North American Philosophical Publications

Progress in Philosophy
Author(s): Todd C. Moody
Source: American Philosophical Quarterly, Vol. 23, No. 1 (Jan., 1986), pp. 35-46
Published by: University of Illinois Press on behalf of the North American Philosophical
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American Philosophical Quarterly
Volume 23, Number 1, January 1986
PROGRESS IN PHILOSOPHY
Todd C. Moody
A great deal has been written about progress in
^"^ science; little has been written about progress
in philosophy.1 Perhaps the very subject is some?
thing of an embarrassment.
What is to be avoided in an undertaking of this
sort is the temptation to evaluate progress in philos?
ophy according to a scientific paradigm. This temp?
tation is almost overpowering, due to the success
of science. Only an obscurantist of heroic stubborn?
ness would attempt to deny the dramatic progress
of science. Yet it is clear that as long as our notion
of progress is limited to its scientific epitomization,
we will be unable to make out any sense of progress
in philosophy. An understanding of progress that
is a suitable context for observations about philos?
ophy is needed.
At first blush, it would seem that progress in
any activity presupposes some goal, and is mea?
sured with respect to that goal. Therefore, the first
question that must be asked is "Does philosophy,
in general, have a goal?and if so, what is it?"
Before we can hope to answer it, however, there
is other work to do.
The dieter makes, or fails to make, progress
toward svelteness, the runner toward swiftness, the
insurance salesman toward quota, and so on. What
each of these cases has in common is a decidable
goal. An ideal body weight, a target running time,
a required number of policies sold?in each case,
it is possible for the individual to decide with con?
fidence whether progress has been made during a
given interval. It is possible for an observer to
decide it as well. Call this "progress1?" the kind of
progress that is available when there is a specifi?
able, decidable goal.
Not surprisingly, there is a whole range of cases
where things are not so crisply decidable. The con?
valescent makes progress toward health, the figure
skater toward perfect form, the poet toward the
perfection of her poem. Can any of these people
say in advance just what will mark the attainment
35
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of their goal? Probably not. It is likely, however,
that any of them would have a very well-developed
sense of when progress is being made and when it
is not. They may, but need not, rely on the judgment
of an observer to tell them this. Sometimes they
must rely upon their own judgment. Call this "prog
ress2." Progress2 is the sort of progress that can be
made even where the goal cannot be specified in
any clear way, but given intervals of change can
nevertheless be identified as progress or regress,
by either the individual or some observer. To place
a further restriction upon progress2, we shall stipu?
late that neither the overall goal nor the intermediate
sub-goals has clearly specifiable criteria.
The poet, the painter, the composer and the
sculptor are guided by some inner sense that tells
them when they are "getting it right" and when
they are not. It is an intuitive sense; it is highly
unlikely that any of them could articulate even
strictly personal criteria for the subgoals (if any)
that go into their activities. Therefore, what they
do exemplifies progress2.
The salient feature of progress2 is that its main
criteria are subjective; it is the kind of progress
that we associate with "creative" activity. In spite
of this subjectivity, it is still a very real sense of
progress. The subjectivity is balanced by the con?
straints placed on individual practice by the com?
munal context in which it occurs. Even the most
iconoclastic artist works within a cultural context
that lets her (and others) judge the progress of her
work. The accomplished musician makes progress2
by extending her interpretive power (as distin?
guished from the novice musician who learns
scales). To a certain extent, she is able to know
that she is doing so in virtue of her sense of being
able to perform more difficult passages than was
previously the case. The subjective sense of aug?
menting one's previous range of competence and
of penetrating into areas of increasing difficulty are
very important for assessing progress2, up to a
 36 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
point. One should not conclude, however, that a
series of improvements is the goal of progress2. It
is just not clear that after a certain point it is still
convenient for, say, a musician or a painter to
assess progress in terms of either performance
extension or difficulty. A pianist such as Rubinstein
in his later years may continue to make musical
progress even as his repertoire dwindles, by virtue
of the sublime rendering of the pieces that remain
in it. Similarly, it becomes difficult to give much
significance to the terms "difficult" and "easy" after
this point is reached. Perhaps personal satisfaction
and assimilation by a culture are the only reliable
criteria of progress2. Certainly, the distinction
between subjective and objective falters here.
Improvement may be one source of satisfaction,
but it is certainly not the only one.
Progress3 is a hybrid. It applies to the scientist,
the gymnast, or the novice musician who is still
trying to master the fundamentals of performance.
It is characterized by the availability of a series of
fairly decidable intermediate goals, but no goal of
completion. The mathematician may not know, or
care, what the "ultimate" goal of mathematics is,
but he has a pretty good idea of when he has and
has not proved a theorem, worked out an algorithm,
and the like. This is so in spite of the fact that he
may not be able to say in advance what counts as
proof in general and what would count as proof in
a given instance. Nevertheless, mathematics is a
progress3 activity, for at least two reasons. First,
the mathematician may not be able to say up front
what would count as proof of a given theorem, but
he very likely can say what would count as a refu?
tation or counterexample. Second, and more impor?
tant, mathematics progresses by the solution of dis?
crete problems, which solutions are accepted as
mathematical knowledge by the mathematical com?
munity, by and large. This may be more prob?
lematic today, with the proliferation of "schools"
of mathematics?formalist, intuitionists, logicist?
than it was a hundred years ago, but it still seems
about right.
