositions.

So – one kind of community is typically satisfied when it can direct explanatory challenges to supra-individual ‘social facts’; another kind of community is typically satisfied when it can direct explanatory challenges to ‘atomic’ individual-level human actions or attitudes.  Very broadly, sociological theory tends to align with the former approach, and economic theory with the latter.

What I’m saying is that, although Brandom is neither a semantic nor a metaphysical atomist, Brandom’s pragmatics is sufficiently detailed in its account of the specific social practices that institute norms and meanings that it seems reasonable to me to see Brandom as offering a ‘microfounded’ account of the social practices that institute (holistically analysable) meanings.  In this specific sense, Brandom can be seen as closer to the ‘atomist’ pole of the ‘vibes-based’ spectrum of atomism/holism.  At one level, then, Brandom is maximally rejecting the Russellian project – he is rejecting semantic atomism in favour of semantic holism, and indeed a Hegelian semantic holism.  At another level, though, Brandom is engaged in the analytic decomposition of meanings into their constituent parts – he is simply doing so at the pragmatic level of actions rather than the semantic level of meaning-units.  Pragmatic microfoundations can be used to give an account of how semantic content, understood holistically at the level of semantics, is enacted.  In this sense Brandom is (as he puts it in ‘Between Saying and Doing’) extending the traditional project of analysis.

Fine.  This is all an incredibly laborious (yet simultaneously quite vague and sloppy) way of drawing a very familiar distinction: between the kinds of social science that emphasise ‘social wholes’ and the kinds of social science that emphasise ‘microfoundations’.  Still, I’ve approached things in this laborious way in part because I think some common ways of drawing that distinction are quite misleading.  I’m now going to pivot to a discussion of one such misleading way: a debate within ‘first wave analytical Marxism’ over functionalism and microfoundations.

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In his reconstruction of Marx’s philosophy of history, which more or less kicks off ‘analytical Marxism’ as an English-language tradition, G.A. Cohen makes the case for the legitimacy of functional explanation in the social sciences.  By contrast, in a series of texts around the same time, Jon Elster is extremely critical of what he sees as a vastly excessive use of functional explanation in the social sciences, and specifically in Marxism.  Cohen and Elster have some back-and-forth on this topic, with Elster moderating his position somewhat, but still clearly thinking that Cohen is being egregiously sloppy in his casual use of functional explanations.  The dispute, as I see it, boils down to the following.  Both theorists agree that functional explanations are sometimes legitimate.  Both theorists agree (though Elster shifts his position towards Cohen’s, on this, in response to critique) that functional explanations can be valuable even if we can’t specify the mechanism that makes them true.  So, for example, Darwin was able to give an incredibly powerful functional explanation of biological traits (evolution via natural selection) but that explanation specified mechanism only in the most abstract way – Darwin (and Alfred Russel Wallace) had no account of how evolution via natural selection actually operated in any kind of detail.  This didn’t stop Darwinism from being a scientific breakthrough – a breakthrough without (biological) ‘microfoundations’.  

But Cohen and Elster disagree over how important it is to be able to specify the mechanism that ultimately makes our functional explanation work.  How legitimate is it to give a functional explanation without detailed explanatory microfoundations?  Cohen has a pretty relaxed attitude on this score: for Cohen, sure, it would be nice if we could specify mechanism, but science progresses slowly, and mechanism can wait.  For Elster, by contrast, bogus and nonsensical functional explanations are so rampant in the social sciences that anyone who gives a functional explanation without an account of specific causal mechanisms undergirding the explanation can legitimately be presumed to be just bullshitting.  For this reason, Elster thinks that we have a strong obligation to microfound our social analysis; Cohen thinks we only have a weak obligation.

In this whole exchange, I think Cohen pretty convincingly stands his ground against Elster’s initial position (which is a too-stringent rejection of non-microfounded functional explanations).  Moreover, Elster’s unsympathetic reading of other social theorists, alongside the limitations of his own theoretical framework, can lead Elster to reject as bullshitters theorists who are actually making perfectly good sense, at least by my lights.  (I’ve argued this with respect to Elster’s critique of Bourdieu; I think Elster is also ungenerous in his too-frequent attribution of teleological functional explanations to Marx.)  Nevertheless, in terms of what ‘explanatory resting-point’ I myself find satisfying, I am, at base, with Elster.  Elster is right, it seems to me, that functional explanations which do not see themselves as obliged to give an account of actual causal mechanisms in play are a haven for poor reasoning and explanatory evasiveness.  Indeed, this goes for Cohen himself: although his arguments about functional explanation are interesting, the theory of history that Cohen reconstructs and attributes to Marx in his book is (in my view) basically silly.  This is the kind of theory that can look sort of plausible at the right level of abstraction, and as long as one doesn’t start talking specifics in too much detail, but once one starts to think concretely about mechanisms it looks extremely shaky.  At base, then, I think Elster is absolutely right to place a strong demand for detailed causal mechanisms on functionalist explanations, and the “detailed” bit of that demand means microfoundations.

Ok.  So let’s say we align with Elster against Cohen on the importance of microfoundations in social science.  Then the question becomes: what microfoundations?  (Here, by “microfoundations”, I of course mean the analytic decomposition of a large-scale phenomenon into more ‘atomic’ subcomponents – that’s the connection to the first part of this post, on holism and atomism.)

The Elster and John Roemer of this period have the same clear answer to this question of microfoundations: rational choice theory.  Both Elster and Roemer will ultimately end up breaking with traditional rational choice theory, but in this post I’m interested in the original analytical Marxist project.  Elster in particular is strongly committed to methodological individualism (a commitment he retains to this day, even though he is much more sceptical than he used to be about the “rational” bit of “rational choice theory”).

The problem with this approach to microfoundations, for analytical Marxism, as both Elster and Roemer acknowledge, is that methodological individualism stands in clear tension with one of the core substantive commitments of Marxism (and of much other social science): the idea that “social being determines consciousness” – that we cannot understand individuals just as individuals, but that even apparently individual-level intentions are in some deep way socially formed.  Here is Roemer:

Neoclassical economics, being primarily concerned with positive description, usually (though not always) postulates individual preferences as given.  I think this postulate is more than methodological: it is ideological and flows from the dictum ‘Cogito ergo sum.’  Marxism reverses the Cartesian epigram, and asserts that people’s preferences are in large part the consequence of social conditioning.  This is an important consideration, if one intends to use rational choice models for describing welfare, for making normative judgements about the consequences of rational activity.  Rational choice models should be used to develop a theory of endogenous preference formation.  A materialist psychology is necessary to derive preferences from endowments and history. (193)

And here is Elster:

rational choice theory takes the desires and preferences of the agents as given, whereas Marxists want to explain them…. the preferences of each depend on the actions of all.  Although neither Marxism nor any other social theory has gone very far towards a theory of endogenous preference formation, this is clearly a very important problem. (209)

(Both quotes are from the Roemer-edited 1986 ‘Analytical Marxism’ volume.)

So there is a problem, which both Roemer and Elster acknowledge, with using rational choice theory as our explanatory microfoundations: rational choice theory, in its traditional form, has limited resources for the analysis of endogenous preference formation.

Now, since Roemer and Elster published these pieces there has been a vast amount of work on the issue of endogenous preference formation.  I’ve read almost none of that work – this is one of the (many) reading tasks I need to spend a lot more time on, and, unsatisfyingly, I want to largely bracket the issue of endogenous preferences until I’ve done at least a little more of that reading.

Still, even bracketing the question of endogenous preference formation, the Marxist emphasis on the social determination of consciousness potentially opens up an even more ‘fundamental’ set of philosophical issues.  Granted that individual-level preferences are socially shaped, is it also the case that the very existence of preferences as such is socially instituted?  The neopragmatist approach to the problem of intentionality answers “yes” to this question.  For the neopragmatist, ‘original intentionality’ is itself a product of social practices, and therefore to stop one’s analysis at the level of individual intentionality (as one’s ‘atomic’ unit of microfounded explanation) is to make a mistake about the appropriate basic explanatory unit for our social-theoretic explanation.  If intentions in general can only be understood by reference to sociality, then an account of endogenous preference formation is still mistaking a social product for an explanatory building block. 

This neopragmatist explanatory approach suggests that Roemer and Elster are wrong about what is required to microfound Marxism.  Roemer and Elster both identify microfoundations with methodological individualism and, more specifically, rational choice theory.  But this is not the only available theoretical option.

In an important and (in my view) under-discussed contribution to the Carver and Thomas edited volume ‘Rational Choice Marxism’, Mark E. Warren challenges Elster’s version of methodological individualism.  Warren distinguishes between three categories of methodological individualism, which he calls “methodological individualism of events”, “methodological individualism of subjects” and “methodological individualism of actions or practices” (233-4).  I think this is a slightly confusing way of putting things – for my tastes, only the second of these (“of subjects”) is what people normally mean by ‘methodological individualism’ – the subject is the individual in methodological individualism.  I think it’s better to see Warren’s three categories of ‘methodological individualism’ as three different categories of microfoundations.  Rephrasing Warren’s point in my own preferred vocabulary, I take it that Warren is endorsing Elster’s explanatory emphasis on microfoundations, but rejecting what I would call Elster’s methodological individualism.  Instead, Warren is proposing that we can microfound our account of social reality on the ‘atomic’ basis of actions and practices, instead of individual subjects.

