Bogost and I had an interesting phone conversation last night concerning the role that concrete practices play in philosophy. One of the running themes here at Larval Subjects has been the tendency of philosophers and theorists in the humanities to propositionalize everything in their posing of philosophical questions. Everything becomes a matter of signs, propositions, representations, texts, and contents. However, what role do practices play in philosophy? This role, if it is indeed crucial, would tend to disappear in philosophical texts, leaving only subterranean traces of nonhuman encounters– perhaps what Deleuze would call “becoming-x’s” –that deeply influence the form a philosophy takes.
Putting this in less abstract terms, we could ask what role lens grinding played in Spinoza’s philosophy. Was Spinoza’s lens grinding a tangential activity outside his thought that he simply engaged in to make money, or was it central to the formation of his philosophy? Similarly, what of Leibniz’s many works in engineering, formations of library catalogs, etc? In Bogost’s case, what role has computer programming played in his thought? What role has being a musician and a part of various bands played in Cogburn’s thought? We could also ask what role his gaming has played in his thought. In my own case, what role has cooking, gardening, clinical practice, and playing simulators played in my own thought? What role has activist work played in the thought of Badiou? Likewise with Foucault’s various forms of political engagement and practices. How did Lacan’s clinical practice inform his thought?
The point here would be that these sorts of practices are not simply outside or secondary to philosophy, but rather problematize the world in such a way as to call for new metaphysics and epistemologies. In these sorts of practices we discover a real of the world, a sort of resistance of the real, that calls for forms of thought that can’t be reduced to the propositional. We can then ask ourselves the question, “what would an experimental metaphysics look like?” It’s likely that pedagogy and conferences would look very different were we to practice experimental metaphysics. For example, conferences would not simply consist in the presentation of papers and the discussion of texts. Rather, conferences would also involve all sorts of experimental activities where the participants could engage in alien matters, strange strangers, to discover the powers that reside within them. Perhaps we would toy around with environmental and social simulators to discover how different patterns emerge based on certain actions. Perhaps we would learn a bit of simple programming. Perhaps we would do a little cooking. Perhaps we would do a little topology with construction paper and scissors, or discover odd properties of knots with bits of string. Maybe we would play about with algorithms to see what complex patterns emerge from simple rules. Similarly, it seems to me that theory conferences should also be melded with the arts, containing exhibits and performance art presentations. I don’t know. The point would be to engage with something other than representations, signs, and texts to encounter a bit of the real that’s irreducible to these things and far from being a passive matter over which the net of thought is thrown.
August 11, 2010 at 1:52 pm
I heard a philosopher / motorcycle mechanic on the radio a few weeks back. He suggets that the division of knowledge and practical work has devalued both … I haven’t read his book, but it sounded interesting. I think this is he: http://www.matthewbcrawford.com/
August 11, 2010 at 2:10 pm
This is an EXCELLENT idea. I want to propose it to the graduate committee here. I’ve been thinking of how to integrate Ian’s and Scu’s insights about non-language requirements for Ph.D. students. This could be it.
August 11, 2010 at 2:30 pm
try this:
http://www.thoreauhouse.org
August 11, 2010 at 3:07 pm
Sounds to me a little like a secular monasticism in which hands and head are integrated. The Mennonite church has a saying, “Work and worship are one,” perhaps Work and word are also one. Seriously though, this is what many churches wrestle with in shifting from offering information to facilitating formation.
August 11, 2010 at 3:08 pm
Joshua, Crawford’s book is worth reading. It’s not precisely the same as experimental metaphysics, but it’s good.
The name I give to the process of experimental metaphysics in Alien Phenomenology is “carpentry.” I like that term for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is the focus on making something real, that really works. I recently tried to do this with my theory of Facebook games, which you can read about here.
August 11, 2010 at 3:09 pm
PS – Hugh’s Thoreau House is one of the examples I discuss in the book. Which I’m going to go back to working on now :)
August 11, 2010 at 6:32 pm
As another precursor, I’ve been reading some of Whitehead’s writing on education lately, and his notion of “technical culture” as a third approach to knowledge (in addition to “literary culture” and “scientific culture”) has interesting similarities. He disagreed with the conventional wisdom that crafts, machine-shop work, engineering, etc., were merely “a defective training unfortunately made necessary by cramped conditions of life”, while real knowledge was found either via science (natural facts) or the humanities (cultural knowledge). (I wrote something recently about this and the direction it’s gone in the design field, with apologies for the self-link.)