It would appear that the physical sciences are
also progress3 activities. There may be no agreed
upon final goal for them, but progress within them
comprises the solutions of a series of problems,
whose accretion is called scientific knowledge.
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This much is not controversial. Progress3 is
exemplified by the linking of episodes of progress x,
in the absence of an overall, or final goal.
The first move is to assume provisionally that
philosophy is an inquiry; a discourse aimed at
finding things out. The expression "philosophical
inquiry" is certainly well enough entrenched to indi?
cate that this is a plausible assumption.
By calling an activity an inquiry (a more
restricted class than "discourse"), we move into a
context where several more assumptions are already
in place. An inquiry in this sense is typically a
collective activity. When we speak of progress in
an inquiry, we shall be referring to progress of the
whole, and not the progress of this or that individual
inquirer, for the time being. An inquiry takes a
"realistic" stance toward its subject matter, at least
to the limited extent that it assumes that there is
some aspect of the subject matter that is "there"
independently of investigative efforts. The indi?
vidual participant in an inquiry assumes that it is
within his power to discover true things about his
subject matter.
Let us borrow Kuhn's terminology and stipulate
that there is a manageable distinction between
normal inquiry and abnormal ("revolutionary")
inquiry, and that the former is characterized by the
relatively stable presence of consensus-generating
procedures (CGP's). Examples of normal inquiry
include the so-called "hard" sciences (at least,
during "normal" intervals), engineering and
technological research, and mathematics.
A manifestation of normal inquiry is textbook
education. That is, in normal inquiry, one learns
to participate by reading the textbook, solving
sample problems, and generally mastering the cur?
rent paradigm. In normal inquiry, the record shows
an accumulation of solved problems. This gives us
a sequence of instances of progress! and the col?
lected sequence, progress3.
Now, ex hypothesi, philosophy is an inquiry.
But is it a normal inquiry? How many of the charac?
teristic features of normal inquiry are readily discer?
nible in philosophical inquiry?
The first item to consider is the CGP. It is dif?
ficult to discern CGP's in philosophy, for the simple
reason that it is difficult to discern consensus, espe?
cially positive consensus about results. There may
 PROGRESS IN PHILOSOPHY 37
be a vague kind of consensus among philosopher
within the various "schools" or "traditions" about
what is the proper way to address a philosophical
question.
An important part of philosophical inquiry is
agonism; one is expected to be called to task on
any and all points. There are no safe places in
philosophy. Having noted this, it is very plausible
to suppose that the immediate impetus for con?
tinuing philosophical research is not consensus at
all but perpetual and vociferous disagreement.
There is a sense, which we will examine a bit later,
in which consensus among philosophers about the
solutions to the main philosophical problems would
mark the end of philosophy. As it is, the only thing
that philosophers are likely to agree about with
enthusiasm is the abysmal inadequacy of a par?
ticular theory. This negative consensus is peculiarly
corrosive because of the way in which it perpetuates
the absence of positive consensus by enabling phi?
losophers to accuse each other of "making the same
mistake that X makes." Agreement about the
inadequacy of a theory becomes a strategy for effec?
tive disagreement about the adequacy of another
theory.
Textbook education is also conspicuously absent
in philosophy. Generally, the only textbooks are
introductory ones, where some basic terminology
is laid out and the novice is familiarized with the
inadequacies of various historical important view?
points. These books are seldom used after the initial
introductory course, and they are not always used
there. In philosophy the anthology of readings is
much more popular as the basic pedagogical tool.
The more controversial and polemical the readings,
the better. The teacher habituates the students to
thinking of philosophical problems as "issues" and
their possible solutions as "positions." Compare
these terms with "hypothesis" and "result" in the
sciences, or "theorem" and "solution" in mathema?
tics (not to mention "proof).
Does philosophy display a record of solved prob?
lems? It is difficult to think of a single philosophical
problem that could unequivocally and uncontrover
sially be labelled "solved." Again, it is instructive
to compare the situation in philosophy with that in
the natural sciences. Larry Laudan proposes the
following criterion of success for a scientific theory:
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The first and essential acid test for any theory is
whether it provides acceptable answers to interesting
questions: whether, in other words, it provides satis?
factory solutions to important problems.2
Of course, this presupposes CGP's to distinguish
between "satisfactory" solutions and errors,
between "interesting" problems and fool's errands.
Laudan proceeds to argue that conceptual problems
in science are to be played down in favor of "em?
pirical" ones. Empirical problems are susceptible
to normal methods of solution: observation, exper?
iment, and so forth. Laudan's conclusion is empha?
tic:
I have tried to argue that the single most general con
gitive aim of science is problem solving. I have
claimed that the maximization of the empirical prob?
lems we can explain and the minimization of the
anomalous and conceptual problems we generate in
the process are the raison d'?tre of science as a cog?
nitive activity. I have claimed that any research trad?
ition which can exemplify this process through time
is a progressive one.3
It is highly implausible to contend that the
minimization of conceptual problems is the raison
d'etre of philosophy. If there is progress in philos?
ophy, it is not manifest as an accumulation of solved
problems, nor is it achieved by minimizing
"anomalous and conceptual problems."
It would be a mistake to conclude, on the basis
of these comparisons with the natural sciences, that
there just is no progress in philosophy. Rather,
these reflections place us in a position to deliver
the following verdict with some confidence: Philos?
ophy is not a normal inquiry. Since we are still
proceeding on the assumption that it is an inquiry,
however, we need to decide whether philosophy
seen as an abnormal inquiry is also a progressive
inquiry. Meanwhile, an intermediate conclusion
emerges: Since we cannot adduce a record of solved
philosophical problems, progressx and progress3
must be ruled out. Therefore, we must examine
with special care the remaining hypothesis that
there is progress2 in philosophy.