I think this is a very important point, and it opens up a research programme within analytical Marxism that has (as far as I know) been largely unpursued.  Moreover, this idea has obvious overlap with what Brandom makes of Hegel in A Spirit of Trust.  Brandom reconstructs Hegel as a ‘fundamental pragmatist’, whose semantic holism can be grounded in the microfoundations of linguistic practice.  The Hegel of A Spirit of Trust thus offers an account of meaning which is microfounded in Warren’s third sense of methodological individualism (“actions and practices”), but which rejects Warren’s second sense (“subjects”).  In other words, Brandom’s Hegel offers just the kind of apparatus that could allow us to ‘make good’ on Warren’s proposal for bringing Roemer and Elster’s commitment to microfoundations more in line with Marx’s own approach.  And, of course, this makes a lot of sense, because Marx himself is heavily influenced by Hegel.  If Brandom is right that this approach to microfoundations really can be extracted from Hegel, well, maybe that’s part of where Marx has gotten it from.  On this approach, Elster and Roemer are looking in the wrong place for microfoundations for Marx’s framework.

All of this, as I say, points the way towards a research programme.  That research programme is the following: take Brandom’s analytic reworking of Hegel as our starting point and, just as Marx ‘materialised’ Hegel, ‘materialise’ Brandom’s Hegel in a way that integrates analytic Hegelianism with analytical Marxism.  In the past, on the blog, I’ve made a number of moves in that direction.  And I’m not the only person thinking along these lines.  In 2024 there was a conference at University College London on ‘Marxism and the Pittsburgh School’ (meaning Sellars, Brandom, McDowell), where a number of speakers discussed related ideas – I still haven’t listened to all the presentations at that event, but they are available on YouTube. 

Speaking for myself, and speaking very loosely, I think there are two broad approaches one could take to bringing Brandom and Marx together.  The first approach is to offer a more ‘semantic’ reading of Marx.  There is a major figure – Habermas – who is already doing something in this space, with his reworking of Frankfurt School critical theory in a linguistic philosophical register, and his grounding of emancipatory critique in the philosophy of language as first philosophy.  Brandom himself cites Habermas as an important influence, so this is a very reasonable project to pursue.

The second approach is to offer a more ‘materialist’ reading of Brandom.  This is the project I’ve been pursuing.  The goal here would be to try to extend Brandom’s normative pragmatics beyond the domain of linguistic philosophy.

So – there’s an available project here, which would take something like the following shape.  We agree, with Elster and Roemer, that Marxism should have microfoundations.  We also agree that those microfoundations need to give an account of the social formation of preferences and opinions – intentional content.  We follow neopragmatism in adopting a ‘radical’ version of this project – adopting the view that intentionality itself, in general, is socially instituted.  We therefore follow Warren in the view that we need to reject methodological individualism about subjects as our preferred microfoundation – instead, our microfounding categories should be actions and practices.  Brandom gives us a very elaborate apparatus for making good on this approach – but Brandom is too focused on the linguistic.  So we need to extend Brandom’s practice-theoretic microfoundations of the theory of intentionality to the kinds of practices that are of interest to Marxists.

This seems to me like a project extremely worth pursuing.  Nevertheless, it’s not quite the project I want to pursue on the blog.  That’s because – as I keep saying – Brandom is an eliminativist about the mental, and I think that our social theory should not only give a central explanatory role to practices, but should also give a central explanatory role to desires.  I’m not prepared to follow Brandom in evacuating subjectivity, or in analysing desire in purely normative expressivist terms.  So the Brandomian apparatus is unacceptable to me, along this dimension.

So here is my dilemma.  I endorse the ‘microfoundations’ approach to social-theoretic explanation.  But there are two paradigms of microfoundational explanation I’ve been discussing, which have directly opposite explanatory directions.  On the one hand, there is the “desire first” explanatory direction which finds formal expression in decision theory: the individual and their desires are the basic units of analysis.  The problem with this approach is that, pretty clearly, desires cannot be adequately analysed – certainly not fully analysed – at the level of the individual.  On the other hand, there is the “practice first” explanatory direction which finds formal expression in Brandom’s apparatus: social practices are the basic unit of analysis.  The problem with this approach is that it evacuates desire – it gives desire no basic explanatory role at all, and I find this a very unappealing feature of the framework.

Is it possible to have one’s cake and eat it too, here?  Is it possible to treat desire as explanatorily basic, but not analyse desire in a methodologically individualist way?  In some sense, I think, Hegel is trying to do this – but honestly I don’t know what it would look like to reconstruct this element of Hegel in a more legible analytic idiom.  Lacan is also doing this – but Lacan is even more opaque – and much less rewardingly and justifiably so – than Hegel, by my lights.  So I feel like I have limited resources available for thinking about this question.

My current broad plan of action, then, is to attempt to advance along three fronts.  First, there’s social identity theory – that is to say, the social-scientific analysis of the way “The I that is We, the We that is I” actually works in social practice, rather than in the utopian ideal of Hegelian social totality.  Second, there’s mathematised decision theory.  Here I’m particularly, but again of course by no means exclusively, interested in social preference formation.  My basic plan is just to read more in these traditions, bashing them against each other, and see where I end up.  Third and finally, there’s the philosophical or metatheoretical level, trying to make sense of all of this philosophically.

This has been an extremely muddy post, even by my standards – there are quite a few things in here that I’m already unhappy with, even before hitting publish.  But what to do – I’m going to follow the blog’s general approach of just posting through it, and see if I end up anywhere more worthwhile, eventually.

Famously or notoriously, analytical Marxism sometimes branded itself as “no-bullshit Marxism”.  Broadly speaking, this meant aiming to make use of the best available tools of so-called ‘bourgeois’ philosophy and social science, rather than the kinds of heterodox – in its eyes, mystifying – tools associated with (for example) Hegelian or Althusserian philosophy.

I take it that there are two quite general kinds of bullshit (a bit more neutrally: argumentative move) which analytical Marxism thereby rejected.  Call these normative and analytic.

On the normative side, I think anyone who has spent any time at all in Marxist spaces will be familiar with “argument from you’re not a Marxist”.  The argument goes: we all agree that being a Marxist is the best possible political identity – that non-Marxists are misguided at best, and more likely despicable scum; this claim you’ve made is hardly Marxist; in fact this claim is liberal / conservative / reactionary / fascist / deviationist / opportunistic / etc. etc.; therefore the claim is wrong; moreover the reason you’re making the claim is that you’re either in need of political education (at best) or (more likely) reactionary slime who should be shunned, and possibly shot come the revolution.

People are entitled – at least in many cases – to draw the boundaries of their community where they want, so in that minimal sense this form of argument by political identity policing can make sense.  And, of course, the people making this category of argument would typically not accept that it functions via political identity policing – rather, they would say, it functions via actual commitment to revolution / emancipation / etc. unlike the disgusting bourgeois deviationism exhibited by their many enemies.  But as a mode of argument for actual claims, rather than a mode of argument for the location of the boundary of a community of shared belief, this is an absolutely terrible form of argument, and it’s embarrassing how widespread it is.  Yes, it’s sometimes legitimate to argue ‘backwards’ from a moral or political commitment – and there is a lot to be said about when this form of argument is and is not legitimate; I’m not going to get into that here.  Nevertheless, in most actual cases, I’m convinced, this kind of argument is simply a form of aggressive dogmatism.

I take it that the analytical Marxists largely reject this mode of argument.  I wouldn’t want to vouch for them all in all contexts, but certainly their works typically give off much less in the way of “hunt the deviationist” vibes than do most Marxists’.  And I take it that this in turn has a lot to do with the fact that most of the analytical Marxists became significantly less Marxist over time.  From the perspective of other Marxist tendencies, of course, this drifting away from Marxism is simply further evidence of the analytical Marxists’ contemptible liberal deviationism: detached from a politically legitimate class identity in their bourgeois ivory towers, and undisciplined by the exigencies of real struggle, these academic elites of course fall into profoundly reactionary forms of idealist revanchism, etc. etc.  From my point of view, though, once you remove the social-psychological power of the forms of bullying that constitute ‘argument’ in a large proportion of Marxist discourse, of course people are more likely to drift away from “the movement”: loyalty to socio-political grouping often stands in tension with independent-mindedness.  If compliance with the ‘correct line’ is in large part enacted via bullying (or, indeed, in many “actually existing” Marxist governance structures, the threat and reality of violence) then refusing to accept those illegitimate modes of argument will of course greatly increase the chance of ‘deviation’.

That’s on the normative side of things.  On the analytic side – where most of the intellectual action is – the disagreement is basically over the methodological tools appropriate to the analysis of social reality.  The defining analytical Marxist claim, I take it, is that the best analytical tools of “bourgeois” philosophy and social science are absolutely fine, and should be used to the full, no matter one’s political orientation.  What that means in practice differs across the analytical Marxists (Elster: rational choice theory; Roemer: general equilibrium theory; Cohen: analytic philosophy; Przeworski: game theory; Wright: regular sociology), but the analytical Marxists are broadly united in the idea that there isn’t a special set of Marxist methodological tools.  By contrast, many other social-scientific Marxist traditions (I don’t think this nearly as true in history, as best I can tell, but that falls outside my areas of serious study) often insist that one of the defining features of Marxism is that it exposes the inadequacy of bourgeois social science, and makes available a quite different set of analytic tools.