It does seem that his metaphysics writing didn’t make this connection explicit, unless I’ve missed it. His education writing hints at metaphysical implications, but is mostly targeted at educators and education-reform policymakers; and his own metaphysics was probably influenced by his own technical practices, but he doesn’t seem to say so.
August 11, 2010 at 7:18 pm
Similar points have been made by feminist philosophers for some time. One form of activity and production that they would point towards as making a rather significant difference to the construction of knowledges, theories and metaphysics is, rather obviously, sexual difference. An examle of this would be the claim that a metaphysic has never been written from a subject position that can give, or more specifcally has given, birth. Embodiment makes a difference for metaphysics, and sexual difference may mark out a rather significant aporia in the history of metaphysics.
Christine Battersby’s The Phenomenal Woman: Feminist Metaphysics and the Patterns of Identity is good in pursuing natality as a missing component of western metaphysics; although she is quite clearly working within the Kantian/Correlationist genre.
August 11, 2010 at 7:38 pm
Paul, can you say more about this? I’m not sure I understand how “sexual difference” is an activity commensurate with, say, lensgrinding. I get the feminist critique of course, but I think the equivalent to what Levi and I are after would entail making birthing itself the philosophical act. Which is an interesting idea!
August 11, 2010 at 7:41 pm
Put differently: what if the real Spinoza is in the lenses rather than in the books?
August 11, 2010 at 9:16 pm
Bogost: “I’m not sure I understand how “sexual difference” is an activity commensurate with, say, lensgrinding.”
…I’ve never heard it called *that before…
August 11, 2010 at 9:30 pm
I agree with much of what is said in the previous comments and in the post. As for Spinoza you could also add his staging of spiders where he’d put bugs in the web and watch the spider devour the bug. But doing philosophy itself also seems to be more than simply dealing with signs, representations, and propositions. There’s how one physically handles the books and articles one is reading. Does one outline in the text, underline, make marginal comments, etc.? Where does one work best, with music, in the morning, with coffee? How does one then go on to outline, or does one outline? Graham has a nice post on how he writes a philosophical essay which touches on a number of these themes (and I mirror much of what he does in that regard). Does one physically organize what one needs to work on. And I’ve found that in teaching and interacting with students their mannerisms, facial expressions, and the examples they offer as part of their questions or elaborations (and often if not usually non-philosophical and very tangible examples) are part of what I need to do things with in making my what I’m discussing clear. At conferences or at work in progress seminars it took training and discipline on my part to be able to listen to a verbal presentation of a philosophical argument. I found it a very different way of encountering philosophy than my habitual manner of reading texts. These practices no doubt merge indiscernibly with our other practices, whether of playing music, lens grinding, playing sim city, etc. I agree that in the end philosophical work is judged by the arguments and texts, but there is a lot of work, and often tangential work, that it seems should not be disentangled from the more straightforward representational work of stating an argument and responding to texts.
August 12, 2010 at 12:37 am
The idea of experimental metaphysics is great (even if reminds me of when me and a friend of mine started wondering what would Stanford’s Metaphysics Research Lab [the guys that run the SEP] looks like: we pictured a large room with many chairs and one table, the chairs for metaphysicians sit down, the table to use as an object about which discussing the metaphysical status:)
Now, Ian wrote above: ‘The name I give to the process of experimental metaphysics in Alien Phenomenology is “carpentry.”’ But I would ask: does carpentry refer to a philosophical performance or to a philosophical experiment? Or maybe none of the two? The stakes are different, the former would link metaphysical speculation to art, hence an enactment, perhaps even an embodiement and an actualization of thought in/through active materiality. The latter term carries with itself a different set of guidelines like empirical testing, detached observation and inquisitive probing. Carpentry seems to me different from both.
