Thursday Night, Saturday Morning
Roger Scruton is giving the Gifford lectures this year in St. Andrews, and the head of the philosophy department (roughly) sent out an e-mail to all postgraduate students asking whether we'd like to have dinner with Scruton, courtesy of Lord Gifford's bequest. Naturally, I went. (I know Scruton is a bit, y'know, infamous, but he says good things about high art and classical music, and he talks a lot about the importance of things (art, love, faces, society) which I think important (and which it seems few people think important), and is often a surprisingly good philosopher; and as I've also read some of his books (including the massive The Aesthetics of Music), I did want to go.) Ten or eleven people went altogether; to a local Indian restaurant, and then to the house Roger has been given for the few weeks he's in St. Andrews for whiskey.
It was very interesting. Two of my classmates also went, and one of them especially was hugely star-struck. Why, I'm not sure, as the guy's a metaphysician, but whatever. On the way to Scruton's house, we ran into Sarah Broadie, who decided to join the contingent. Katherine Hawley was also there (she being the organiser of the whole things). This metaphysician (Joseph) and I were walking just behind, and he was acting like a teenager: his eyes were wide as you like, an amazed smile on his face - "Look at them there! It's like walking behind Jesus, Mohammed and the Buddha!" I guess I can understand why he was so excited, but I can't really muster that same excitement. These philosophers, undoubtedly, are extremely bright. There probably aren't many hundreds of people brighter than them, and I'm not even sure if you can meaningfully quantify intelligence at that level. But, they're still just people. They have accents and gaits and all this, and it's hard for me to idolise them.
But anyway: Scruton's character is really interesting. While pouring us all whiskey in his place, one guy declined on grounds that he was a teetotaller. Scruton joked, "I thought there was something wrong with you!" at which we all laughed. The joke was a bit cruel, but just a joke, nothing personal, all that. But he wasn't saying that just because it filled the space well or whatever, as it would've been if I'd said it; he was saying it, you can be sure, because he has a reason why not drinking is Morally Wrong. And at other points throughout the night, you saw this same thing: there is a true answer to the question, and Scruton is in possession of it. He never shies from calling people wrong, and from speaking his mind. It's very interesting, although I reckon I would've found it insufferable if I cared about it.
I tried to get him to talk about some of his philosophy which I've read - musical value mainly, I think - because I think he's wrong, and I'm somewhat competent in the area, and I wanted to argue with him; but he didn't seem interested. Perhaps there's a legitimate reason for this. It was, after all, a relaxed evening, not a philosophy class.
I don't know what to make of his style of philosophy. He argues not with deduction and logical tools, but by showing images and making certain things salient, and giving impressionistic arguments to try and persuade us to look at the world from a new perspective, the one in which he is right. It makes his conclusions rather less than inexorable. But I want to defend it for two reasons. First, he does go through things slowly, and he does a very good job of making these impressionistic arguments convincing. Second, it seems that his is more or less the only way to properly engage with these very important things such as, for example that which he talked about in his lecture on Thursday, how the human subject is expressed through his or her face. If we were to be stricter with our methods, we would have a more philosophically respectable argument, but it would be unable to deal with things with which we must try to deal.
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I stayed up all night last night with the rest of St. Andrews's student population, so that I could go to the beach at four or so for the May Dip, the olde St. Andrews tradition. The May Dip involves running, at sunrise (5.30ish), into the North Sea in, if you're prepared, swimwear, or, if you're not, the nip, having a bit of a thrash and a scream, and running back out again happier. The beach at which it takes place is tiny, so the people are packed close enough together that you can barely walk along it. Bonfires are set up (there was even a temporary gazebo!), and someone even came around with hot chocolate. It's great fun.
It was very interesting. Two of my classmates also went, and one of them especially was hugely star-struck. Why, I'm not sure, as the guy's a metaphysician, but whatever. On the way to Scruton's house, we ran into Sarah Broadie, who decided to join the contingent. Katherine Hawley was also there (she being the organiser of the whole things). This metaphysician (Joseph) and I were walking just behind, and he was acting like a teenager: his eyes were wide as you like, an amazed smile on his face - "Look at them there! It's like walking behind Jesus, Mohammed and the Buddha!" I guess I can understand why he was so excited, but I can't really muster that same excitement. These philosophers, undoubtedly, are extremely bright. There probably aren't many hundreds of people brighter than them, and I'm not even sure if you can meaningfully quantify intelligence at that level. But, they're still just people. They have accents and gaits and all this, and it's hard for me to idolise them.
But anyway: Scruton's character is really interesting. While pouring us all whiskey in his place, one guy declined on grounds that he was a teetotaller. Scruton joked, "I thought there was something wrong with you!" at which we all laughed. The joke was a bit cruel, but just a joke, nothing personal, all that. But he wasn't saying that just because it filled the space well or whatever, as it would've been if I'd said it; he was saying it, you can be sure, because he has a reason why not drinking is Morally Wrong. And at other points throughout the night, you saw this same thing: there is a true answer to the question, and Scruton is in possession of it. He never shies from calling people wrong, and from speaking his mind. It's very interesting, although I reckon I would've found it insufferable if I cared about it.
I tried to get him to talk about some of his philosophy which I've read - musical value mainly, I think - because I think he's wrong, and I'm somewhat competent in the area, and I wanted to argue with him; but he didn't seem interested. Perhaps there's a legitimate reason for this. It was, after all, a relaxed evening, not a philosophy class.
I don't know what to make of his style of philosophy. He argues not with deduction and logical tools, but by showing images and making certain things salient, and giving impressionistic arguments to try and persuade us to look at the world from a new perspective, the one in which he is right. It makes his conclusions rather less than inexorable. But I want to defend it for two reasons. First, he does go through things slowly, and he does a very good job of making these impressionistic arguments convincing. Second, it seems that his is more or less the only way to properly engage with these very important things such as, for example that which he talked about in his lecture on Thursday, how the human subject is expressed through his or her face. If we were to be stricter with our methods, we would have a more philosophically respectable argument, but it would be unable to deal with things with which we must try to deal.
---
I stayed up all night last night with the rest of St. Andrews's student population, so that I could go to the beach at four or so for the May Dip, the olde St. Andrews tradition. The May Dip involves running, at sunrise (5.30ish), into the North Sea in, if you're prepared, swimwear, or, if you're not, the nip, having a bit of a thrash and a scream, and running back out again happier. The beach at which it takes place is tiny, so the people are packed close enough together that you can barely walk along it. Bonfires are set up (there was even a temporary gazebo!), and someone even came around with hot chocolate. It's great fun.