This is, fundamentally, a disagreement in the philosophy of (social) science.  One of the core Marxist claims is that “social being determines consciousness” – that in some sense the social location one inhabits and the social practices one engages in have a very significant influence on the content of one’s thoughts.  This claim is the basis of Marxist ‘ideology critique’ – and ideology critique typically encompasses the critique of social science.  Marx himself is paradigmatic here, with Capital as a “critique of political economy” which denounces “bourgeois political economy” as an ideological obfuscation of the real functioning of the capitalist economy.  On this model it is legitimate to throw out huge swathes of “bourgeois social science” and replace those “bourgeois” analytic tools with alternative, less ideological methodological resources.

The analytical Marxists reject this move.  They think that social science is social science, and that if Marxist arguments are correct they should be presentable in a so-called “bourgeois” idiom.  Moreover, they think that by insisting on this sharp methodological break with the “bourgeois” mainstream, many forms of Marxism are pointlessly denying themselves valuable analytic resources.

I agree with the analytical Marxists on this point.  Nevertheless, there is a question here.  The adoption of “bourgeois” analytic tools seems on its face to be not just a methodological break with more social-scientifically heterodox forms of Marxist theory, but also a substantive break with one of the core positive claims of Marx’s work: a rejection of the basic framework of ideology critique.  The methodological disagreement is therefore also a first-order social-theoretic or social-scientific disagreement about the way in which social location and social practice relates to scientific methodology.

I’ve spent more of my life than really makes any sense wrestling with this question of what it even means to say something like “social being determines consciousness”.  I take it that something in this space is also the core claim of philosophical pragmatism: the idea that our ideas should be analysed in terms of social location and social practices.  The view I’ve come to (which I’m certainly not going to defend in this post – the blog as a whole is a record of my thinking here) is that even if we adopt the very strongest form of this position available – the idea that ideas as such, intentionality as such, are wholly socially constituted – one can’t actually get any very strong form of “standpoint epistemology” to work.  The best one can do, I think, is get a standpoint-theory-influenced form of epistemic pluralism.  I think the best one can get out of Marxist standpoint epistemology is something like what Helen Longino gets out of feminist standpoint epistemology – the idea that different social locations and practices are often associated with different insights, and that the search for truth therefore ought to be mobile across many different perspectives.  The problem with this pluralist reworking of standpoint epistemology, from a Marxist perspective, is that most forms of Marxism are vehemently anti-pluralist: denunciatory polemic, not exploratory perspectival eclecticism, is the order of the day.  (Here too, perhaps regrettably, the tradition takes its rhetorical bearings from Marx himself).

Nevertheless, if one is somewhat serious about trying to reconstruct the most rationally compelling resources one can manage out of a Marxist tradition that is awash in belligerent thuggish anti-intellectual bullying, I think this kind of social-perspectival epistemic pluralism is the best one can do.  And this basic category of position is the one I’ve been trying to work through on the blog.  I’m not specifically committed to the analytical Marxist sub-tradition – or indeed (as is probably obvious) to Marxism – one of the virtues of the sub-tradition, I take it, is its commitment to following arguments to their conclusions, rather than ‘party lines’.  Nevertheless, I think the resources I’ve been working through on the blog could, in principle, give a more adequate account, using “analytical” resources, of what is worth recuperating from the Marxist ideology critique tradition, than the ‘first wave’ analytical Marxists themselves managed.  Much has changed since the heyday of ‘first wave’ analytical Marxism: analytic philosophy is a lot more amenable to both rationally reconstructed Hegelianism (Pippin; Brandom) and ideology critique (Haslanger et al.), and mainstream economics also has some new Marxist-adjacent resources (I’m thinking of Acemoğlu and Robinson, and related strands of class-conflict-centred institutional economics).  So it seems to me that there’s room here for some kind of rapprochement between the core of the ideology critique tradition, which has historically typically resulted in the belligerent rejection of “bourgeois” social science, and the analytical Marxist view that the best analytic resources of bourgeois social science are simply the best social-scientific resources we have. I think there are better ways to square this circle than the analytical Marxists themselves managed to articulate.

At any rate, this is the broad intellectual space I take myself to be located in, or near.

I’m once again thinking out loud here, rather than having anything particularly coherent to articulate.  The topic is once again the hermeneutics of suspicion.

I’ll start by yet again, very quickly re-expressing some core features of my basic metaethical apparatus.  This apparatus is: a) phenomenalist – I adopt what Crispin Wright calls the “projectivist” horn of the Ethyphro dilemma: in some sense things are good because we take them to be good, rather than the other way around (“there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”); b) grounded in ideal observer theory, along the lines articulated by Adam Smith.  The basic idea, here, is that a good action is one that would be endorsed by an appropriately idealised observer, just because that ideal observer endorses it.  We carry within us our models of this ideal observer, constructed piecemeal out of actual observers.  But we are fallible – we may not know what the ideal observer judges, or we may believe we know but be mistaken, or we may be wrong about the appropriate principles of idealisation operative in our formation of our model of the ideal observer, etc.  My way of cashing out this fallibilism relies on the ‘default-challenge-response’ model of rational negotiation articulated by Robert Brandom: the ideal observer is constructed out of this social-perspectival game, and that game, understood in a properly pragmatist spirit, cannot give us non-fallible knowledge.  On this account there is always a ‘formal’ gap between any internal model we carry of the ideal observer, and what that ideal observer might, in fact, be: everything we take to be the case is always potentially open to challenge, and we can therefore always imagine the formal possibility of an ideal perspective from which our current perspective is properly seen as faulty – this gap is intrinsic to our concept of a properly idealised ideal observer.  This approach prevents our ideal observer theory from being vulnerable to the Wittgensteinian objection that “whatever is going to seem right to me is right. And that only means that here we can’t talk about ‘right’.”  At any rate, this is my claim, and I’m not planning to revisit this set of commitments of mine in the short term.

Fine.  All of this is operating within the space of a broadly ‘subject naturalist’ framework, in Huw Price’s sense.  Now, what are the resources we use to describe the actions of the subject in this form of subject naturalism?

Here I think there are three broad categories of meta-vocabulary available for the description of the subjects whose actions institute the norms we’re interested in.  These three meta-vocabularies involve: objective description of dispositions of action; normative descriptions of proprieties of action; and subjective-psychological descriptions of motives for action.  There is a disagreement between Huw Price and Robert Brandom over whether a naturalistic (as per Price) or normative (as per Brandom) metavocabulary is appropriate for the description of the subjects whose actions institute the phenomena both philosophers are interested in.  The more I think about this disagreement, the more difficulty I have getting a handle on exactly what’s at stake in it.  Moreover, as I’ve been arguing on the blog for some time now, I simply don’t accept Brandom’s disavowal (following Rorty, Ryle, etc.) of subjectivist, psychological categories.  So, as I’ve said before, I’m going to at least provisionally give myself permission to simply be mobile between these categories of metavocabulary.  This mobility between vocabularies which I’m granting myself may make everything that follows on the blog unacceptably sloppy, but it’s the approach I’m adopting, for better or worse.

Ok.  That’s all metaethical / metatheoretical context.  In the rest of the post I want to think aloud, within this framework, about what we’re doing when we engage in the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’.

Start in a naturalistic (as opposed to normative or subjectivist) subject naturalist mode.  In this mode we can think of reasons for action as motives for action, and motives for action as trackable in terms of counterfactual, modal dispositions.  So: I drank the liquid because I believed it was the antidote = Had I not believed it was the antidote, I would not have drunk the liquid.  There is a vast literature on the philosophy of action which studies this sort of thing, and I have barely scratched the surface, so the chance that I’m making elementary blunders in trying to think about all of this seems high, but so it goes.

This kind of crass modal dispositional analysis allows us to – again very crassly – articulate what’s going on when we talk in terms of the hermeneutics of suspicion or magnanimity.  The hero says they took an action because it benefited the general welfare.  The moral valet says the hero took an action because it brought the hero acclaim.  These are two different accounts of the motive in play, analysable in straight modal, causal, counterfactual terms.  Belabouring the point, we can construct two two-by-two matrices, each representing the available alternative scenarios – one capturing the hero’s account of the counterfactuals, the other capturing the moral valet’s.

Hero’s accountBrings acclaimDoes not bring acclaim
Benefits the general welfareUndertakes actionUndertakes action
Does not benefit the general welfareDoes not undertake actionDoes not undertake action
Valet’s accountBrings acclaimDoes not bring acclaim
Benefits the general welfareUndertakes actionDoes not undertake action
Does not benefit the general welfareUndertakes actionDoes not undertake action

These are clearly distinguishable accounts – but only under some possible worlds.  Only in worlds in which acclaim and the general welfare ‘come apart’, in one direction or the other, does the moral valet’s verifiable prediction of the hero’s actions differ from the hero’s own.  In our actual world, in which the hero undertook an action which both benefited the general welfare and brought them acclaim, our hero and valet are quarrelling over unobservable possibilities.

This is the first, most basic level of analysis I want to highlight: debates over the hermeneutics of suspicion as debates over ‘straightforward’ (ha ha) modal, dispositional properties.  