The trouble with characterizing philosophy as
an abnormal inquiry is that in the absence of stable
CGP's, which absence is one of the hallmarks of
abnormal discourse, it is difficult to support the
 38 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
hypothesis that philosophy is an inquiry, after all.
We are caught on the horns of two apparently
incompatible intuitions: First, as philosophers, we
have the immediate and compelling feeling that
what we are doing is, in fact, finding things out
and not making them up as we go along. As much
as we might be willing to acknowledge our own
contribution to what we claim to "discover," I think
that we would be reluctant to relinquish the realistic
stance altogether. Second, and most troublesome,
we are only too aware that it is difficult or impos?
sible to point to a record of permanent positive
philosophical "discoveries" (or solved problems),
and that in the face of this fact the characterization
of philosophy as an inquiry?one that never quite
manages to find anything out?loses much of its
plausibility.
Faced with this dilemma, one option is to drop
the idea that philosophy is an inquiry. Two philos?
ophers who take this approach are Ludwig Wittgen?
stein and, more recently, Richard Rorty.4 I shall
call their models of philosophical activity the
"therapeutic model" and the "conversational
model," respectively.
Wittgenstein's thoughts on the nature of philos?
ophy do not lend themselves to easy encapsulation.
It is well known that there are serious divergences
between his "early" and "late" work. There is, how?
ever, one point of convergence between the two
periods: Wittgenstein believed that philosophical
problems are somehow spurious and that the
activity of philosophy?at least in its problem-sol?
ving or question-answering aspect?should termi?
nate with the withdrawal, or deconstruction, of
philosophical questions. Calling certain philosoph?
ical questions spurious is certainly not a remarkable
procedure; it is a standard philosophical move. The
remarkable part of Wittgenstein's view is that phi?
losophy as inquiry is seen as a terminating activity.
This passage from the preface to the Tractatus is
fairly explicit:
I therefore believe myself to have found, on all
essential points, the final solution of the problems.
And if I am not mistaken in this belief, then the second
thing in which the value of this work consists is that
is shows how little is achieved when these problems
are solved.5
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"Final solution" is unambiguous. Wittgenstein did
not abandon this view. In his later work he
developed the idea that it is possible to discern a
clear and decidable goal for philosophical activity;
namely, the cessation of philosophical inquiry or,
more accurately, the cure for the temptation to ask
philosophical questions.
One can defend common sense against the attacks
of philosophers only by solving their puzzles, i.e., by
curing them of the temptation to attack common
sense...6
The latter passage is from The Blue and Brown
Books, a collection associated with the develop?
ment of Wittgenstein's "latter" thinking. Notice
that he no longer speaks of solving problems; now
it is "puzzles" that get solved. The shift is away
from looking at philosophy as an inquiry, but the
notion that philosophy has an end (or at least that
that sort of philosophy can come an end) is still
present. It is also in this work that Wittgenstein
explicitly dismisses the notion of "philosophical
problems."
...in their correct and everyday use vagueness is
opposed to clearness, flux to stability, inaccuracy to
accuracy, and problem to solution. The very world
"problem," one might say, is misapplied when used
for our philosophical troubles. These difficulties, as
long as they are seen as problems, are tantalizing, and
appear insoluble.7
It is later in the Philosophical Investigations,
that the therapy model is developed more fully. It
is important to remember, however, that Wittgen?
stein viewed therapy as a terminating process, not
an end in itself. His remark that "The real discovery
is the one that makes me capable of stopping doing
philosophy when I want to,"8 epitomizes the
therapeutic model.
It is not that Wittgenstein wanted to deny that
there are philosophical puzzles, or troubles;
instead, it was his belief that the only way to deal
with these troubles, is to see them perspicuously.
This involves "seeing" the origin of these puzzles
in the language we use.
Thus, a great deal of Wittgenstein's later output
involves what he described as "assembling remin?
ders for a particular purpose."9 The purpose is to
 PROGRESS IN PHILOSOPHY 39
eliminate the temptation to ask philosophical ques?
tions. These reminders are not rigorous proofs.
Thus, he does not offer a deductive argument in
sections 66-67 of the Investigations to the effect
that we understand "game" by our sensitivity to an
overlapping set of family resemblances and partici?
pation in a form of life. Instead, we are supposed
to see the force of the analogy between family
resemblances and fibers in a thread. Once we see
this, we will no longer be tempted to inquire into
the "essence" of games, although we shall not have
"proved" anything about essentialism.
The fact that the therapeutic model of philosophy
provides a decidable terminus indicates that,
according to it, philosophy is a progress1 activity.
When philosophy ends, the goal will have been
reached, and that's that. According to the
therapeutic model, there is little more to be said.
As he puts it, "The attempts of both analytic philos?
There is a problem of historiography about whether
Wittgenstein was in fact content to rest with the
therapeutic model. I shall comment a bit later on
what he might have envisioned as a successor to
therapy.
