SOUTHWEST PHILOSOPHY REVIEW
Vol. 33, No. 1
January, 2017
ARTICLES
MARK SILCOX
HOMO LUDENS REVISITED
PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS
1
CHRISTOPHER M.P. TOMASZEWSKI
INTENTIONALITY AS PARTIAL IDENTITY
15
CHRISTOPHER A. BOBIER
DEFLATING MOODS
25
SAMUEL ARNOLD
SOCIAL EQUALITY AND THE DUTY TO PARTICIPATE IN
PERSONAL AND POLITICAL RELATIONSHIPS
33
MATTHEW WILSON
IS EPISTEMIC PERMISSIVISM A CONSISTENT
POSITION TO ARGUE FROM?
43
DEBORAH K. HEIKES
ON BEING REASONABLY DIFFERENT
53
TORSTEN MENGE
THE UNCANNY EFFECT OF TELLING GENEALOGIES
63
DON BERKICH
THE PROBLEM OF ORIGINAL AGENCY
75
R. BENSEN CAIN
MALICE AND THE RIDICULOUS AS SELF-IGNORANCE:
A DIALECTICAL ARGUMENT IN PHILEBUS 47D-50E
83
ANDREW MORGAN
SOLVING THE PUZZLE OF AESTHETIC ASSERTION
95
LARRY ALAN BUSK
TWO WOMEN IN FLIGHT IN BEAUVOIR’S FICTION
105
R.M. FARLEY
THE SELLARSIAN DILEMMA: NOT WHAT IT SEEMS
115
GLENN TILLER
BEING DENIED: ANALYTIC METAPHYSICS
AND AMERICAN PHILOSOPHY
125
JULIE WULFEMEYER
REFERENCE-SHIFTING ON A CAUSAL-HISTORICAL ACCOUNT
133
ERIK KRAG
A NEW TIMING OBJECTION TO FRANKFURT CASES
143
PAUL CARRON
151
MONKEYS, MEN, AND MORAL RESPONSIBILITY:
A NEO-ARISTOTELIAN CASE FOR A QUALITATIVE DISTINCTION
ROBERT P. REED
MUST GOD PREVENT EVIL?
163
MATTHEW SHEA
THOMISTIC EUDAIMONISM, VIRTUE, AND WELL-BEING
173
SARAH H. WOOLWINE
CONCEALING DISABILITY: HORKHEIMER AND
ADORNO ON PASSING AS ABLED
187
ERIK W. SCHMIDT
TROUBLED TRADES: NORMATIVE INCOMPARABILITY
AND THE CHALLENGE OF UNIVERSAL MARKETS
195
BRANDON DANIEL-HUGHES
PEIRCE’S CONSERVATISM AND CRITICAL COMMONSENSE:
INSIGHTS TOWARD A MORE NUANCED THEORY OF INQUIRY
205
JOSÉ LUIS FERNÁNDEZ
BRIDGING THE GAP OF KANT’S ‘HISTORICAL ANTINOMY’
215
Editor’s Note
Congratulations to the philosophers whose work is represented here and my
thanks for their cooperation in preparing their work for publication. All articles
appearing here were presented at the 2016 78th Annual Meeting of the Southwestern
Philosophical Society, held in Corpus Christi, TX. Thanks to the conference organizers
and program committee for their work preparing the conference and selecting articles.
I want to acknowledge the financial support of the Review by Illinois State
University. Thanks to Dave Blair of ISU Printing Services, and Shannon Covey and
ISU Mail Services for their excellent work.
The 2017 meeting of the Society will be held November 2-4 at Baylor University
in Waco, TX. Paul Carron of Baylor University will serve as the local arrangements
Chairs.
- Todd M. Stewart
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© 2017 to the version appearing here, the Southwestern Philosophical Society.
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The Uncanny Effect of Telling Genealogies
Torsten Menge
University of Arkansas
What is the normative import of telling a genealogy of our present reasongiving practices? In this paper, I will focus on Michel Foucault’s materialist
genealogies in Discipline and Punish and The History of Sexuality, Vol. 1,
which attend to the social and material settings in which we act and give
and ask for reasons. A number of influential critics have interpreted them
as a critical evaluation of our reason-giving practices. But understood in
this way, Foucault’s genealogical project faces significant philosophical
problems. I will sketch a different account, arguing that telling a
genealogy can have an uncanny effect: It can disrupt our familiarity with
the everyday world by revealing to us the embodied norms that structure
our everyday activities. Once we recognize that our situation is structured
by normative demands, we cannot simply let ourselves be carried along by
found norms. Genealogies call on us to take responsibility for these norms
and to practically transform the space in which we act.
1. The Pragmatic Character of Telling a Genealogy:
Two Flawed Accounts
Questions about the normative import of Foucault’s genealogies have
been discussed at length. However, the debate has failed to produce
clarity, in part, because critics and defenders of Foucault alike misconstrue
the pragmatic character of telling a genealogy: They assume that its
primary point is to make truth claims about our present practices and our
attachment to them. We can see this by looking at two otherwise very
different readings of Foucault’s genealogical project.