To explain what I mean:
Carpentry is a goal-oriented activity, whose aim is well clear before the carpenterial (?) act even begins: an aim, as you say, often embodied by some concrete product, ‘something real’. There is little space for a jam session in a carpenter’s workshop.
A performance on the other hand is a much more instant-driven act, whose aim resides in the development through time of the performance itself. By the time a performance is over, is time to shut the lights, nothing remains behind. Performance is a one-time event, meaningful for its uniqueness. (This seems closer to what Levi describes for conferences).
An experiment is surely goal-oriented but, unlike carpentry, the desired goal is not necessarily clear before the experiment starts, and, unlike a performance, it is designed to be repeated again and again. An experiment can often be retrospectively justified and even experiements which failed to prove or discover what they were supposed to prove or discover can be said to have been successful (by showing what was not the case). A carpenter will be hardly able to justify a failed, two-legged chair. On the other hand, a carpenter does not aim at ‘discovering’ anything, but aims at producing (by cooperating with materials) a products which will end up containing both the initial project and the impositions forced upon the plan by the material.
Personally of the three possible revisons of philosophical activity I indeed prefer ‘carpentry’ inasmuch it allows us to question the predominance of the book as a vehicle for arguments (assuming that manufacturing ‘arguments’, in whatever form or shape, is really what philosophy is all about…).
Could one then say that ‘experimental carpentry’ would then be the act of combining thought with different materials, in order to see which of them will welcome thought and resonate with it and which will totally reflect or totally absorb it, hence remaining opaque and alien.
August 12, 2010 at 9:10 am
Ian said, “can you say more about this? I’m not sure I understand how “sexual difference” is an activity commensurate with, say, lensgrinding. I get the feminist critique of course, but I think the equivalent to what Levi and I are after would entail making birthing itself the philosophical act. Which is an interesting idea!”
Sorry, I was conflating a few feminist points about the nature of metaphysics and philosophy generally. I was approaching the conclusion that, as you put it, birthing itself might be viewed as a philosophical act, although I never quite put it that way. Splitting the points apart, first, one might say that certain activities are only possible for certain types of bodies. Notably, some bodies are capable of birthing. Second, one might also view pregnancy and birthing as a particular kind of production/labor; plenty of interesting Marxist feminist writing on this topic. Third, maternity, pregnancy and birthing are almost certainly significant in feminist standpoint epistemologies, theories of identity/subjectivity etc., and also may – more fundamentally – be relevant to metaphysics. Now I can’t recollect any feminist philosophers who explicitly identify birthing as a philosophical act, but Kristeva comes remarkably close when writing on the maternal and using birthing/pregnancy as a model for ethics.
It just seems to me that the notion of experimental metaphysics would, for many feminists, be seen as a logical extension of the second wave feminist axiom that the ‘personal is political’. While what happens in the kitchen, bedroom, workplace has political significance (and vice versa) – and is, in a sense, political – so too might it be viewed as a philosophical act. Many religious feminists quickly extended the axiom to the ‘personal is political is spiritual’ and there are plenty of examples of feminist theologians who have identified a range of human activities, from cooking and gardening to sex and revolutionary politics, as theological acts. It seems a small step to say that the philosophy, or the philosopher, is in the act. But this is not new territory, one needs only to look towards Zen Buddhism, Daoism or Confucianism to find well articulated accounts of how craft and work are the philosophical act. Indeed, the identification of philosophy with activity goes to the heart of much of non-western philosophy. It is always sad how debates circulate about the gulf between Anglo-American and Continental philosophy when the rest of the world’s philosophical traditions are erased/ignored.
August 12, 2010 at 11:13 am
Paul,
‘Indeed, the identification of philosophy with activity goes to the heart of much of non-western philosophy’
yeah, that’s precisely what I was thinking about when I wrote above that it is questionable that the production of ‘arguments’ is all that there is to philosophy.
However, we should ask again what kind of activity: the creation and preservation of a Zen stone garden, for example, is only superficially a carpenterial act (which makes something real, an arrangement of stones) but more openly a performance aimed at cultivating one’s own Buddhamind. Now the question seems to be: is there a ‘correlationist danger’ when it comes to acts (and action-oriented philosophies)?