So, we have gotten one answer to the question,
"Is there progress in philosophy?" I think that few
philosophers today can accept this particular
answer. For one thing, the efficacy of the therapy
rests upon enough philosophers "seeing" the source
of the trouble. While individual philosophers may
successfully penetrate a variety of philosophy puz?
zles, the only time it seems reasonable to attribute
this "seeing" to the philosophical community in
general is when it is "seen" that a given theory just
does not work. It cannot be maintained that Witt?
genstein's ideas have been ignored, but philosophy
has not ground to a halt, either. The therapy, even
for those who have undertaken it most zealously,
has not eradicated philosophical troubles. We may
well seek another model.
What I am calling the conversational model of
philosophy is articulated by Richard Rorty as a
default position based on what he perceives as the
failure of philosophy to succeed at its self-appointed
task. Most ofPhilosophy and the Mirror of Nature
is devoted to demonstrating the nature and extent
of this failure. The following two passages are rep?
resentative:
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Philosophy as a discipline thus sees itself as the
attempt to underwrite or debunk claims to knowledge
made by science, morality, art, or religion.
To know is to represent accurately what is outside
the mind; so to understand the possibility and nature
of knowledge is to understand the way in which the
mind is able to construct such representations. Philos?
ophy's central concern is to be a general theory of
representation, a theory which will divide culture up
into the areas which represent reality well, those which
represent it less well, and those which do not represent
it at all (despite their pretense of doing so).10
The historical fact of the matter is that these
efforts have not succeeded and, Rorty insists, the
cumulative effect of the work of certain twentieth
century figures, including Wittgenstein, has been
to cast doubt upon the very possibility of success.
ophers and phenomenologists to 'ground' this and
'criticize' that were shrugged off by those whose
activities were purportedly being grounded or
criticized."11
Central to Rorty's view is the thesis that the task
of philosophy as he has described it is a hangover
from elements of seventeenth and eighteenth cen?
tury thinking that have long ago been superseded
in other disciplines. He trades heavily on the ana?
chronism of philosophy, as can be seen in this
remark:
It is the notion that human activity (and inquiry,
the search for knowledge, in particular) takes place
within a framework which can be isolated prior to the
conclusion of inquiry?a set of presuppositions dis?
coverable a priori?which links contemporary philos?
ophy to the Descartes-Locke-Kant tradition.12
Rorty's observations are, I believe, important
and mostly correct. Still, the significance and impli?
cations of these insights need to be evaluated care?
fully.
First, Rorty urges that the realistic stance be
relinquished. This is the move whereby he rejects
the idea of philosophy as an inquiry. He says,
We might just be saying something?participating
in a conversation rather than contributing to an inquiry.
Perhaps saying things is not always saying how things
are.13
 40 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Our certainty will be a matter of conversation
between persons rather than a matter of interaction
with nonhuman reality.14
But these are false dilemmas. We do not have to
choose between just "saying something," itself a
rather empty notion that manages to say virtually
nothing, and inquiring, or between "conversing"
and "interacting with nonhuman reality." It is quite
clear that in doing philosophy we are interacting
with all-too-human reality; philosophers interact
mainly with each other.
Rorty opposes "edifying" to "systematic" philos?
ophy. By "systematic" philosophy, he means the
attempt to construct a fairly broad, coherent rep?
resentation of reality, or some portion, thereof.
"Edifying" philosophy comes down to the fol?
lowing recommendation:
...the point of edifying philosophy is to keep the
conversation going rather than to find objective truth.
Such truth, in the view I am advocating, is the normal
result of normal discourse. Edifying philosophy is not
only abnormal but reactive, having sense only as a
protest against attempts to close off conversation
through the hypostatization of some privileged set of
descriptions. The danger which edifying discourse
tries to avert is that some given vocabulary, some way
in which people might come to think of themselves,
will deceive them into thinking that from now on all
discourse could be, or should be normal discourse.15
Again, Rorty proposes a false dilemma in the
first sentence of the quoted passage. It is just not
clear that objectivity goes out the window with
"normalcy." If by "reactive" Rorty simply means
"emerging as a result of suspicion about the confi?
dence with which prior views have been held,"
then all discourse is to some extent reactive. Here,
then, are three reminders of some difficulties of
the conversational model:
1. If the point of edifying philosophy is to keep the
conversation (of Western culture) going, it need hardly
be "edifying" to accomplish that. Any philosophical
activity, no matter how relentlessly dogmatic, sys?
tematic, metaphysical, or aprioristic will suffice.
2. Edifying philosophy cannot be done without, in
the process, doing something systematic as well. Phi?
losophy and the Mirror of Nature is an extremely
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systematic representation of the relationship between
philosophy and culture.
3. The reactive role that Rorty assigns to edifying
philosophy turns out to be none other than a reintroduc?
tion of philosophy as the high court of reason, the
debunker of debunkers. But you can't debunk debunk?
ing, any more than you can refute refutation. Edifying
philosophy is the emperor's new mirror.
Getting back to the question of progress, the
conversational model does not lend itself to any
ready assessment. Perhaps as long as the conversa?
tion continues, progress is being made. This is an
extremely minimalistic sort of progress that does
not appear to fit any of the senses adumbrated ear?
lier in this chapter. More likely, conversation
should be viewed as non-progressive and non-ter?
minating?that is, merely perpetual.
It appears that by relinquishing the notion of
philosophy as an inquiry we have rather effectively
put it out of reach of progress, unless we accept
Wittgenstein's terminating therapy model. This is
a desperate move at best, and it is arguable that
Wittgenstein himself adopted it for polemical pur?
poses: to shatter the dogmatic slumbers of
positivism.