The next level comes in when we recognise that – for fallibilist reasons – it is always open to us to dispute what core disposition we observe, even in scenarios in which counterfactuals apparently come apart.  This is a form of scepticism familiar from the philosophy of science (and from critical science studies): we may be able to specify an experiment that would allow us to test a hypothesis, but any hypothesis is in principle maintainable if we are willing to come up with creative enough reasons to reject the findings of an apparently-disconfirmatory experiment.  Perhaps the experiment appeared to disconfirm our hypothesis because of measurement error, or some unobserved confounding factor, or whatever.  Moreover, this kind of thing is sometimes going to be correct. 

Along similar lines, in the moral sphere, the moral valet’s predictions may seem to be vindicated – but this cannot in itself be taken as dispositive evidence.  It’s always available to the hero’s defenders to say that the hero is acting to promote the general welfare, but the moral valet is wrong about what that welfare consists in, or the hero is playing some kind of long game, or reports of the hero’s perfidy are propagandistic lies, etc. etc.  I think it’s very easy to observe in practice that humans are endlessly resourceful in concocting such mitigating circumstances to excuse away the shameful actions of the individuals or groups they admire. And, once again, sometimes those excuses are correct.

In this kind of excuse-mongering there is often something like an Aristotelian essence/accident distinction invoked: the essence of a person is behaviour that may only be very intermittently observable, if at all, while actual behaviour is deviation from that essence.  Thus my best actions express my true self, while my frequent ignoble actions represent unfortunate deviations from my true, admirable essence.  By contrast, your ignoble actions represent your despicable true self, and your occasional noble actions represent irrelevant accidents.  This kind of ‘irregular verb’ distinction between underlying disposition-as-essence and incidental behaviour-as-accident provides limitless resources for pursuing ‘moral valet’ style debates even in scenarios where predictions would ex ante appear to be confirmable or disconfirmable. (This kind of thing is closely related to what social psychologists, following Ross, call the ‘fundamental attribution error’.)

Ok.  That’s the first two levels I’m interested in.  This is all then complicated by a third level: what humans are in themselves is partly determined by what they are for themselves, and what they are for themselves is partly determined by what they are for others.  Thus one reason one might magnanimously interpret a person’s actions is that such magnanimous interpretation makes available to that person a self-construal, via an offered recognitive circuit, in which they can interpret their own actions in light of (our understanding of) their own best self – and since such self-construals shape behaviour, this might shift the person’s behaviour such that, in the future, they really are that better self.  That’s an ‘interventionist’ argument against the moral valet’s analysis.

The fourth, final, and most complicated level is the same as level three, except with the ‘semantic externalist’ idea that what a person’s intentions even are, ‘originarily’ or ‘in themselves’, is retroactively constituted by their future social determination.  From this perspective, ‘reconstruing’ a person’s motives in a more magnanimous spirit doesn’t just psychologically make available a better future self – it actually transforms the semantic content of their own past intention in a more magnanimous spirit.  “The wounds of the Spirit heal, and leave no scars behind.”  In other words, this isn’t just an (as it were) moral tactic to nudge people towards their better selves, despite the truth of the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ perspective on their actions; the hermeneutics of suspicion is made incorrect – is made to have always been incorrect – by the retrospective magnanimous institution of the true (more noble) content of the agent’s practical intentions.

This last position is, I take it, the one that Hegel and Brandom are aiming for, in their retroactively redemptive historical community of Trust, and it presents the most thorough-going challenge to the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’.  I need to do more work in this space.  Nevertheless, I basically object in principle (for reasons that I’ve touched on before, on the blog) to any attempt to globally apply this category of argument against the hermeneutics of suspicion.  I’m interested in analysis of our social world – and, fundamentally, I think we just kid ourselves if we deny ourselves the resources of the hermeneutics of suspicion in carrying out that analysis.  What are the actual motives in play, in people’s actions?  Recognising that those motives are in some deep sense not fully determinate – nevertheless, that lack of full determinacy should not be taken as the basis for a global critique of ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ interpretive strategies.  In many practical contexts intentions are determinate enough to be usefully, albeit fallibly, analysed; and in many practical contexts the best available analysis of people’s intentions is going to be ‘suspicious’ rather than ‘magnanimous’.  I want to return to these themes in future posts – but I think any creditable analysis of social reality needs to have resources from the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ in its toolkit. And, moreover, I don’t think this should be seen as an ‘anti-scientific’ move.

Elster on Bourdieu

December 26, 2025

Ok.  I recent posts I have outlined my core metatheoretical apparatus: attitudes of approbation and disapprobation; imaginative inhabiting of others’ perspectives; introjection of others’ perspectives into one’s own; desire, including the desire for approbation; the emergence of all of this out of dispositions of practice.  Of course, it’s always possible that I’ll change my mind about any or all of this, but at this point my philosophical goal is to better nail down and explore this apparatus.

Lives could be spent exploring each of the items in this framework – but the item I want to focus on for the foreseeable is desire.  How should we understand desire?  Or (not necessarily the same thing – but I’m claiming more or less the same thing) how should we understand purposive action?

There are two paradigms in contemporary social science that I want to explore, in this regard.  On the one hand: the decision-theoretic apparatus that grounds contemporary economics.  On the other hand: social identity theory.  These are not obviously compatible paradigms.  Their incompatibility represents, as I see it, the major obstacle to my having an integrated metatheoretical apparatus, given my core commitments.  So one of the things I want to do on the blog is just worry away at the tension between these paradigms, in the hopes that I can find some way of reconciling them to my own satisfaction.

(Let me say, parenthetically, here, that were I to adopt the Brandomian apparatus wholesale these paradigms come, as it were, ‘pre-reconciled’.  It’s not how Brandom thinks of things, and it would require some tinkering with his framework, but I think it’s relatively clear how you could transform Brandom-Hegel’s “The I that is We, the We that is I” into a form of social identity theory.  And Brandom has an account of what rational choice theory is doing: it is a way of formalising instrumental practical reasoning, where instrumentalist desire-talk is to be understood in normative expressivist terms, by analogy with Brandom’s expressivist account of logic.  The problem, for me, is that this account of desire is (somewhat tacitly) premised on the eliminativism about subjectivist, psychological, mental categories which Brandom takes over from Rorty (and from Ryle, arguably from Sellars, etc.)  I reject that eliminativism.  Relatedly, I want the category of ‘desire’ to be an explanatory resource in our (‘subject naturalist’) social psychology, rather than simply something which our theory explains in terms of ‘fundamental pragmatist’ categories.  So I need a different philosophical account of desire from the one Brandom offers – and once we reject Brandom’s account of desire, we also, obviously, can no longer help ourselves to the way in which Brandom himself reconciles decision theory and social identity theory.)

All this is throat clearing and context setting.  The point of this post is just that I recently read Jon Elster’s 1983 book Sour Grapes.  This is a fantastic book – enormously rich, lucid, and insightful – I basically can’t recommend it highly enough.  It is also an early, influential foray into the theoretical space that would become behavioural economics.  Nevertheless, although I loved the book, I think Elster is wrong on two core issues.  First – although he discusses common, flawed forms of functionalism very insightfully, Elster is more sceptical of functionalist explanations than I believe is warranted.  Second – Elster is strongly, and by my lights unreasonably, committed to methodological individualism with respect to intentionality.  These two positions come together in Elster’s (by my lights badly flawed) critique of Bourdieu.  It’s this critique of Bourdieu which I want to (very quickly and sloppily) discuss in this post.

Elster discusses Bourdieu at more than one location in Sour Grapes – I’ll start with chapter II.10 – ‘The obsessional search for meaning’.  Here Elster is interested in the general problem: “when is it legitimate to explain a phenomenon in terms of its consequences?”  There are, broadly, two ways such a consequence explanation can operate: intentional and functional.  Intentional explanation sees some agent as intending a consequence, and engaging in an action with that consequence as its goal.  Functional explanation – at least, appropriately secular functional explanation – posits some selection mechanism such that phenomena that generate such-and-such a consequence will tend to have been selected for, and phenomena that do not generate that consequence will tend not to have been selected for.  Each of these legitimate modes of explanation, however, have accompanying illegitimate forms – positing intention or function where in fact there is none.  Here is Elster:

In everyday life – in politics, in the family or at the work-place – one constantly encounters the implicit assumption that any social or psychological phenomenon must have a meaning or significance that explains it: there must be some sense or some perspective in which it is beneficial for someone or something – and these benefits also explain the presence of the phenomenon. This way of thinking is wholly foreign to the idea that there could be such a thing as sound and fury in social life, unintended and accidental events that have no meaning whatsoever. It takes for given that although the tale may appear to be told by an idiot, there always exists a code that, if found, would enable us to decipher it. This attitude also pervades the more unthinking forms of functionalist sociology, some samples of which are given below. It is reinforced, or so I believe, by the widespread diffusion of psychoanalytic notions. Whenever ‘latent function’ will not provide the meaning of behaviour, ‘unconscious intention’ may serve as a substitute. And if neither succeeds, conspiracy theories can always be invoked. (102)

Part of Elster’s “no bullshit” approach to social science is his excoriatingly critical attitude to these faulty forms of intentional and functional explanation.  Panning back, Elster (non-exhaustively) identifies two broad strands of bogus meaning-explanation in the history of ideas.  First, there is theodicy – the idea that the world has been constructed such that even apparently meaningless and arbitrary phenomena, properly understood, exhibit a deeper meaning, thanks to the design or intervention of some divine force.  (Elster’s first book is on Leibniz and political economy, and I really ought to make time to read it.)  Second, there is the organicist functionalist form of explanation associated with evolutionary theory.  As Elster puts it:

When Darwin rooted biological adaptation firmly in causal analysis, he not only destroyed the theological tradition, but also provided a substitute… In forms sometimes crude and sometimes subtle, social scientists studied society as if the presumptions of adaptation and homeostasis were as valid there as in the animal realm. (103)

(Parenthetically, I feel Elster has the intellectual history wrong here – surely Darwin gave a legitimate secular explanatory grounding to some sub-variants of an organicist functionalism which was already rampant at the time Darwin was working. Anyway.)

