Last Friday I had the fortune of returning to my alma mater, Mississippi State University, to deliver a talk on how my study of philosophy (and religion) affects my life and scholarship. There were four other alumni returning to give similar talks. Yolanda Estes, current professor at MSU and Univ. of Kentucky Ph.D., gave the final talk of the day. While not on the technical side, these talks were designed to be accessible to the public and to provide an honest look at how professional philosophers understand scholarship and how it affects their lives. I bring this up because I want briefly to summarize the point of my talk because I think it is so important.
The gist of my talk is a point about the scholar. I maintain that the scholar (minimally) understands both sides of a certain duality. The duality is that between refutation, on the one hand, and following an argument where it leads, on the other. Although my point is more generally applicable, it applies especially well to philosophy.
Think back to the first Phi-100 course you took. Chances are you read several works on many different topics. The typical impression that results from such a class is the impression that there is no right answer. Take a look at Plato's theory of whatever. Aristotle refutes (a version of) if with his "third-man" argument. But Aristotle gets modified by so-and-so. That person in turn gets modified by... The process goes on and on. Students may get out of this, even against their prof's own wishes, the moral that all positions have holes in them and, thus, if all positions have holes then all positions are equal. What else do they get out of it? They learn several tools for refutation. They learn objections to every position they encounter. Oh, so you're a dualist? I have a problem for you. Oh, you're a physicalist, good luck explaining qualia.
Needless to say, this attitude is dangerous (remember the sophists?) and not an accurate impression of the discipline. But, and here is where I pushed the duality I noted above, the scholar does not just know all of the standard and non-standard "refutations" of all of the positions, she also has indulged in the positions. She has put on her physicalist-hat, or her dualist-hat, and seen what mileage the positions have. She has pushed these positions to the limit and seen what they can do, what they can explain. If, at the end of this process, she decides to give up on a position then that act is more significant than giving up on a position because you just learned it has a problem with causality, to take dualism for example. A scholar's rejection, as we all already know, counts for more than someone else's.
What is the proper balance? Of course one should not stand firm come what may. We can list the great philosophers who have given up on or modified their positions when it was called for. But we shouldn't be too quick either. We all know that general relativity won't be the final theory (so I've been told by experts). But we don't give up on it without a suitable replacement. We don't do it in physics, we don't do it in government, and we shouldn't do it in philosophy. The scholar is the one in a unique position to make that choice and be warranted in that choice.
In conclusion, yes, some positions can be refuted simply. Most cannot. However, most, nay, all, have some problem or other. But, not all positions are equal, and this cannot be realized unless one really gets into a position and sees what it can do. It is the scholar who is in the best position to do both.
[Anyway, that is a precis of the talk I gave. Any comments are welcome, of course. I can see something like this ending up as the introduction to an intro book, or something similar, sometime down the line.]