To recall the difficulty at which this essay
arrived: If we view philosophy as a species of
abnormal discourse, as it seems we must, then we
cannot plausibly view it as an inquiry. But we have
not done justice to the possibility of abnormal
inquiry, aside from noting the resistance within the
philosophical community to the abandonment of
the view that philosophy is an inquiry.
A recent attempt to develop an inquiry-based
model of philosophical activity has been made by
Robert Nozick. I shall designate this, catachresti
cally, as the "explanational model." The explana
tional model is overtly normative; Nozick is defi?
nitely making recommendations for the rehabilita?
tion of philosophy. Paraphrased, the most salient
features of the model are these:
1. The basic task of philosophy is to explain not the
necessary conditions for anything, but merely the suf?
ficient conditions. Philosophy offers explanations of
how things are possible.
2. Philosophical theorizing should incorporate explicit
reference to metatheoretical orientation, when possi?
ble.
 PROGRESS IN PHILOSOPHY 41
3. The agonistic, argumentative dimension of philos?
ophy should be discontinued, or somehow muted.
Concerning (1), Nozick writes,
The form of these questions is: how is one thing
possible, given (or supposing) certain other things?
Some statements rx,... ,rn are assumed or accepted or
taken for granted, and there is a tension between these
statements and another statement p; they appear to
excluder's holding true. Let us term the rj the apparent
excluders (of/?). Since the statement/? also is accepted,
we fact the question of how p is possible, given its
apparent excluders.16
The real contribution of the explanational model
is its attention to "apparent excluders." Many of
the most interesting topics of speculation are pre?
cisely those things whose very possibility not only
need to be explained but are apparently excluded
by something else. The inquiry into the possibility
of scientific knowledge derives some of its urgency
from the availability of skeptical arguments.
Altruism is most puzzling against a background of
selfishness.
What I have presented as recommendation (2)
of Nozick's explanational model points toward a
greater metaphilosophical candor. Philosophers
should perhaps become more self-conscious and
explicit about the metaphilosophical background
conditions of their work, even though these may
be presupposed without argument. Nozick remarks
that "A metaphilosophy will be part of a total phil?
osophical view rather than a separate neutral theory
above the battle."17
His use of "battle" is revealing, since it conflicts
with the third recommendation. No doubt, philo?
sophical arguments, like any argument, can get out
of hand, become destructively violent and create
Without confrontational argument, theories cannot
more confusion than they dispel. Nevertheless,
recommendation (3) rather naively misses the nor?
mative urgency of any explanation, not just philo?
sophical argument. To offer any explanation, or
metaphor, or expression of delight, or curse, is at
least in part to issue an invitation to "see the world
as I do." Nozick sees argumentation as "coercive,"
but is it necessarily more coercive than invitation?
It is simply incredible to imagine philosophers
calmly cranking out "explanations" without caring
if they are believed! As soon as one cares whether
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what one says is believed by the individuals to
whom one says it, one has committed one's will
to it; one has adopted the argumentative or, better,
agonistic stance. Nozick writes,
Just as dependence is not eliminated by treating a
person dependently, and someone cannot be forced
to be free, a person is not most improved by being
forced to believe something against his will, whether
he wants to or not. The valuable person cannot be
fashioned by committing philosophy upon him.18
Here, Nozick would do well to heed his own
recommendation (2). It is certainly startling to
suggest that philosophers are out to "improve" per?
sons, or to "fashion" valuable ones. There is a very
definite sense in which one's respect for a person
includes one's willingness to challenge her views,
to take them seriously enough to oppose them.
Nozick thinks that this is "not nice."19 What most
philosophers would readily agree, I believe, is "not
nice" is to be either ignored or patronized, yet this
is the upshot of Nozick's recommendation.
Perhaps, having recognized that argument is rather
central to philosophical practice, what needs to be
said is that philosophers should be heedful of when
argument has reached its limit. To miss the signifi?
cance of argument in philosophy with the bland
remark that it is "not nice" is to epitomize what
the non-philosophical community probably con?
siders to be the worst philosophical vice: oblivious
ness to what is going on around one.
What is the judgment concerning progress in
philosophy, if we use the explanational model?
Apparently, we get an accumulation of explana?
tions, without any particular dialectical coherence,
since argumentation is not included in the model.
easily be compared, seen as successors of other
theories, or judged adequate or inadequate. The
philosophical community would just crank them
out, without "compelling" anyone to as much as
take notice. The problem of the absence of CGP's
is sidestepped by declaring consensus to be of no
value whatsoever in philosophy. Nonetheless, as
long as philosophers keep themselves busy,
according to the explanational model progress is
being made. Nozick uses a vivid analogy:
 42 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Treating philosophy as a black box, we might view
its "output" not as a single theory, not even as one
set of theories, but as a set of questions, each with
its own set of associated theories as possible answers.20
As long as there is "output," there is progress.
Perhaps we may consider it non-terminating prog?
ress^ No doubt, this is a caricature of Nozick's
actual idea. Like most caricatures, it has a point.
The point is that you can't take the argumentative,
agonistic, coercive element out of philosophy
without mutilating it.
In the final analysis, what is needed is a sense
of "philosophical" that does not attempt to sidestep
philosophical disagreement, but incorporates it.
The fact that there are negative CGP's in philoso?
phy, resulting in a fair degree of consensus that
this or that theory, as it stands, does not work, is
significant just because it propels philosophers to
new efforts.
