Women in Philosophy
To continue with the "topical" posts:
Some of us on occasion remark on the differences in tone of philosophical exchanges between men and those between women. I confess that I sometimes fail to see what's going on in exchanges between men, and I'm sure the reverse happens, as well. And I often find myself blaming gender for frustrations with philosophical discourse. Yet I also tend to think that gender is not what I ought to be blaming--if I ought to be blaming anything at all--, but something like cognitive styles, which vary along lines that correlate with, without being equivalent to, those of gender. Whether gender itself is a social construction or contains natural kinds is not terribly interesting to me; I would prefer to avoid positing anything external as far as possible. It may, of course, turn out that there is no other option if we want to make progress with respect to specific gender issues; but since I'm concerned with philosophy, and philosophy consists of conversation and thinking, I'm under the illusion that certain differences that fall within that domain don't need to be blamed but owned up to.
Earlier this semester, wondering if others had wondered about differences in philosophical method that tend to correllate strongly (but not exclusively) with gender lines, I found this post at Sappho's Breathing, which suggests that philosophical subfields are "gendered." Hence the title, "Real Men Do Metaphysics." It's a suggestive post, but the correlations don't match up with my experience. What might match up with my experience is a difference in method, regardless of subject matter.
What I mean by "method" must be combination of things, temperamental and cognitive. It's not clear where to draw the line between the two, or which can be rightly given "external" explanations and which cannot. For instance, women talking philosophy tend to be less careful of each other's pride; the interaction tends to be less tense, whereas men often tend towards combativeness. This difference is hard to internalize; it's difficult to think of it as anything more than "beyond one's control."
But combativeness often goes hand in hand with analytic method. Previously, I have referred to this as the "hunt-and-kill" method of philosophy and contrasted it with (what else?) the "gathering" method. Clearly, analytic thinking cannot be dispensed with in analytic philosophy. Nevertheless, I confess to having a preference for getting all the details onto the table before one starts analyzing things; and I prefer that analysis make the problem messier, not cleaner. To what extent these preferences are "gender-based" I don't know. But they are preferences that seem to be more "within one's control" than broader temperamental differences.
About the analytic approach combined with combativeness, Cleis had this to say: "I'm concerned that a primarily adversarial approach to philosophical argument alienates many smart women, who then turn their attention to other fields of study. That is philosophy's loss. I'm also concerned that philosophical talent is recognized most often when it's delivered in an aggressive package" , "The Brights and the adversary method" (no, one has nothing to do with the other).
The broad question I want to ask is, To what degree can the differences between the ways women and men approach to philosophy be ascribed to gender? Will the line be drawn at differences in aggressiveness and social hierarchy issues, or will cognitive differences also come into play? And if cognitive differences do come into play, should we think of them as gender differences? My worry regarding the last issue is that, as intellectuals with responsibilities to understand and make ourselves intelligible to others, there may be very good reasons why we shouldn't blame cognitive differences on (or for) anything.
It's possible, too, that my division of gender differences in philosophy into those that are "beyond one's control" and those that are "within one's control" is just an attempt to knock against the former with the latter, which may or may not be helpful.
Labels: Feminism, Metaphilosophy
posted by Blakely at
5:20 PM
7 Comments:
No accusations. I wasn't setting out to complain (this hasn't genuinely bothered me for awhile), just to take note of something that girl philosophers wonder at from time to time. (It's also a subversive attempt to get them to comment on The Web of Belief.)
Actually the number of female: male analytic philosophers blogging is nothing to the ratio of analytic: continental philosophers blogging. Whatever that means.
The thing about the "currency of confidence" (whatever that exactly is) is that it cuts both ways. The conferral of respect is clearly a good and desirable thing, but if one must be very confident in order to obtain it, mixed feelings ensue in those who are less confident.
So much for the phenomenology of philosophy discussions.
Hi Richard,
The point about motivation seems exactly right. It's easy to get caught up wondering why someone asks a certain question, and therefore not proceed with the line of thought it initiates. I tend to think: either there's something I don't know, or I should be suspicious. There's definite resistance to importing someone else's agenda.
Short of some extra knowledge about the subject at hand, though, it is hard to see what about what makes a philosophical question interesting could be conveyed. Nothing else but experience, that is; or possible experience.
Maybe it's fortunate that dispositions like these do lead to philosophical views. (Even if they aren't the best-liked views around.)
My concern is that people are understanding sincere expressions of disgreement as instances of "combativeness." Of course, many times philosophers fail to take the time to understand someone else's position, and therefore what they say against it will seem combative. But we are all stuck inside our individual epistemic frames of reference. If something doesn't make sense to us, then there is no other remedy, assuming we are after agreement grounded by truth, than expressing why it doesn't make sense to us. That doesn't need to mean "self-assertion," because the latter to me implies a use of rhetoric in lieu of rational argument. Frankly, I don't see much of that in good analytic philosophy.
Disagreement is not necessarily combative. (Lots of things can be combative.) Nor does sincerity clearly have much to do with it, nor "self-assertion" imply rhetoric. (It implies... assertiveness.)
There can in analytic philosophy be an air of hostility that can (though it need not always) distract from the actual topics of conversation.
But what Richard noted was more to the point of my concerns--: philosophical conversations, and whole subfields of philosophy, have presuppositions. Oftentimes I think we're not even aware that they exist. It can be hard to articulate disagreement with premises that are not acknowledged, though it's something we learn to do better over time. This may not be related to gender at all, or it may be, if needing to know motives in order to follow a line of thought is gender-related.
Blakely said. . .
"self-assertion" [doesn not] imply rhetoric. (It implies... assertiveness"
But why is this a problem, unless it is done in a completely indulgent way that detracts from the content of the assertions? Personally, I think a little more stylistic indulgence would make analytic philosophy a lot more interesting to read (my graders, apparently, disagree with me).
"It can be hard to articulate disagreement with premises that are not acknowledged, though it's something we learn to do better over time."
Fair enough. I guess I personally try, undoubtedly unsuccessfully, to integrate the "gathering" of unacknowledged premises into the actual argument / analysis. The problem is you end up with the opposite vice . . too much stage setting and not enough positive argument . . . My Professors have tended to train me away from that. . . but that may be part of the problem.
I was just struggling to find graceful ways to respond to the question "Why do you think that?" (e.g. "Why do you think those instances of assertiveness are hostile?" --or, better, "Why do you perceive them that way?") And failing to find any.
Hello interesting stranger:
Thanks for the comment. I would hesitate, however, to jump to the comparison you make between philosophy and mathematics (or science, for that matter). One thing I was assuming was that there is no clearly successful philosophical method. (Even among currently practicing philosophers, it seems like very few approach their subjects in exactly the same way, or handle discussion in the classroom in the same way.) It's also true that I'm primarily concerned (as far as this topic goes) with the way discussion is handled and not with the way ideas are treated, say, on paper. And it's not entirely clear that the success of any discipline need be tied to a specific method of classroom intruction.
I also think there are good reasons why philosophy needs to be tolerant of different methodologies, because of the special kind of thing philosophy is. It is questionable whether proofs can be made or evidence assembled in philosophy in the same way as in mathematics or science. Except in logic, it is not so clear when things are proven, or how to analyze the data. And though this may lead (obviously) to more room for dispute, it also suggests that the work of philosophy consists not in assembling proofs or data but in--I submit--finding new ways of looking at things; which goal demands that we tolerate various philosophical methods, and perhaps also methods of classroom instruction.
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