Thus, even abandoning theodicy, social theory has tended to make much broader use of functionalist meaning-explanation – that is (as Elster is plausibly understanding the category) accounts which explain phenomena in terms of their consequences – than is actually justified.  Moreover, social theory can slip back and forth between functionalist and (often though not necessarily conspiracist) intentionalist modes of explanation – Elster argues (convincingly in my view) that systematic vagueness about what mechanism social theory has in mind for its meaning explanations allows this kind of mobility.

Fine.  I’m not doing a very good job re-presenting Elster’s arguments, but I’m basically on board with this so far.  Next, though, Elster gives two examples of bad social-theoretic analysis which mobilises meaning-explanation in a way that doesn’t appear to be warranted.  The first is Foucault – Elster quotes a long passage from Discipline and Punish, and argues that the passage exhibits a range of characteristic flaws:

(i) The consequence-explanation is suggested rather than explicitly stated… (ii) The explanation is suggested in a cascade of verbs without a corresponding subject… (iii) There is a presumption that the question Cui bono? is not only one of many that could usefully guide the investigation, but that it is somehow a privileged one. (iv) The suggested explanation on closer analysis emerges as sheer fantasy… (105)

Those sympathetic to Foucault will of course bristle at this critique.  For what it’s worth, I think Elster’s critique of Foucault broadly hits its target; Elster is being ungenerous, but I think Foucault is indeed often systematically hazy about what the explanatory or analytic status of his claims even is, and this is a weakness rather than a strength of Foucault’s approach.  Still, I’m not interested in the Foucault side of things in this post; I’m interested in Elster’s treatment of Bourdieu.

Elster turns to Bourdieu next – but his discussion in II.10 is in some ways more cursory than his discussion in II.5, which I’ll now move back to.  There Elster discusses Veblen, and presents Bourdieu as a “modern”, “more sophisticated” version of Veblen’s ‘leisure class’ thesis.  Elster criticises Veblen for suggesting that leisure class behaviour specifically has in mind the goal of impressing those outside the class: 

Though knowing little of the life-style of the leisured classes, I can hardly believe that they are concerned to impress those who have to work for a living. Rather they seem to have difficulties even in understanding that such people exist.. Veblen’s sociology of wealth completely misses the important point stressed by Veyne – the thoroughly narcissistic attitude of the wealthy. (69)

Bourdieu, unlike Velben, is aware that 

in many cases the lack of instrumental calculation is a condition for instrumentally defined success. He [Bourdieu] is also extremely sensitive to the nuances that distinguish the rich from the nouveaux riches, or the upper from the petty bourgeoisie. In both cases the former impress, the latter fail by trying. (69)

For these reasons Bourdieu is an upgrade on Veblen, for Elster.  Bourdieu is still, however, vulnerable to the same basic critique that Elster makes of Velben (and of a range of other figures).  The problem, for Elster, is that Bourdieu (Veblen, etc.) is mistaking outcomes that are essentially by-products for the object of intentional action.  Elster has a lengthy discussion of “states that are essentially by-products” (this is the topic of the entire long second chapter of the book) – his concluding discussion of the obsessional search for meaning is essentially a broad critique of our tendency to understand by-product states as the outcome of deliberate agency.  In the case of Bourdieu, Elster accepts that the drawing of cultural lines of class stratification is one of the outcomes of taste judgements – but he regards it as basically absurd, on Bourdieu’s part, to see this as the major goal or function of taste judgements.  Here is Elster:

Bourdieu is too aware of the fact that a conscious strategy of distinction can be self-defeating to fall into the trap that ensnared Veblen, yet he is unable to give a plausible account of what it means to adopt a non-conscious strategy. In one context he argues that violations of grammar can serve to exclude would-be intellectuals from higher culture, and then adds:  

Such strategies – which may be perfectly unconscious, and thereby even more effective – are the ultimate riposte to the hypercorrection strategies of pretentious outsiders, who are thrown into self-doubt about the rule and the right way to conform to it, paralysed by a reflexiveness which is the opposite of ease, and left without a leg to stand on.

It may well be true that the proneness of intellectuals to play around with language acts as a deterrent to those who think that culture is a question of following rules, but to conclude from this to an explanation of that proneness in terms of the deterrent effect is unwarranted. At the very least one would have to suggest a causal mechanism whereby this behaviour was maintained by these unintended and beneficial consequences. Similarly, although it is true that the way of life of the bourgeoisie is such that it is difficult for an outsider to pass for an insider, and equally true that this fact may be useful for the bourgeoisie, it takes an uncritical or hypersuspicious mind to conclude that this is why the bourgeoisie behave as they do. (70-71)

In this passage, I think I hit a fundamental difference in attitude from Elster, with respect to social psychology.  When I read Bourdieu, although I have some disagreements, I basically see him as insightfully describing real and familiar social-psychological dynamics.  Similarly, when I read Freud, although again there are many areas where I would not want to endorse Freud’s reasoning or conclusions, I see Freud as often insightfully describing very familiar features of psychology.

When Elster reads these figures, by contrast, he sees them as basically possessed by a hypertrophied desire to seek goal-oriented meaning in actions that possess no such meaning – at least, not the meaning attributed to them by the author in question.  Elster is, if anything, even more critical of Freud than he is of Bourdieu – in a later (by my lights quite weak) section of the book he does his very best to eliminate the category of “self-deception” altogether:

I believe that the substitution of wishful thinking for self-deception is a first step towards the elimination of the Freudian unconscious as a theoretical entity – a highly desirable goal. (153)

I simply disagree with Elster that this is a desirable goal.  I see Freud- and Bourdieu-style analysis of the psychodynamics implicit within behaviour that has a very different manifest goal as basically an essential resource for making sense of human behaviour – I can barely even begin to imagine what it would be like to navigate the world without having this kind of analysis in my toolkit.  This is, in my view, a very fundamental disagreement between Elster and myself.

This disagreement operates along two dimensions.  First, there is the dimension of the divided self – it is core to the Freudian-Bourdieuian approach that there are intentional elements of self that are not fully accessible to the self’s self-understanding.  Second, there is the dimension of collective intentionality – it is core to the Bourdieuian (and I would argue psychoanalytic, but there is at least room for dispute there) approach that the self is constituted by its identification with a collective practice.  In this second respect, Bourdieu’s Distinction can usefully be seen, I think, as making an argument that is a special case of social identity theory.  And seeing things through this latter lens, I think, helps illuminate the disagreement with Elster.

Elster is a committed methodological individualist – he can therefore only interpret the argument of Distinction in something like the following terms: the individual agent is deliberately attempting to position themselves in a status hierarchy by engaging in actions that have that positioning as their direct intentional goal.  There then follows the disagreement about whether such goals can be unconscious (or tacit).  If we think of things through a more social identity theory lens, by contrast, intentionality is itself constituted by the individual’s identification with a group – the in-group/out-group boundary that distinction-mongering is creating and policing is therefore not just enacted by strategic intentional acts that have the maintenance of that boundary as their goal; the group boundary itself contributes to the constitution of the individual-level intentionality which maintains the boundary.  I, as a member of a group, have my identity – that is, my intentional self – shaped by my membership of the group; my identity (a precondition of intentionality) is constituted by my goal of adherence to group norms.  Thus, although both explicit-to-self and unconscious strategic action is an important element of Bourdieu’s explanatory approach, Bourdieu has available the idea that intentions are shaped by group identity just as much as group structure is shaped by intentions – and thus there is an available account of the relationship between taste judgements and group membership which does not obviously fall on either side of Elster’s distinction between (on the one hand) strategic action which has social positioning as its goal, and (on the other hand) actions which have social positioning as simply a “by-product”.

I’m not being very articulate here – I need to do a lot more reading and thinking in this space.  In a previous post – on ‘Regimes of incompatibility’ – I think I did an acceptable job of articulating some ideas in this space within the idiom of the post-Rortyan pragmatist tradition.  If I were happy to endorse Rortyan-Brandomian eliminativism about subjectivist categories, the framework of that Regimes of incompatibility post would give me everything I need to articulate my disagreement with Elster.  However, as I said (parenthetically) earlier, I’m not happy to accept that eliminativism – I’m after an apparatus that gives talk of desire an explanatory, not just an explicitative, role.  So, I need to go beyond the wholly “sanctions-based” apparatus of that Regimes of incompatibility post.

