I should make my intentions for Open Conceptual a little more clear. It isn’t just a blog. This blog is sort of a seed from which (I hope) a more concrete enterprise may develop. For that to happen, I need other people to be involved (and for other people to become involved, I need to demonstrate what Open Conceptual is).
It's primarily about managing ideas. I’m afraid that our ideas are in such a disorganized condition that I can’t even say "managing ideas" without causing confusion; I’m concerned that too many people live according to misconceptions and faulty assumptions; I suspect that most people assume that general problems of life are none of their business, none of anyone’s business, and that things tend to work themselves out in the end. We are ultimately responsible for everything that happens around us. Of course, certain individuals (and certain decisions made by those individuals) may turn out to be relatively larger factors – both positive or negative – but if we want to make any claim to care about what happens (i.e. if we want to earn the privilege of having our complaints and suggestions listened to), then some of our complaints and suggestions must address what our own responsibility was and will be, how our personal actions can be improved as a way of improving things overall.
The key to that is "earning the privilege of having our complaints and suggestions listened to," by taking account of our own responsibility. [This argument (especially in the paragraph below) is partly adapted from an argument in Daniel Dennet's Breaking the Spell: that people who don't open their beliefs up to criticism effectively forfiet their right to be taken seriously (as far as the beliefs are concerned) by people who do.] Some people may not have any idea of what to say or do, some people may not be sufficiently interested in a particular issue, and that’s perfectly acceptable. Nobody can contribute to every aspect of life; we can only be responsible for our own special areas of expertise and concern.
So it doesn’t bother me (at least not too much) that some people don’t seem to care about anything at all – that they make no effort to conceive an articulate, coherent position on any issue. What really bothers me is when those people expect their spontaneous opinions to deserve the same hearing as the opinions of people who've made an articulate investment in thier ideas. Some of the loudest complainers save their loudest complaints for people who take the time to think things through carefully: they don't claim authority despite their incoherence, they claim authority because of it. They don’t just try to persuade people towards a different position on an issue, which has been intelligently articulated and considered; they take the long-term position that any theoretical position whatsoever is a waste of time (as opposed to their own knee-jerk, disconnected, 'common-sense' opinions), or that the issue simply doesn’t exist in any extended theoretical form. Again, it’s acceptable if you don’t recognize an issue – maybe it lies outside of your experience, knowledge, or ability to recognize – but that isn’t sufficient reason to claim that it doesn’t really exist for anyone else either.
So by way of saying that, I now return to the notion of managing ideas – or as I say in my personal description, "developing and managing concepts for working, learning, and living more effectively." That’s simply an indirect way of saying philosophy. There are a few reasons why I can’t (or won’t) call myself a philosopher. [While writing this I've been perusing Experimental Philosophy, and I just read this statement from Edouard Machery about anti-empirical definitions of philosophy, which captures my attitude perfectly, albeit for different reasons: "But given what gets then excluded (very exciting stuff) and given what turns out to count as philosophy according to this definition (no comment), I am glad my work does not count as philosophy."] It means too many different things, none of which I actually am or intend to be – at least not exclusively. I sometimes transitively consider myself a philosopher, but only as defined in the terms given earlier: someone who develops and manages concepts for working, learning, and living more effectively, someone who manages ideas. I save the trouble by skipping straight to the definition itself. But then what does the definition mean; what’s an "idea."
Defining "ideas" has long been a problem in philosophy. I won’t attempt it here; all I’ll say is that when I use the term, I don’t just refer to ideas that we are aware of. For me, an idea is not just something identifiable or (so to speak) known. My use of "ideas" and "concepts" also covers all of the assumptions and conventions beyond conscious awareness. These can perhaps be foundational or structural, supporting our more explicitly known ideas; or they can be peripheral, intuitive, tacit; or they can be germinal and undeveloped – anything cognitive that effects (or has the potential to effect) our decisions, beliefs, and understanding. I have no doubt that I’ll eventually need to change this definition, but it’s the best (I think) for now – at least for my purposes.
That is where the confusion I was afraid of earlier may come in: if you think idea must be something particular, then you won’t begin to understand my reason for wanting to manage them. Some ideas have a particular, explicit, objective form; objective (consciously discriminable) ideas need to be managed as much as ambiguous ones. More precisely, objective ideas give us the means to manage ambiguous ideas, in the same kind of way that managing dynamic groups of people involves managing static rules. At the same time, managing static rules involves maintaining an active, attentive, flexible, and creative attitude.