August 12, 2010 at 11:22 am
Fabio,
in my view correlationism is a figure that arises largely from a scholarly lifestyle. There’s a reason that engineers, experimental scientists, laborers of all sorts, and so on tend to be reialists. They perpetually encounter something that exceeds them in their acts. As a consequence, they don’t encounter being as a passive matter upon which they can impose any matter they might like. This is why I see little danger in the act falling into correlationism (and by “act” here I am NOT referring to anything like Lacanian acts. I think Bourdieu is unparalleled in his diagnosis of the sorts of distortions the persona of the scholar generates.
August 12, 2010 at 12:13 pm
I think the work Martin Howse is involved in is a particullarly nice example of this kind of practice http://www.1010.co.uk/org/
August 12, 2010 at 4:00 pm
Coming from a tradesman’s family I find these concerns pretty fascinating. My father is a carpet fitter (not a carpenter) and he was always clear that he never wanted me to ‘work with my hands’ because he found the work backbreaking and pretty mind-numbing [and we should be careful not to romanticize hands-on work though it is clear you are not we all have heard people do so before].
I can’t help but feel a certain tinge of uselessness in my inability to do a lot of the practical work that he can and remain endlessly fascinated by the utter ease with which he approaches these tasks.
There is a very real issue here and I am glad that you have raised it. If I am helping him, as I do so more often now that he is older, I often find that my thinking does not always square up with some basic principles of ‘getting things done.’ The great irony of hammering when you are a Heideggerian and finding yourself thinking about the ready to hand and present at hand is hard to miss but it is a good example of how practical work can inform your thinking. In the case of some basic hammering I’m pretty sure that Heidegger’s theory is correct. You can prove it to yourself in the *act*. So we can surely expand this further and this has my utmost support.
I think a lot of people who never had the chance to go to University would really enjoy the chance to teach some practical skills to graduates and in turn hearing a little bit about what we do. Even if it was a total failure I think it is worth a shot. It might lead to trades people considering further education or even those in further education considering different jobs other than academia. This is more important than ever. It could help build confidence in all directions.
August 12, 2010 at 5:59 pm
To the initial point made by Levi that practices may very well disappear in the texts themselves, I will suggest Dan Selcer’s recent book, _Philosophy and the Book: Early Modern Figures of Material Inscription (Continuum 2010), wherein Selcer demonstrates the reciprocal presupposition of the organization of knowledge (texts) and knowledge production (tools, materials, practices). Leibniz, Bayle, Spinoza, Copernicus, and other early moderns are given extensive treatment.
August 12, 2010 at 7:02 pm
Wow, great suggestion (Philosophy and the Book). Ordered.
August 12, 2010 at 7:45 pm
I was a relative latecomer to University myself, working for about nine years with my own father, who was a plasterer by trade. I was primarily a laborer with some trade skills too by the age of twenty six or seven, and I became quite clear that this was not the kind of activity that I wanted to still be involved in when I was forty or fifty. Besides I was reading a lot of Sartre, de Beauvoir, Freud, Jung and other thinkers in my spare time and decided that I would give Higher Education a go; something I certainly wasn’t ready for coming out of secondary education.
The question of whether performing a trade was a philosophical act for me is a rather difficult one to answer. There is a level of complexity in that particular situation that speaks of multiple Latourian relations and actants, or what Levi might call a mesh. One personal example might simply be at the level of gender identities. Consider that I was reading a lot of feminist theory during that time and then imagine the gender dynamics and identities of the building site. A certain heightened level of reflexivity was the inevitable consequence. Did my activity qua plasterer embody or manifest my developing feminist philosophical consciousness? I’m not entirely sure how. Did my activity qua plasterer constitute a philosophical act? Perhaps, and this seems to be closer to the main question under review here. Did my time as a tradesman inform my philosophical activity qua academic? I think this is definitely the case. As Paul Ennis notes, hammers (and the tool-analysis) have a rather different meaning when you have worked extensively with them, or when you are wrestling with a twisting and bending 8×4 plasterboard over your head.