As was claimed earlier, positive consensus on
all issues would represent the end of philosophy,
its final exhaustion. An idea that I have argued
elsewhere21 is that the possible commensurability
of presently incommensurable discourses informs
the theory of philosophical objectivity, without pro?
viding a decision procedure, although it may
suggest certain lines of inquiry.
There is another model that I also want to
include. It is a prominent recent contribution to the
metaphilosophical literature. I shall call it the "pe?
rennial" model, developed by John Kekes in his
book, The Nature of Philosophy.22
Basically Kekes's idea is that the only defensible
purpose of philosophy is to offer solutions to certain
perennial problems. It is, at its best, a problem-sol?
ving discipline on his view. In the first chapter,
entitled "The Case Against Philosophy," he collects
some fairly deprecatory observations of what phi?
losophy in the analytic tradition has become. He
notes that what little consensus there is in philos?
ophy is negative, the exposure of errors. Even the
greatest philosophers, he complains, are destined
"to become labels for a style of thinking in which
students of philosophy are enjoined not to
engage."23 More significantly, Kekes accuses con?
temporary philosophers of retreating from the prob?
lems that are considered generally important in the
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culture at large. Their debates have become sterile
and incapable of making any contribution to
humanity. To the extent that philosophers have
withdrawn into the isolation of internecine technical
quarrels, they have evaded their traditional respon?
sibilities.
Kekes claims that the proper problems of philos?
ophy are the so-called "enduring" problems, of
which there are two kinds: problems of life and
problems of reflection. Problems of life are essen?
tially survival problems, such as food, shelter, and
the like. Problems of reflection arise when one
reflects upon what course of action will best enable
one to cope with some problem of life. The impor?
tant point here for the later development of Kekes's
view is that problems of life are not "theoretical"
things; they are pretheoretical and primordial. In a
sense, problems of life are the "given" in Kekes's
metaphilosophy. The following passage states this
quite clearly:
Problems of reflection are indeed theory-generated,
but problems of life are not. Problems of reflection
arise because problems of life have competing solu?
tions. So while it is true that problems of reflection
presuppose a theory, it is no less true that the theory
is held because it is expected to provide solutions to
problems of life. Theories presuppose problems of
life.24
Kekes is of course anticipating and rejecting the
objection that all problems, even problems of life,
are theory-laden. I shall comment a bit later.
Since problems of life are never solved for all
time, their attendant problems of reflection are
likewise enduring problems. These generate peren?
nial disputes over "ideals"?human ends. These
disputes may be internal, concerning the precise
definition of some ideal, or external, concerning
its appropriateness of acceptability. Justice, ration?
ality, and democracy are ideals in Kekes's sense,
as well as tyranny and oppression, if perchance
these latter are in fact desired and valued. Philos?
ophy concerns itself with generating the perennial
arguments about the nature and acceptability of
ideals. Since the primordial facts that are respon?
sible for the problems of life are constantly chang?
ing, the need for these arguments is, in fact, peren?
nial.
 PROGRESS IN PHILOSOPHY 43
It turns out that Kekes has three tests in mind to
determine whether a theory, or worldview, contains
the solution to a problem of life. Two are quite
straightforward: logical consistency and "criticiza
bility," which is his version of falsifiability. It must
be shown that a given theory is not self-contradic?
tory and that it is possible to identify possible con?
ditions that could tend to undermine it. The third
criterion is "adequacy of interpretation." Kekes
writes,
The second way of testing the truth-directedness of
a theory is through the adequacy of the interpretation
it offers. As we have seen, an acceptable theory must
offer a logically and initially plausible solution to the
enduring problem that prompted it. The solution is an
interpretation which provides a possible way of
thinking about a segment of reality. Interpretations
can be thought of as issuing a conditional: if you think
of reality in this way and act accordingly, then what
was previously problematic will no longer be so.25
The true theory is the one that solves the enduring
problem. Since the problems of life are not theory
bound, it is evidently not a theoretical issue whether
they are solved by a given theory or not.
There are several problems inherent in the peren?
nial model, even though it is certainly an impressive
recent attempt to develop a complete
metaphilosophy. The first and most conspicuous
one is the claim that the so called problems of life
are in some sense prior to any theories. Suppose
we re-christen Kekes's problems of life as "survival
problems." This done, it is clear that there is a
fairly broad range of such problems, from "sur
vival-as-a-biological-organism" to "survival-as-a
group-member" to "survival-as-a-non-alienated
being," and so on. Does Kekes mean to restrict the
enduring problems of life to the problems of biolog?
ical survival? If so (and his references to food and
shelter in this context support this interpretation),
then a case can no doubt be made that these are
pre- or non-theoretical problems. It would also
seem to entail that any being whose biological sur?
vival is not in jeopardy, such as a well-fed slave,
has no problems of life. On a collective scale, it
means that when the minima of biological survival
can be provided for every human being, the
enduring problems of mankind will have been sol?
ved.
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No doubt, when food and shelter can be provided
for all humans, one of the enduring problems will
have been solved; it is simply not plausible to claim
that none will remain. It implies, for example, that
in the United States, where death from starvation
and exposure is rare, the only remaining problems
of life are medical. There is room here for disagree?
ment.