Our ideas about ideas are where the management of ideas begins. You may not believe that this is something worthy of attention, but I do. It may seem that my earlier ranting about responsibility was an unnecessary tangent, but I seem to face an uphill fight to explain why we need to examine our ideas – not to mention the sources and effects of our ideas – much more deeply and carefully. "Why waste time doing that when there are already so many problems and opportunities that already need to be addressed here and now?" The reason is because the way we deal with problems and opportunities now effects what kind of problems and opportunities we’ll face in the future. This is what I mean when I talk about investing in ideas: if we spend a little extra time now, approaching immediate problems and opportunities indirectly, then we stand to lose less and gain more in the long run.
So my area of concern is not so much a specific area as it is a specific level -- or rather, a general level -- the most general level. According to the scale I work on, the environment is not a 'big' problem, suicide bombers are not a big problem, nuclear arms are not a big problem, globalization is not a big problem (or a big opportunity either), innovation is not a big problem: the ways we approach these problems are actually much bigger than the principle issues themselves. (This may not seem feasible to many people. I'm not even sure that it is myself, but it feels like a possibility, and it's a possibility that keeps drawing me forward. I'll elaborate on this in future posts.)
We could argue about this endlessly. In the end it comes down to individual perspectives – a matter of personal experience and concerns, which I referred to earlier. These bigger-big problems and opportunities are what I’m attracted to; these are the issues I feel are important; these are the matters that seem to challenge my strengths. This is why I feel it’s important to learn how to more effectively manage ideas: simply because that’s what I feel, and have continued to feel after years of doubting it and trying other approaches. I may never convince you, but you most certainly will never convince me.
But I should point out, while our interests and concerns are a matter of personal circumstance, and may perhaps never be convincingly accounted for, my concern is foremost about making these kinds of ambiguous differences more objectively accountable. In other words, while I assume for now that our positions are perhaps irreconcilable, I am nevertheless actively taking responsibility for improving the way we conceive and communicate these kinds of things. This general (or, if you want to be more technical, hermeneutic) articulation exactly what my work is about.
So, if five years from now, we both remain unconvinced of each others’ positions – despite all of my efforts to generate a more workable common vocabulary, background, conceptual framework, or whatever you want to call it – I can at least feel satisfied that I did what I could, that I earned the privilege of being heard, whether or not I actually was. Meanwhile, if you’ve done nothing but wait for me to come around to your position, then not only would I be satisfied with myself, I would also be satisfied not to give you any more of a hearing. If you’ve made no demonstration of responsibility or concern, why should I let you make any claim to them?
More importantly, beyond the notion of some "right to be heard" or "benefit of the doubt," thinking and communicating is a practice that needs to be exercised, or else it is lost. It’s the same as any other kind of practice. For example, I haven’t played hockey in about seven years, so I wouldn’t expect to go out with a team and be at game speed right away – it’ll take a few games, maybe even half the season to find my game. (Which, I should admit, was never great to begin with.) So if you’ve merely been sitting around on the same old beliefs and ideas for years, without even considering any kind of criticism or challenge, then I wouldn’t expect you to even be capable of thinking clearly about them and formulating any sensible response.
People who say that ideas are a waste of time usually seem to be ignorant that that itself is an idea. Meanwhile, they admit to not being careful about the ideas they have. Why should we waste our time listening? Of course you'd think that ideas are a waste of time, if those are the only kinds of ideas you're accustomed to. Everything is a waste of time if it isn't done with care, or if it's done excessively. Ideas can be over-managed like everything else.
Let's not underestimate the importance of the fact that everything we do is organized, founded, structured, driven, effected (or whatever) by concepts and ideas. Even managing ideas must be done with ideas. On one hand this says that managing ideas is a very complex task; on the other hand it says that intelligently managing ideas is absolutely essential. Obviously I can't explain it all with perfect clarity (largely because I don't understand it myself), but that's what Open Conceptual is for -- exploring, experimenting, elaborating, reiterating, refining, etc. There may or may not be any end to this project, but it's never too late to begin.
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