In this post I’m really just flailing around in the theoretical space that such an account would have to occupy.  I think these passages in Elster, though, bring into very sharp focus one criterion of adequacy of the kind of account I’m after.  Elster is insightful and brilliant on “adaptive” (and maladaptive) preferences – the idea that the preference function of the individual social actor is influenced by their social environment, in a way that causes problems for any “exogenous preferences” welfare economics – there is a large research programme that follows from this insight.  By contrast, Elster is very flat-footed and/or completely hostile when it comes to two ‘deeper’ challenges to methodological individualism: on the one hand, the divided self which can have unconscious or implicit preferences which conflict with conscious or explicit commitments; on the other hand, the idea that preferences are socially shaped not in the sense of individual preferences being responsive to the social environment but in the (apparently) deeper sense captured by social identity theory.  Again, this is the theoretical terrain I want to flail around in for the foreseeable.

Recognitive circuits

December 19, 2025

Ok.  In recent posts I’ve articulated what I take to be the core of my basic metatheoretical framework.  My explanatory resources are: attitudes of approbation and disapprobation; circuits of recognition, constituted by imaginative inhabiting of other perspectives and by attitudes of approbation (in recognition you grant another’s attitudes authority over you by your own attitudes of approbation); desire, especially the desire to be the object of recognition / approbation by those you recognise.  That’s the basic set of resources.

In this post I want to highlight a few ways in which different kinds of recognitive circuits can be constructed.  First, there is the nature of what is recognised in the object of recognition.  Second, there is the question of what dimensions of self are recognised.  Finally, there is the scope of the recognitive circuit: who falls within it.

Take these in order, starting with the question of what is recognised.  We can recognise people in lots of different ways.  For example: I can recognise someone as an expert in one field, but regard them as an ignoramus in another.  In this way I grant them authority in one recognitive dimension but do not grant them authority in another.  Similarly, we can bundle out rights and obligations in different ways – legal institutions might grant somebody the right to own property but not the right to vote.  These are different normative statuses instituted by the recognitive networks in question.

If we take social actors or agents as unitary then there are no further questions about which dimensions of self are recognised.  If, though, we assume a divided self, then we can move on to the second point itemised above: recognising some dimensions of self and not others.  This is what’s going on in psychoanalytic style ‘symptomatic’ interpretations of action: the interpreter claims to recognise dimensions of self that the agent themselves refuses to recognise.  Here we can (if we wish) say that we recognise a person’s ‘true’ self, even if the person in question does not recognise this recognition as recognition.  This same structural claim is also present in all forms of paternalism: the idea of paternalism is that the paternalistic party knows what’s better for the agent than does the agent themselves.  The ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ and political-ethical paternalism in this sense share a common structure.

Finally, we can also construct recognitive circuits to include whichever agents we choose.  To use Brandom’s favourite example, we can choose to define ‘good chess players’ as decent local club players, or as masters, or grandmasters – the domain or scope of any given recognitive circle is within our power of choice.

Ok.  Now.  I want to say that this very simple apparatus can help us to usefully typologise a whole bunch of stuff.  We can think about individual people’s psychologies in this way – who do they recognise along what dimensions and how?  We can also typologise political and ethical ideologies using this apparatus.  Different political philosophies can be understood in terms of the different recognitive circuits they advocate. 

Some examples.  Clearly Schmitt (the Nazi political philosopher), with his Friend/Enemy distinction, has a strong view about appropriate recognitive networks: he thinks that we ought to have a bounded in-group defined by its exclusion of and hostility to an out-group.  From a very different place on the political spectrum, Lukács also thinks something like this, about classes understood in terms of Hegelian class consciousness.  Lukács of course articulates his politics in Hegelian terms, and his proletarian class consciousness gestures towards the absolute – but he is still making a specific recognitive recommendation that can usefully be understood in in-group out-group terms.

Moving into more liberal political spaces.  Utilitarianism is a paradigmatic paternalistic framework in the following sense: it has a very broad recognitive circuit, but what is recognised in that broad circuit is only pleasure and pain; the actual judgements or values of the creatures in question are not recognised.  Instead, the judgements of the utilitarian are constituted by a much narrower recognitive circuit (for example, a technocratic class).  A more rights-based liberalism again has a (potentially) very broad recognitive circuit across which basic rights are recognised; but of course many other attitudes can be refused recognition across that same circuit – again, a much narrower circuit may constitute the judgements from which the ideology of universal rights emerges.  (To say this is not necessarily to criticise these ideologies; it’s just a remark about their recognitive basis.)  Social contract theory is grounded in the idea that all members of a society ought to participate in the constitution of the norms that shape the society – this is a broad recognitive structure.  But social contract theory then has to wrestle with the problem of people who refuse to participate in the relevant ‘contractual’ recognitive relation.  One common response to that problem (which itself comes in different flavours) is a paternalistic judgement that people are really endorsing a contract, at some basic level, even if they deny it – an argument that relies on partial recognition of a (purportedly) divided self.

The broad recognitive circuits (of basic human rights, or of morally weighty pain and pleasure) associated with these more liberal philosophical positions can, of course, be more or less broad.  Charles Mills’ critique of ‘actually existing liberalism’, in The Racial Contract, is based on the idea that the recognitive circuit of ‘humanity’, which shapes liberal political theory, is in fact sharply delimited along in-group and out-group lines, with most of humanity excluded from the charmed circle of liberal rights and privileges. The feminist theorists Mills is drawing on (such as Carole Pateman) make similar arguments about gender.

And so on and so forth – the basic point I want to make is just that this recognitive apparatus is capable of articulating a large number of different political-ethical positions.

I take it that this project – the project of articulating different philosophical positions in terms of different recognitive dynamics – is what Hegel is up to for much of the Phenomenology.  Hegel thinks that he can tell a progressive narrative in which each recognitive stance addresses a shortcoming of the previous one, until we march all the way to Absolute Knowing.  I’m very sceptical about this, and I don’t have any ambitions in that regard.  I don’t think we can or really should defend any of these recognitive recommendations at a metatheoretical level, using metatheoretical arguments.  I think this recognitive metatheoretical apparatus just gives us a way to – with some crowbarring – get quite different political-ethical philosophical systems ‘talking the same language’.  Then the question of which of these various recognitive stances is the best one is a more ‘first order’ political-ethical question, to be argued through at the ‘messy retail business’ level of political-ethical theorising.

Obviously at one level this is all very basic.  Still, I find thinking about things in this very loosely Hegelian, recognitive social psychological way very helpful indeed.  I want this to be my basic orientation, going forward.

Ok.  I think this recent post – on ‘The force of the better reason as desire’ – articulated as clearly as I have done yet what I’m trying to do in my veering away from Brandom.  That is: I’m trying to reverse the Brandomian explanatory order between ‘the force of the better reason’ and ‘desire’.  Brandom explains desire on the model of his expressivist account of logic: desire-talk expresses the norms implicit in instrumental practical reasoning.  Understanding desire, for Brandom, then, is a special case of understanding norms in general – and norms in general are understood as instituted by the social practice of giving and asking for reasons.  The motivational dimension of this social practice, in turn, is explained in terms of our vulnerability to the “peculiar force of the better reason”.  For Brandom, then, our vulnerability to the force of the better reason is an ‘unexplained explainer’.  By contrast, I want to see our vulnerability to the force of the better reason as a subcategory of the motivating power of desire.  Specifically: we desire the approbation of others.  The force of the better reason can be construed simply as desiring the approbation of an appropriately idealised other, in ‘ideal observer theory’ terms.  This is my basic metatheoretical orientation, at this point.  Adam Smith-style ideal observer theory is here carrying basically all the metaethical weight of distinguishing my ‘desire first’ explanatory approach from wholly cynical or ‘nihilistic’ approaches that people typically take themselves to be criticising when they criticise the hermeneutics of suspicion.  But I think Adam Smith-style ideal observer theory is capable of bearing that weight.

My metatheoretical approach is therefore fundamentally ‘desire first’.  That is to say: I want to explain reasons in terms of desires, rather than the other way around.  This commitment to a ‘desire first’ approach does, however, need some caveating.  Specifically, I am also still committed to the Brandomian (Rylean, etc.) pragmatist approach of explaining “knowing that” in terms of “knowing how” – what Brandom calls ‘fundamental pragmatism’.  Brandom, like most pragmatists, sees explicit conceptual content as (so to speak) emerging out of and floating upon a vast sea of non-explicitated practices – in the language of Making It Explicit, Brandom’s is an ‘anti-regulist’ approach.  I still endorse this orientation.  One question my ‘desire first’ approach needs to address, then, is how desire relates to non-explicitated and presumably often non-conscious practice.  I put this question aside for another day. 

Anyway, with this broad orientation in hand, I think it’s possible to make a lot of relatively straightforward analytic sense of the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’.  The hermeneutics of suspicion (paradigmatically in its Freudian form) has often been the object of critique because it has seemed to replace reason with desire.  You think you are behaving rationally (the hermeneutics of suspicion says), but actually you are driven not by reason but by base desires.  The metatheoretical approach I’m advocating essentially dissolves this opposition: of course purportedly rational modes of cognition and action are driven by desire, because basically all human behaviour is driven by desire: reasons in general can be analysed in terms of desire.  On the approach I’m advocating the opposition between reason and desire becomes a distinction within the social-psychological economy of desire between desires towards which we direct a specific category of approbation, and desires towards which we do not.

