During one summer as an undergrad at Dalhousie, I decided to take courses to make up credits so that I could complete my Bachelor in a timely degree (I late found out this was unnecessary. Whoops!) One of the courses I took was called "Justice in Global Perspective". The class, alas, didn't hold up to its intriguing title. One of the reasons was mostly because of my inability to perform well in a philosophy setting. Moreso than anthropology, which was my main focus at the time, philosophy really depended on preliminary knowledge of the whole Western philosophy canon. Though it wasn't as difficult for me to pick things up in this class compared to other philosophy department courses, it was still present. But, and this may just be for me, it wasn't so much the ideas as it was the methods of investigation and arguing that I failed to grasp and employ. I only recently have developed a knack for arguing with other's arguments, which is the bread and butter of philosophy at the undergrad level, or at least that's my experience. I was taught to argue much differently, which in undergrad anthropology, was to have physical evidence and to present that evidence within a theoretical framework that favoured that evidence. It was never passed on us to suggest, within our arguments, potential paradoxes or rebuttals. Those things were to be discussed at other times. However, in undergrad philosophy, rebuttals and their responses were seriously integral to any argument at this level. Anyways, the long and short of it is that I was neither prepared not particular good in a philosophical setting.
In this course, I discovered a lot about myself however, particularly my annoying habit of contrarianism. At my core, I'm still like this to an extent, but I try my best to never leave it there and try to make something somewhat productive out of this tendency. At the time, however, I never ceased to continuously voice my objections to anything too macro- or all encompassing. I was, and to an extent continue to be, fascinated by the quotidian and, at that time believed that anything that either downplayed the everyday, or outright ignored, was lacking in relevance.
I've come to be a little more lenient in this regard, though I still hold myself to the Kantian ethic of experience as the root of scientific exploration. However, my scepticism remains when an argument comes up that seems a little too perfect. During this course, Peter Singer's effective altruism was presented by the instructor as a faultless argument. This wasn't because of the specifics of Singer's arguments, which revolved around world poverty and animal rights, but the faultlessness of the argument that humans should do whatever they can to minimize suffering. I have good reason to believe that human's do what they think is best given the situation, but I'm also aware of the fact that this is a very complex process involving long histories, misinterpretations, plain fucking luck and, to some extent, the suffering of someone. These nuances were completely lost in Singer's argument as it was being presented to me.
As Singer was being presented to me. I did my usual goading of the instructor who I am sure would have a low opinion of me were he ever reminded of that class. I was convinced that this argument was too culturally specific and naive. But what really stuck with me was my interaction with the instructor. I would give one suggestion like "What if I think that not doing anything about world poverty was the best thing to solve world poverty?" and "What if suffering was the best form of preventing suffering, a la Buddhist immolation, or the crucifying of Christ?" Everything I could come up with was met with the same answer from the instructor, "Than that's what you should do." I fucking hated this and I continue to fucking hate this. I am fully convinced that any theory this encompassing isn't accomplishing anything other than exploiting the shortcomings of our ability to understand and communicate our individual and shared experiences. This isn't an argument that produces, it's an argument that shows the limits of our abilities.
My understanding of Singer's argument right now are far less impassioned, but I still maintain a strong aversion to any theory that tries to be all encompassing. I'm beginning to notice that I'm developing a similar feeling towards Luhmann. Up until this point, I've simply thought that Luhmann's social system's theory is a very convincing theory, but now I begun to ask myself "Is it a little too convincing?"
What it is particularly about Luhmann's ideas that makes me feel this way is how I can't for the life of me find a way to refute his ideas because, as anyone familiar with Luhmann's use of dialectics knows, refuting or critiquing something only further affirms the presence of the thing that is trying to be dismantled.
The other thing that causes me some unease is that Luhmann's theory is insanely well prepared for anything that may come in the future.
Simultaneously, I think that I take Luhmann's ideas far too seriously and not take his advice, which is to not only take science less seriously, but to never forget that science is as much about proofs as it is about the suspending of preconceived ideas of 'reality'. But now I'm finding myself only reaffirming the exceptional breadth and nuance allowed by Luhmann's social system theory. Clever fucker, this one.
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