Following is the text of my talk at the Open Access Futures in the Humanities and Social Sciences event in London earlier this week, cross-posted from the London School of Economics ‘Impact of Social Sciences’ blog.
I’d like to start off by raising the question: what is research?
Perhaps we might be tempted to talk about “increasing the stock of human knowledge” as an influential OECD manual on research statistics puts it. Perhaps we might turn back to the etymology of the word, to the sixteenth century French word recerchier, “to search”: to search for truth, to search for better ways of understanding of the world around us. Perhaps we might invoke the metaphor of “the Republic of Letters”: research as a kind of a global conversation, whereby scholars from around the world build on and respond to a shared body of arguments and evidence about different matters of concern.
But perhaps all of these metaphors of quests for knowledge and scholarly republics sound a bit too grand when it comes to characterising what researchers actually do, what we are actually engaged in on a day to day basis. (If someone should ask us at the end of the day about how our contribution to the stock of human knowledge is going, we would surely assume that they were making a joke.)
On October 18, 1827, Goethe gave a tea party in honor of the philosopher Hegel, who had come to Weimar to visit him. Although each of the men genuinely respected the achievements of the other, we know from a first-hand report of the discussion that the radical difference in their basic philosophical positions emerged in sharp outline in the course of the dialogue. The poet’s deep distrust of abstract reasoning and the philosopher’s uncompromising commitment to such reasoning scarcely provided the basis for any real congeniality. Indeed, the only subject on which they discoursed with obvious mutual pleasure was that of the life and work of Johann Georg Hamann. “A great deal was said about Hamann,” reports Eckerman, “with respect to whom Hegel was chief spokesman, displaying a deep insight into this extraordinary mind, such as could only have arisen from a most earnest and scrupulous study of the subject.” In this part of the discussion Goethe played the role of willing listener, for in general he respected Hegel’s ability as a critic; in the latter part, however, Goethe launched upon a polite but nevertheless barbed attack on “dialectics,” an attack which Hegel accepted in good spirit, no doubt out of respect for his venerable host. The truth is that both Goethe and Hegel had important connections with Hamann; the former had been considerably influenced by the Magus in his youth through the mediation of Johann Gottfried Herder, and the latter was just then preparing to publish an exhaustive and brilliant review of Hamann’s collected works, a review which appeared the following year.
James C. O’Flaherty, Hamann’s Socratic Memorabilia: A Translation and Commentary (Baltimore: The John Hopkins Press, 1967), pp. 17-18.
In a recently published video clip of W. G. Sebald reading at 92nd Street Y in New York, he explains why he puts pictures in his books:
I put these pictures in in the first instance for my own satisfaction. But as I kept doing this I realised that conceivably they had other functions in the text which one could acknowledge. They hold up the flow of the discourse and, as one knows, as a reader one tends to go down this negative gradient with the book that one reads towards the end. Books have almost by definition an apocalyptic structure. And it is as well therefore to put weirs in here and there who hold up the inevitable calamity. 29:19-30:08
Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews has just published a review of Hamann and the Tradition (Northwestern University Press, 2012), edited by Lisa Marie Anderson, to which I contributed a chapter.
The following article was originally published in the April-May 2013 edition of Red Pepper (Issue 189).
Who can share what on the internet? There is an increasing awareness of debates around illegal sharing through high profile court cases and controversies in the news – through things like the Pirate Bay, Wikileaks, or the recent tragic case of Aaron Swartz. But what about legal sharing? What kinds of information should we be able to use and share with others as a matter of principle?
Posted in copyright, culture, edwardyoung, herder, history, ideas, intellectualhistory, law, legalhistory, open data, openknowledge, publications, publicdomain
In his On the Nature of the Gods Cicero alludes to Zeno of Citium‘s discussion of flute-playing olives and harp-bearing trees:
“If melodiously piping flutes sprang from the olive, would you doubt that a knowledge of flute-playing resided in the olive? And what if plane trees bore harps which gave forth rhythmical sounds? Clearly you would think in the same way that the art of music was possessed by plane trees.”
From Alberto Manguel and Gianni Guadalupi’s The Dictionary of Imaginary Places (New York: Macmillan, 1980):
SLEEPLESS CITY, in northern Nigeria. The inhabitants have the singular habit of never sleeping, and have therefore no idea of what sleep is.
The city is a particularly dangerous place for strangers. If a traveller should happen to overlook the local nocturnal custom and fall asleep – as he is probably accustomed to do at night – the natives, believing him dead, will proceed to dig a large grave and with great ceremony bury him immediately.
(A.J.N. Tremearne, Hausa Superstitions and Customs, London, 1913)
Denis Diderot explains how he can make marble come to life ‘whenever he pleases’ in an imaginary dialogue between himself and his friend Jean le Rond d’Alembert, mathematician and co-editor of the Encyclopedia.
In the following passage he has just informed d’Alembert, much to the latter’s astonishment, that he knows how to make marble have “active sensitiveness” like that which is possessed animals and people.
Next month I’ll be giving a paper at the upcoming The Philosophy of Walter Benjamin conference at Goldsmiths, University of London. Here’s the abstract:
In his 1917 essay “On the Program of the Coming Philosophy”, Benjamin wrote: “The great transformation and correction which must be performed upon the concept of experience, oriented so one-sidedly along mathematical-mechanical lines, can be attained only by relating knowledge to language, as was attempted by Hamann during Kant’s lifetime.”
In this paper I will look at Benjamin’s reading of Johann Georg Hamann, and how Hamannian themes shaped the development of Benjamin’s philosophy – in particular the turn away from philosophical reason (“the unnatural use of abstractions”) and towards a richer understanding of language and experience.
I will argue that Hamann’s account of the relationship between language and experience (including his reflections on what language is and where it comes from, and his broadening of the concept of experience from one predominantly focused on evidence to one that accommodates religious and aesthetic feelings) anticipates many themes in Benjamin’s philosophy – and that his style and writing strategy may also have exercised an influence over the latter.
Finally I shall close with a philosophical examination of their proposed re-evaluation of the concept of experience, and how this might contribute to contemporary philosophical debate.