What are we looking for here, though? Does homo faber or homo laborans produce particular modes of philosophy? For example, in Levi’s points above, are laborers and tradesmen minimally realist because of their engagement with the world? I certainly take Levi’s point that they “perpetually encounter something that exceeds them in their acts.” My 8×4 plasterboard would be a case in point, although there might also be a desire to view the world through an animist lens. Objects can be so unruly and tricky that one can really want them to be imbued with some form of special quality (consciousness/spirit/mind). This is interesting stuff and I’m grappling with some of it at the moment. Ian’s question “what if the real Spinoza is in the lenses rather than in the books?” perhaps goes to the heart of the matter. But why stop at these forms of activity? A line of enquiry that Ian is likely well equipped to address is what of homo ludens, games and sports. Is the philosophy in the play, in the game, the sport too? Any philosophers of sport out there? I guess Graham may have a view, but I’m not trolling for a reply.
August 12, 2010 at 7:50 pm
Paul,
I’m getting ready to head off to the grocery store, but I just wanted to respond to this comment quickly:
I obviously think the answer is yes! Note that anti-realism arose simultaneously with the rise of the philosopher as an actual academic position. Most prior philosophers were not solely academics (or even affiliated with universities), but rather were people who had a number of other professions, many of which involved directly engaging with the world. These philosophies are overwhelmingly realist in orientation. I don’t think this is a coincidence. Part of my argument would run that the rise of anti-realism is deeply related to the rise of the professionalization of academia, i.e., I’m inclined to see the things that lead one to be an anti-realist to be largely tied to a particular sociological setting, not a particular set of arguments, problems, or reasons.
August 29, 2010 at 12:04 pm
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February 22, 2013 at 2:59 am
I am new to the phrase “Experimental Metaphysics.” A lot of what I do as a yoga teacher can be encompassed by the term. I will be reading Abner Shinmoy’s book on the subject. I am planning on teaching at a yoga conference and am thinking of Experimental Metaphysics as a title. I would like to loosely base my very brief description for the 2 hr workshop on a few lines from your blog. I would give you credit when i taught but probably not in the description itself…would that be agreeable??? Please say yes.
February 22, 2013 at 3:00 am
*Shimony
February 22, 2013 at 12:58 pm
Fine by me.
February 27, 2013 at 4:53 am
I’d love to see “experimental” considered here in a sense that is closer to the way the term is used in the arts. I’m thinking specifically of the way John Cage defined the experimental “not as descriptive of an act to be later judged in terms of success and failure, but simply as of an act the outcome of which is unknown.” If we take “experimental metaphysics” in this sense, then aesthetics truly becomes first philosophy. The practice of philosophy, and the elaboration of a metaphysics, could be understood, then, as an event-driven act, an event/act whose duration may span a lifetime, and, as Fabio puts it, whose aim resides in the “development through time of the [philosophizing] itself.” This is to say that an experimental metaphysics would see itself chiefly as an aesthetic project whose article of creation—its “ontology”—is no less fabricated than, for example, experimental music’s “compositions,” or experimental fiction’s “novels.” What’s important to an experimental metaphysics of this kind is making sense, which is to say, making particular activities function in a way that lures attention into the ambit of an effective difference—namely, the difference that an argument, along with its concomitant rhetoric and style, makes. Like any artwork, the sense a metaphysics makes needn’t be true or even, in the extreme, coherent. A(n experimental) metaphysics just needs to be persuasive, or more importantly, it needs to be interesting in its invention of a conceptual domain. I’d suggest a metaphysics is also experimental not only when the practices that inform the collection of ideas are spotlighted or emphasized, as they would be—discomfitingly perhaps—at a conference that asks its participants to cook, fold paper, etc., but when an effort to create concepts and to forge new ways of thinking is done without knowing what sense their being done will make. This, however, would be incredibly difficult to image because it risks undermining the cogency that makes philosophy a robust form of knowledge and not mere prattle. (Perhaps this is what Guattari was up to. Levi suggests in another post that he finds G. thinks “too quickly.” It’s possible that Guattari was not thinking too quickly so much as he was doing exactly the kind of experimental thinking that I’m relating here.)