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1 December 2004 |
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When two hostile traditions independently arrive at the same solution to a given problem, it must be worth a look. In the current JCS, Dieter Teichert suggests that something like this may have happened with the problem of the self: it seems that both Anglo-Saxon analytic philosophy (exemplified here by Daniel Dennett ) and its Continental European counterpart (represented by Paul Ricoeur) have come to the conclusion that selves are constructed from narratives; that in the end, we are the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. Is the gap between the two traditions really so bad? As a philosophy undergraduate, I seem to remember affecting an airy lack of interest in continental philosophy, and I was not alone. It was alright to have read a bit of Sartre, but I remember the professor once remarking, without regret, “I’m afraid we don’t have anyone here who knows about Husserl”. In those days I took it for granted that French philosophy would eventually be recognised as merely a branch of literature, while its Anglo-American counterpart had rigorous intellectual standards at least as demanding as those of science. The metaphorical Channel separating the two traditions seemed unbridgeable. | |
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Teichert
actually doesn’t claim that Dennett and Ricoeur have identical views,
merely that there is no conflict. There clearly are some significant
differences in context and aspiration. Dennett is interested in causality
and clearing up the metaphysics of the self; Ricoeur is primarily
concerned with the self as a social and ethical concept. Both, however,
have concluded that the self is basically a narrative entity, and that any
attempt to give it a free-floating independent status is misguided. Both
are reacting against a Cartesian vision of the autonomous, directing self,
yet both would, in slightly different ways, stop short of bald scepticism
– the self may not be what we thought it was, but it remains in some
lesser sense real and well worthy of
study. | |
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I
think the general point is well made by Teichert, but inevitably one
eventually asks – is this interestingly shared view actually correct? The first point against the narrative self is perhaps its counter-intuitive nature. I certainly seem to myself to have a reality which fictional characters lack. I don’t think that if I stopped believing in myself, I should suddenly disappear; nor indeed is it evident to me that I am endlessly narrating myself – or anything. Above all, the idea that my biography is generating me, rather than the other way round, seems distinctly odd. It leaves us with the problem of where, in that case, the biography came from. | |
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The
easiest answer is to think of a way in which my story can still, in some
sense, be generated by me while at the same time it reciprocally sustains
my existence. There is an obvious risk of problematic circularity here.
Ricoeur, it seems, is unbothered by circularity, and actually embraces it. This is relatively easy for him to do, because when one is concerned primarily with social and ethical entities, it isn’t necessary to worry too much about their origins: if six people adopt a particular social practice, then the mere fact of their doing so makes it a reality. The fact that the process may involve some circularity doesn’t really matter. Dennett is in a more exposed position, since his metaphysical concerns and aspiration to scientific rigour mean he needs everything to have an appropriate cause, and cannot easily get away with things that pull themselves into existence by their bootlaces. His proposal is that we begin by narratising about others and develop a sense of self when we turn that habit back on ourselves. Recognition of other selves precedes the recognition of our own. This is a little strange, and may still seem intuitively unappealing, but it is not logically problematic. | |
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The
argument which (on the whole) convinces me, however, is best seen by
considering the intuitive appeal of the narrative self idea. As I’ve said,
the idea seems unlikely in some respects, but in others it undoubtedly
does appeal. One reason, I think, is that unlike some philosophical
theories, it can be stated in fairly clear everyday terms. Stories are far
from being unfamiliar metaphysical abstractions, and any explanation in
terms of narratives therefore seems a better explanation than one which
uses obscure ideas which themselves need some elucidation. The second
reason is that with theories along these lines we really seem to be
getting somewhere for once – they do seem to capture some of the mystery
of personhood. | |
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The
snag is that they may do so in an illegitimate manner. One of the key
issues about conscious thought is intentionality – how words or thoughts
can be about things. Stories, of course, are full of
intentionality, and by allowing them into our explanation there is a risk
that we are simply smuggling intentionality into our theory without
actually explaining it. I don’t think either Dennett or Ricoeur is
directly guilty of this kind of sleight-of-hand – both have
substantial things to say, either about intentionality or the nature of
narratives which (if accepted) fill the potential gap. Nevertheless, I do
think the tacit presence of intentionality subliminally contributes much
of the intuitive appeal to the way they invoke narrative. Without that
added appeal, the idea might look very much like a mere category
mistake. | |
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