From this metatheoretical perspective, then, the hermeneutics of suspicion is characterised not by the replacement of reason with desire, but by the analysis of the desires implicit in (or motivating) actions as being different from the desires that the agent in question claims as implicit in (or motivating) their actions.  This formulation also requires some nuancing, which I’m not going to attempt here, but that’s the basic idea.  You claim to be motivated by the good of the nation (say), but actually you are motivated only by a desire for fame and wealth (say).  On the approach I’m advocating, the purportedly non-desire-based “good of the nation” side of this opposition can be reconstrued as explicitatable or justifiable in terms of the desire to be the object of approbation of an ideal observer or ‘judge within the breast’ – so both sides of the opposition are motivated by recognitive desire.  The distinction between the two sides of the opposition then resolves into the analysis of the structure of the relevant desiring recognitive circuits.

This analysis can in turn be reconstrued descriptively in terms of counterfactual scenarios.  If someone is truly strongly motivated by the desire to do such-and-such a deed (we would reconstrue this: motivated by the judge within the chest’s judgement concerning the deed) they would carry out the deed independently of the views of those around them.  On the other hand, if they are simply motivated by the views of those around them, and those around them believe the deed is a good one, then if those others were to change their views, the agent’s actions would also change.  It may not be possible to ‘test’ this counterfactual – but this is the kind of claim that people are making when they talk about ‘real motives’, I think.

So, when the Hegelian moral valet suggests that the hero’s noble actions are motivated only by ambition (say), this is a claim about the counterfactual recognitive conditions under which the deed would be carried out.  If the hero’s defenders suggest that the hero is motivated purely by virtue (we would reconstrue: by the judge within the breast’s judgements, etc.) this is an alternative claim about counterfactual recognitive conditions.  Both claims can’t be true – though it may not be possible to distinguish between them in any actual timeline.  (As usual, there are some significant subtleties here about the relationship between attributions of norms and modal descriptive predictions – but I’m deliberately ignoring those subtleties as part of my current ‘crassly subject naturalist’ methodological approach.)

When we assess a person’s character, what we’re doing, I take it, is using small clues in behaviour as the basis for inferences about these large counterfactual questions concerning the recognitive circuits that underwrite the implicit normative content of dispositions (or just desires ‘neat’).  The ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ systematically makes ‘ungenerous’ judgements on these counterfactual questions.  Interpretive generosity, the reverse.

So this is my basic framework.  Put like that it’s in a sense quite simple and straightforward (though maybe more so in my own head than on the page…).  Nevertheless.  This is the terrain I want to be exploring on the blog going forward.

Again largely repeating myself, I want to extremely quickly typologise different degrees of social involvement in the preferences that guide action.  I’m obviously working within a Humean / decision-theoretic framework here, I’m initially taking that as read for purposes of this post.

First level: pure ‘Robinson Crusoe’ individual, autarkic specification of preferences leading to autarkic action decisions.  This is what you’ve got in entirely individual-level decision theory.  

Second level: wholly individually determined, autarkic preferences but action decisions depend on the actions of others because agents inhabit a strategic situation – this is basic game theory.

Third level: individually determined preferences, but those preferences incorporate others’ preferences or actions – for example, an agent desires another agent’s happiness, or misery – these are other-oriented preferences.

Fourth level: socially determined preferences – the agent’s first-order preferences are formed by the social environment.  (This is, I think, distinguishable from other-oriented preferences: my desire for you to be happy [third level] is different from the cultural inculcation of desires which may not themselves be other-oriented [fourth level].)

Fifth level: combinations of the previous levels – e.g. the formation via socialisation of other-oriented desires within a strategic situation, etc.

Sixth level: socially determined intentionality – not just the agent’s preference set, but the very possibility of preferences as such, is formed by social action.

This sixth level – the social determination of intentionality in general – is the level at which neopragmatism operates.  The neopragmatism I’m most interested in – i.e. Brandom – is convinced that accepting this sixth level implies the rejection of the instrumental framework adopted by the decision-theoretic approaches within which I’ve articulated the earlier levels.  I’m not so sure.

For better or worse, it seems to me that one of the problems I’m wrestling with here is how to relate these different levels of analysis.  The first three levels of analysis are extremely well developed in decision and game theory.  The sixth level is what Brandom and Hegel have in their sights.  The fourth level – the social determination of preferences, falling short of the social determination of intentionality as such, is murkier to me.

Anyway I have a lot of reading to do, as always.

In my previous post I distinguished three different attitudes we might take in the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’.  These were: 1) we might take it that somebody is simply lying about their intentions; 2) we might take it that somebody is deceiving themselves about their own intentions (through suppression or denial formations, for example); 3) we might take it that somebody is not aware of the content of their own intentions, because that content “just ain’t in the head” – because, that is, we endorse some kind of externalist semantics, or externalist account of mental content.

In other posts, separately, I have distinguished different things one might mean by ‘methodological individualism’.  These include: 1) the idea that intentions can only properly be attributed to (let’s say) human individuals; any attribution of goals, etc., to other entities (states, say, or corporations, or classes) are metaphoric, and in some sense therefore methodologically improper; 2) the idea that intentions are always in some sense ‘self-interested’; 3) the idea that intentions themselves can be fully adequately specified at the level of the individual agent (at whatever scale of agent) – that is to say, intentions are not socially instituted.  I take it that mainstream decision theory can relatively easily accommodate the abandonment of methodological individualisms (1) and (2).  The real problem for mainstream decision theory is commitment (3).  And, non-coincidentally, this is the same basic commitment as internalist semantics.  The difficult problems in the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ and in the debates over methodological individualism therefore boil down to the same core set of issues around the ‘internalist’ versus ‘externalist’ specification of mental content, or intentionality.

When I consult summaries of the debates around externalist semantics or externalism about mental content (for example, in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy) they typically distinguish two different lines of argument for semantic externalism.  On the one hand, there are arguments deriving from Hilary Putnam’s ‘Twin Earth’ thought experiments; these arguments rely on the idea that attitude-independent facts are partly constitutive of the meaning of our claims and thoughts – for example, the idea that what ‘water’ means is partly determined by what the thing we refer to as ‘water’ actually is, whether or not we know what it is.  On the other hand, there are arguments derived from Tyler Burge’s thought experiments (around the meaning of ‘arthritis’, for example); these arguments rely on the idea that community usage or practice determines the meaning of our claims and thoughts, and the relevant dimensions of community practice may fall wholly outside the psychological life of the individual.  These are, roughly, arguments from mind-independent natural phenomena, and arguments from individual-independent community attitudes.

I endorse a social-perspectivalist pragmatist account of truth, including of scientific truth – something in the space of Peirce’s ‘ideal observer’ theory of objectivity.  From my philosophical perspective, then, Putnam-style ‘physicalist’ arguments can be reworked in a social-perspectival idiom.  In other words, I take it that Putnam-style object-dependent semantic externalism can ultimately be ‘reduced’ to Burge-style social-perspective-dependent semantic externalism.

From my point of view, then, the ‘hard cases’ in both the hermeneutics of suspicion and the debates around methodological individualism come down to the following question: how do we ‘cash out’ social-perspectival semantic externalism (or, perhaps more broadly, social-perspectival externalism around mental content)?

Burge opens his article ‘Individualism and the Mental’, in which he lays out his community-focused account of mental content externalism, by referencing Hegel:

Since Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, a broad, inarticulate division of emphasis between the individual and his social environment has marked philosophical discussions of mind.  On one hand, there is the traditional concern with the individual subject of mental states and events…  On the other hand, there is the Hegelian preoccupation with the role of social institutions in shaping the individual and the content of his thought. This tradition has dominated the continent since Hegel.  But it has found echoes in English-speaking philosophy during this century in the form of a concentration on language. Much philosophical work on language and mind has been in the interests of Cartesian or behaviorist viewpoints that I shall term “individualistic.” But many of Wittgenstein’s remarks about mental representation point up a social orientation that is discernible from his flirtations with behaviorism. (73)

Burge laments the relative unclarity of the traditions focused on social environment explanations of mental content:

Philosophical discussions of social factors have tended to be obscure, evocative, metaphorical, or platitudinous, or to be bent on establishing some large thesis about the course of history and the destiny of man. There remains much room for sharp delineation. (73-4)

Burge takes his work to be a contribution to this project of clarifying the tradition that gives social-theoretic externalist accounts of mental content.

Brandom’s work is also a contribution to this project – A Spirit of Trust is surely the most impressive effort to rework or rearticulate Hegel’s externalism about mental content in a way that makes contact with the resources of the analytic tradition, bringing “sharp delineation” to that Hegelian and post-Hegelian project.

Brandom doesn’t discuss Burge much, to my knowledge – and when he does so, he is typically critical.  I haven’t read much Burge yet, and I don’t understand the points of similarity and difference between Burge and Brandom’s projects.  I do, though, at this point, have relatively well-developed views on many elements of Brandom’s project – what I endorse and what I reject.  I endorse the pragmatism, the social-perspectivalism, the inferentialism, and the semantic externalism; I reject Brandom’s rejection of ‘instrumentalism’ in the philosophy of action, as well as his linguistic exceptionalism and his eliminativism about the mental.

