Thursday, May 28, 2009

I believe there is a weakness in the modern mind, and by modern I mean anything post renaissance. It is the resolution of action into two binary categories: those that are prescribed through rational principles, and those that are merely a matter of preference. So, for example, if I can't 'prove' my point in some discursive way, then I am merely stating my 'opinion', which carries no more weight than the opinion of any other person.
Obviously, I think this is false. I think a third option exists, which is a faculty capable of development that renders judgment and provides insight, and which is just as valid as rational principles, yet cannot be explained by them. Aristotle articulated it beautifully and called it φρόνησις, transliterated as "phronesis". Translators have used the words 'prudence' or 'practical wisdom' for φρόνησις, but I think they miss the mark. This faculty is something more than these things. Consider this analogy--jurisprudence:a judge::φρόνησις:a human in the capacity of a moral being. That makes more sense to me.
How would we know who has a more developed φρόνησις? Again, it's difficult to provide a calculus, but that doesn't undermine its reality. How would we be able to tell the difference between George Bush and Cato, both of whom used their "gut", or some equivalent concept, to justify their decisions? This is simply a matter of cultivation. The cultivated person will be able to tell that one is garbage and the other isn't.
This will be a tangent, but it makes me think of the demands we place on understanding. There is an expectation that a person should be able to string together a series of words and communicate any understanding--I think this is false. So, for example, if someone says, "tell me what makes the Odyssey a great book", it is an inherently impossible request, yet I firmly believe that the Odyssey is a great book. I think the request is absurd because a string of words attempting to convey the greatness will fail; in order to understand the greatness, you must read the work itself, many times preferably, contemplate it (not just think about it), talk about it, imagine it, and turn it over many different ways in your mind, and then one day, maybe prompted by a certain event, the whole thing explodes into color, and then you realize why it was great.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

New posts coming soon.