The obvious response is to extend the notion of
problems of life to include the various other sorts
of survival problems mentioned above. Of course,
this means that we must reject the claim that the
problems of life are not in any sense theory-bound,
since the problems of justice, distribution, alien?
ation, and meaning are only intelligible within some
theory. Even biological survival is not the same
problem for the would-be suicide that it is for the
would-be octogenarian! Can we distinguish their
problems without "theories"?
The rejection of the claim that the enduring prob?
lems of life are "given" and not theory-bound vit?
iates the use of these as the source of a set of
adequacy-criteria external to any theory. We are
driven to the conclusion that there is no extra-phil?
osophical cognitive vantage point from which we
can assess the claims of philosophy. Unfortunately,
the perennial model leans quite heavily, and fatally,
on the claim that there is such a vantage point.
Without it, Kekes's following remarks are jejune:
For there is a true of false answer to the question
whether a theory is logically consistent, whether its
interpretation accounts for all the relevant facts, and
whether it has survived all available criticism. From
there being a correct answer, it does not follow that
it is easy to find it. The persistence of disagreements
indicates just how difficult it is.26
Ultimately, the dichotomy of problems of life
and problems of reflection fails. The notion of
external adequacy criteria fails. Is there progress
in philosophy according to the perennial model? If
the foregoing caveats are taken seriously, it is dif?
ficult to see how there can be more than "output"
again. No one has ever doubted that philosophical
arguments are perennial; we seek a progress that
is more than perpetuity.
The state of the argument is this: An analysis of
progress has been offered. Four models of philo
 44 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
sophical inquiry have been compared and
criticized. The absence of stable CGP's in philos?
ophy was noted. Consensus is defined as agreement
or the cessation of controversy, at least. It remains
to be seen how actual disagreements in the present
day philosophical community are to be handled,
since the "persistence of disagreement" is salient
in all the models examined.
Nicholas Rescher has stated that, concerning
philosophical disagreement, "The nature of the
enterprise is itself such that it is unrealistic to expect
consensus, and inappropriate to lament its
absence."27 While urging the recognition of "orien
tational pluralism" in philosophy?the view that
"philosophical issues are always such that argu?
ments of substantial prima facie cogency can be
built up for a cluster of mutually incompatible
theses"28?Rescher does not attempt to downplay
the role of argument. Instead, he notes that the
arguments are "non-preemptive."
In philosophy, supportive argumentation is never
alternative-precluding. Thus the fact that a good case
can be made out for giving one particular answer to
a philosophical question is never to be considered as
constituting a valid reason for denying that an equally
good case can be produced for some other incompat?
ible answers to this question.29
He calls these families of alternative solutions
to a given philosophical problem "aporetic clusters"
and notes that every philosophical problem gener?
ates them. While theories, supported by positive
argumentation, do indeed proliferate, there is also
a dialectical undertow at work, eliminating certain
views: the negative CGP's. Not all positions are
eliminated, however; they become philosophical
classics, paradigms, if you will, that generate their
own aporetic clusters.
The process of eliminative undertow in philos?
ophy is not simply one of exposing deductively
faulty arguments. Rescher notes that perfectly valid
argument are evaluated in terms of the conclusions
to which they lead, and their prima facie plausibil?
ity, as well as the correctness of the deductive
steps. This evaluation takes into account the "costs"
of a given position, frequently in terms that extend
far beyond the parameters of the position as it is
presented. In following the Socratic injunction to
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"follow the argument where it leads," we are not
entitled to stop when we get there. We must also
ask if we are willing to stay where the argument
leads.
A probative orientation of the sort at issue here is
axiological?it embodies certain value predispositions
regarding the probative appraisal of theses and argu?
ments.... Accordingly, such a perspective is not an
algorithm for producing solutions to philosophical
problems given certain constraints, but rather serves
to define the constraints themselves, forming a part
of what is needed to mark a solution as acceptable,
to see that the solution is a solution.30
The sources of these predispositions and con?
straints may not be easily identifiable, or even cog
nitively structured. This does not make them unfit
for the role they play in philosophical reasoning,
but it requires the dialectical effort of the entire
community even to uncover what they are. Things
are not always what they seem, and this goes for
orientational commitments as much as anything
else.
The two most important features of this view are
(1) it is not anarchistic; there are still rational con?
straints upon what positions can be plausibly linked
with which orientations; (2) the viability of a given
perspective is in part contingent upon the vitality
of its adherents and their ability to continue the
game of rationality.
What is the operational payoff of Rescher's line,
if any? He states it as follows:
It is not only possible but appropriate at once to
work out what is the appropriate answer to philosoph?
ical problems?as best we can determine it "from
where we sit"?and nevertheless to recognize that
other solutions are available and need to be reckoned
with.31
One may still wonder why Rescher thinks that
this state of affairs is not to be lamented. The
answer, fittingly, is that the proliferation of disag?
reement is the source of variety in the cultural idea
pool. Argumentation prevents the stagnation that
orthodoxy brings. Negative consensus has the
effect of continually pushing the philosophical sur?
vivors to the fore. The net result is that not only
do we accumulate rejected theories, we select the
fittest ones for further scrutiny. The "fitness" of a
 PROGRESS IN PHILOSOPHY 45
philosophical theory is, in a sense, the measure of
the objectivity ofthat mode of philosophical reason?
ing. Nevertheless, the fact that free philosophical
inquiry tends to counteract, by way of its agonism,
the forces of dogmatism within a culture, is still
an epiphenomenon of such inquiry. Individual phi?
losophers who attempt to take this as their private
goal would be no more than polemicists. Hence,
it may be a mistake to see this agonism in opera?
tional terms. Individual philosophers must address
the question of why the prevention of dogmatism
is to be desired; doing so will commit them to
inquiry again.