What this means, in effect, is that I’m casting around for ways to explore the social-perspectival externalism about mental content that Brandom articulates which do not require the additional commitments I find problematic in Brandom’s project.  In other words, I need to read more in this broader ‘externalism about mental content’ theoretical tradition.  Burge seems like a good place to start!

Three forms of suspicion

December 8, 2025

Once again covering ground I’ve already covered on the blog, but maybe inching forward… in this post I want to talk about three different forms the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ can take. That is: let’s say we take it for granted that a person’s ‘real’ intentions aren’t the same as their stated intentions – this could relate either to their beliefs (the epistemic side of things) or their goals (the practical side of things). We’re interpreting the person’s intentions in a way that directly contradicts their own stated account of their intentions. What, exactly, are we doing when we engage in this kind of ‘suspicious’ hermeneutics?

I want to say that there are three available models for this kind of suspicious hermeneutics.

  1. We can claim that the person is simply lying to us about their intentions. They know, ‘internally’, what their real thoughts and goals are, and they are deliberately misleading us on this matter.
  2. We can claim that the person is lying to themselves about their intentions. They legitimately believe that their intention is such-and-such but we, the observers, know the person better than they know themselves. Most of psychoanalysis occupies this explanatory space, for example.
  3. We can claim that the person is structurally unaware of the content of their intentions, on the grounds that the content of their intentions simply isn’t part of their psychological internality, either consciously or unconsciously. This is kind of position follows from the idea that “meaning just ain’t in the head.”

These are very different versions of the hermeneutics of suspicion. Moreover, when people disagree about which of these three registers an attribution of intention should occupy, there are two different categories of disagreement that can be in play. On the one hand, there is empirical disagreement over which ‘model’ is best suited to analysing some specific person’s intention. Is this specific person lying to us about their goals, or are they lying to themselves about their goals, or are they simply unaware of the meaning of their actions? On the other hand, there is philosophical disagreement over what our basic theory of mind should be, which in turn has implications for which of these three models we treat as the explanatory default. Some people, for example, deny the very coherence of the concept of unconscious intention; there are fierce debates over semantic ‘internalism’ and ‘externalism’ in the philosophy of mind, and so on.

In my view this is an area where philosophy of mind – or at least a set of issues that, within philosophy, is treated by philosophy of mind – is very relevant to day-to-day debate. I constantly see arguments in the public sphere where disagreements over how to interpret somebody’s intentions are also, at least in part, implicitly debates over the best default model of intentionality. Likewise, one constantly sees arguments that are mobile across these three different kinds of hermeneutic suspicion, as if establishing one also establishes conclusions that can be drawn from the others. (And maybe that kind of inference is even legitimate, depending on one’s model of intentionality!)

The worry here – or the suspicion – is that these three ways of attributing intention are not, in fact, clearly distinguishable in practice. Anyway, I feel like I need to do more reading in the philosophy of mind, to try to get a bit clearer on these issues.

Hegel and Stoicism

December 7, 2025

In the shift, in the Phenomenology, from ‘Consciousness’ to ‘Self-Consciousness’ Hegel embeds his epistemological and semantic projects within a social-psychological project.  From this point onward, everything Hegel discusses is going to be mediated via the analysis of desire, and, specifically, the desire for recognition.  Hegel starts that project with his famous ‘Master-Slave’ dialectic, which analyses the desire for recognition in terms of the categories of independence and dependence.  Then, once he has set the stage with this section, he discusses three paradigmatic forms of failed relation between independence and dependence: Stoicism, Scepticism, and the Unhappy Consciousness.

In A Spirit of Trust, Brandom discusses Hegel’s treatment of Stoicism and Scepticism in the following way:

His allegorical Stoic and Skeptic understand themselves as purely independent in the sense of Mastery, but their mastery is taken to be exercised over the objects of thought rather than over its subjects. They both mistake the freedom of thought for a sort of constitutive authority over things, in virtue of which the thinker is wholly independent and the things are wholly dependent upon it. (352)

For Brandom, the failures of Stoicism and Skepticism are, most fundamentally, semantic failures.  Stoicism and Skepticism cannot coherently claim the degree of independence of subject from object that they desire while having contentful thoughts at all, because the content of the thoughts is constituted by the authority the object has over the subject.  In Brandom’s words (concerning Stoicism):

The Stoic idea is that because consciousness has sovereign authority over what things are for it, the distinction between that and what things are in themselves can be enforced by experience only insofar as consciousness permits it to do so. Its strategy is to refuse that permission, adopting an attitude it takes to be immediately and transparently constitutive. But not allowing itself to be normatively compelled by incompatibilities in acknowledging error is fatal to the institution of determinate conceptual content. (353)

Brandom’s treatment of these passages (and of the Phenomenology as a whole) in semantic terms is, in my view, illuminating, insightful, and surely captures the (at a minimum, a) core element of Hegel’s project.  My own reading of Hegel is flat-footed, relative to Brandom’s.  Nevertheless, I claim that because Brandom’s pragmatist semantics is specifically anti-instrumentalist or anti-Humean – because, that is to say, Brandom does not give any core explanatory role to the category of desire – Brandom misses much of the social-psychological dimension of Hegel’s argument.  I want to be very ‘vulgar’, then, and say that Hegel is, at this point, sort of taking it for granted that semantic conclusions ‘fall out of’ social-psychological analysis – and I want to lean on that approach to just think about the social psychology, rather than the semantics.

What Hegel is objecting to in Stoicism, then, is the idea that we can simply choose to withhold our assent from the meaning of our experience.  Hegel’s argument is that to have experience at all is to grant that experience authority over us – to make ourselves vulnerable to the experience.  Brandom’s Hegel is interested in this claim as a semantic point – we cannot enjoy semantic independence without a corollary element of semantic dependence, otherwise there is no semantic content available to the putatively independent subject.  For Hegel – and the Stoics – though, this is (of course) not just a semantic point.  Stoicism is a general philosophical orientation, covering the entire domain of philosophical topics.  But, centrally, it is an ethical philosophy, a guide to good living, and the attitude with which the Stoics are most strongly associated – the ability to withstand suffering and sorrows by refusing to grant them power over one’s true self – is, fundamentally, an ethical-psychological doctrine, rather than a semantic one.  The core Stoic advice is to withdraw your valuation from the world around you, which you do not control, and to care only about the proper actions that one can control, one’s own self.  As Epictetus puts it: “It is impossible that that which is by nature free should be disturbed or impeded by anything other than itself.” (Discourses, pg. 44)  This is an argument about, in the Freudian vocabulary, cathexis: do not permit one’s substance to be bound up in the world around you; instead care only about the things that fall within your power.  In Hegel’s gloss:

whether on the throne or in chains, in the utter dependence of its individual existence, its aim is to be free, and to maintain that lifeless indifference which steadfastly withdraws from the bustle of existence, alike from being active as passive, into the simple essentiality of thought. (199, pg. 121)

The Hegelian counter to this Stoic argument is as follows: because actions are socially constituted ‘all the way down’, there is no core of self to which one can withdraw one’s valuation that is not already ‘contaminated’ by the social other.  The Stoic dream of ‘pure independence’ is, for this reason, a pipe dream: to the extent that the Stoic cares about anything at all, they care about something that escapes their control.  And, moreover, we cannot not care, because “self-consciousness is Desire in general” (105).

The Hegelian argument is therefore an argument in both semantics and the philosophy of action: there is no meaning that is not socially determined by perspectives other than one’s own; there is no action that does not derive its character from potentially unintended consequences.  But these twinned arguments in semantics and the philosophy of action are (from my perspective) still more ‘fundamentally’ psychological arguments: the self is always a desiring self, and desire – cathexis – is always bound up in something beyond the self, which the self cannot control.

Now – the point I wanted to make in this post is the following.  If we think of things in this way, and if we follow Brandom’s argument about the destination of the Phenomenology as advocating a globally, reciprocally forgiving and trusting community, then Stoicism begins an arc in the narrative of the Phenomenology which concludes with this utopian form of social arrangement in which all take responsibility for all.  The Stoics represent one pole – refusing responsibility for anything other than their own actions, and correspondingly refusing to grant experience any power over their true selves.  The global community of responsibility imagined as ‘Absolute Knowing’ is the other pole of this spectrum: everyone is responsible for everything.

It seems pretty clear (or, at least, pretty intuitive) to me, for what it’s worth, that both of these poles are unacceptable.  Surely Hegel is correct that you can’t fully refuse the world power over you, in the way the Stoics wish.  But, equally, the idea that we somehow ought to assume responsibility for everything out there – somehow expanding the boundaries of the self to encompass the cosmos – seems ridiculous.  It seems to me that the question is rather: which elements of the world should you value, or cathect, and which should you not?  We are constantly making these calls in practice – making and remaking our sense of ourselves, by virtue of our choices over what to cathect.  Of course, for Hegel, what characterises us as spiritual beings is the fact that what we are in ourselves is determined in part by what we are for ourselves – so remaking our sense of ourselves is also remaking our selves: we are what we value.

The social psychology of the Phenomenology, then, takes place between these two poles: on the one hand, the effort to cathect nothing; on the other hand, the effort to cathect everything.  If we take it that neither of these projects is viable, the real work of analysis begins: tracking the ways in which people choose to cathect their social worlds differently, and thereby make different selves.

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