Perhaps the important point is that numerous
positions should be recognized as having some
legitimate validity, not merely as logical pos?
sibilities but as inhabited places, if you will allow
the metaphor. A perspective is only interesting if
it is someone's. Objectivity requires the recognition
of and respect for other inquiring agents.
The "rightness" of a theory is not the extent to
which it excludes other theories. The peculiarity
of this sort of objectivity lies in the fact that incom?
patible views may have equal and legitimate claims
to our attention. There is nothing peculiarly philo?
sophical about this; it has been known for a long
time in literary criticism and historical analysis. It
has begun to be recognized in mathematics and in
the hard sciences. Perhaps the lesson of these
diverse inquiries of the twentieth century will be
seen by posterity as the realization that cognitive
pluralism does not entail nihilism.
For the last time, we ask "Is there progress in
philosophy?" The answer is: Philosophy progresses
by its inability to produce consensus in the short
run, by its inherent instability, by subjecting every
theory to "unfair" criticisms (criticisms derived
from a different probative orientation), by pre?
venting permanent dogmatism at the level of the
individual philosopher, and at the cultural level.
The record of this progress is really the evolution
of objectivity itself. Given any problem in the phil?
osophical tradition, it is hard to avoid a sense of
development of positions, even amid frustrating
St. Joseph's University Received January 9, 1985
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inconclusiveness. That there are "aporetic clusters"
is evidence of a kind of progress. That the necrology
of failed arguments is so long is further evidence.
Having distinguished three kinds of progress, it
is appropriate to ask which kind applies to philos?
ophy, even though the answer has already been
implied by exclusion. I think we must conclude
that there is progress2 in philosophy. To recall,
progress2 is paradigmatically undecidable progress,
the sort where a final goal cannot be formulated,
and where intermediate sub-goals are likewise
without uniform criteria of success, but where the
sense of development nevertheless importunes. In
this respect, at least, philosophy is closer to the
arts than to the sciences. Having arrived at this
conclusion?that there is progress in philosophy?
the provisional utility of distinguishing the three
senses of progress is, no doubt, exhausted.
There is, among philosophers, a widespread
feeling that metaphilosophical speculation is
somehow faulty, of at least decadent. This attitude
of contempt is displayed, for example, in the fol?
lowing passage from Gilbert Ryle's "Ordinary Lan?
guage":
We run, as a rule, worse, not better, if we think a
lot about our feet. So let us, at least on alternate days,
speak instead of investigating the concept of causa?
tion. Or, better still, let us, on those days, not speak
of it at all but just do it.32
I oppose the view that metaphilosophical specu?
lation is a symptom of decadence; on the contrary,
I think it is its antidote. It is the mark of a re-dedi?
cation of effort to one of the most venerable of the
Socratic questions: How does the philosopher differ
from the sophist? If there is such a difference, it
is not, as Socrates knew, simply a matter of what
they say. It is in what they do. The sophists, ulti?
mately, were specialists in conversation; philoso?
phers may be this, but they are not merely this.
The Socratic answer still deserves our attention:
While the sophist merely speaks, the philosopher
seeks. That is how there can be progress in philos?
ophy.
 46 AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

NOTES

1. Nicholas Rescher's The Strife of Systems (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985) is one recent attempt to fill this gap.
2. Larry Laudan, Progress and Its Problems (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977) p. 13.
3. Ibid., p. 124.
4. Rorty, of course, sees himself as following through on the insights of Wittgenstein and others.
5. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, trans, by D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness (London: Routledge and
Kegan Paul, 1961) p. 5.
6. Ludwig Wittgenstein, The Blue and Brown Books (New York: Harper and Row, 1958; London: Basil Blackwell, 1958; reprint
ed. New York: Harper Colophon, 1965) p. 58.
1. Ibid., p. 46.
8. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (London: Basil Blackwell, 1958; reprint ed. New York: Macmillan Pub?
lishing Co. Inc., 1968), p. 49e (#133)
9. Ibid., #127.
10. Richard Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature (Princeton, NJ: University of Princeton Press, 1978) p. 3 (both passages).
U. Ibid., p. 5.
12. Ibid., p. 8.
13. Ibid., p. 371.
14. Ibid., p. 157.
15. Ibid., p. 377.
16. Robert Nozick, Philosophical Explanations (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981) p. 9.
17. Ibid., p. 19.
18. Ibid., p. 5.
\9.Ibid.,p. 13.
20. Ibid., p. 20.
21. Todd C. Moody, "The Objectivity of Transcendental Arguments," forthcoming in Metaphilosophy.
22. John Kekes, The Nature of Philosophy (Ottowa: Rowman and Littlefield, 1980).
23. Ibid., p. 6.
24. Ibid., p. 44.
25. Ibid., p. 115.
26. Ibid., p. 125.
27. Nicholas Rescher, "Philosophical Disagreement: An Essay Towards Orientational Pluralism in Metaphilosophy," Review of
Metaphysics, vol. 32 (1978), pp. 217-251 (see p. 219).
28. Ibid., p. 220.
29. Ibid.
30. Ibid., p. 226.
31. Ibid., p. 241.
32. Gilbert Ryle, "Ordinary Language," in V. C. Chappell ed., Ordinary Language (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1964)
p. 39.

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