Many philosophical critics have interpreted Foucault’s genealogies as
normative evaluations of our present practices.1 On this reading, Foucault
ends up with a negative evaluation because he shows how practices that
we took to be emancipatory are actually just new forms of social control;
the disconcerting upshot is that “power is everywhere and in everyone”
(Fraser, 1989, p. 26). While such critics usually find Foucault’s historical
analyses illuminating, they are worried that Foucault is reducing all reason
to power. This would either lead to an unattractive form of irrationalism that
would undermine Foucault’s own critical evaluation, or it would require
Foucault to adopt what Habermas (1987) has called a “cryptonormative”
stance, i.e. one which has normative commitments that it cannot make
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explicit, let alone justify.
Given the limited space, I will only mention two exegetical problems
with this reading: First, Foucault has often explicitly denied that evaluation
is the primary point of his studies. For example, in an interview from
1983, he says: “My point is not that everything is bad, but that everything
is dangerous, which is not exactly the same as bad” (Foucault, 1983, p.
231). While his genealogies certainly have “ominous overtones” (Fraser,
1989, p. 28), there are few if any explicit evaluations of the practices he
is analyzing. Second, Foucault rejects a notion of power according to
which power is imposed on rational practices from the outside and thereby
undermines any rational claim made by these practices.2
Colin Koopman has recently defended an alternative reading.
Disagreeing with the critics just mentioned, he suggests that genealogies
do not aim to “establish normative conclusions” about the practices they
study (2013, p. 90). While they have a role to play in social criticism,
it is only to provide factual input for normative reflection by offering a
diagnosis of the problems that a set of practices faces. A genealogy does
not show that practices are bad or unjust, only that they are “problematic
in that they demand our serious attention” (2013, p. 90). Using Foucault’s
own term, Koopman calls this effect “problematization.”
While Koopman is onto something, there are a number of
problems with his proposal. First, Koopman does not make clear how
“problematizing” can avoid evaluative commitments. Characterizing a
practice as “dangerous” or “problematic” seems to imply, at least, that there
is a risk that the practice might become bad or cause bad consequences,
and that kind of judgment surely involves evaluative attitudes.3 But more
importantly, I want to resist Koopman’s suggestion that the telling of
telling of genealogies by itself is normatively neutral. Koopman is right to
say that genealogies show that certain practices “demand our attention.”
To demand attention is to make a normative claim on someone. We need
to understand better how telling a genealogy can make such a claim and
what exactly it is that is being demanded.
As we are developing an alternative reading, it is instructive to see
that Koopman shares a problematic assumption with critics like Fraser,
Taylor, and Habermas. All of them assume that telling a genealogy
consists primarily in making truth claims about our present practices––
claims that by their very nature are impersonal and make a claim one
everyone. According to the critics, the genealogist makes evaluative truth
claims: Starting from publicly available facts about our practices and their
history, he establishes an evaluative conclusion that has normative import
for everyone (say, for example, that one should not incarcerate people in
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The Uncanny Effect of Telling Genealogies
prisons). In contrast, Koopman argues that the genealogist only makes
descriptive claims, truth claims about how practices and their problems
have in fact developed.
But neither of these readings adequately captures the pragmatic
character of telling a genealogy. To problematize, to render something
problematic, is different from simply stating a fact. A problem is
something that calls out to be solved or addressed, and so to problematize
is more akin to demanding that someone attend to an issue. Demanding
that someone attend to an issue, making something an issue for somebody,
creates a new normative requirement. Moreover, since something can be
at issue only for a concrete person with a determinate position in normative
space, problematizing is not an impersonal demand that makes a claim on
everyone. Instead, it is a second-personal call: It calls on us––those who
participate in the practices that Foucault studies––to concern ourselves
explicitly with those practices. Based on this idea, we can develop to a
more adequate account of the effects of telling a genealogy.
2. Uncanniness and the Legitimacy of Found Norms
Foucault provides a suggestive clue for how to understand the pragmatic
character of telling a genealogy in an interview he gave in 1983. There––
speaking about his genealogical project––he says that the task of
philosophical thought is to “describe the nature of today and of ‘ourselves
today’” (1988, p. 36). He further explains:
I would like to say something about the function of any
diagnosis concerning what today is. It does not consist in
a simple characterization of what we are but, instead––by
following lines of fragility in the present––in managing to grasp
why and how that which is might no longer be that which is. In
this sense, any description must always be made in accordance
with these kinds of virtual fracture which open up the space of
freedom understood as a space of concrete freedom, that is, of
possible transformation. (1988, p. 36)
In this quote, Foucault is spelling out the claim that a genealogy is a “history
of the present” (1977, p. 31). His explication raises three questions: First,
how can genealogies help us understand “what we are”? Second, how
does understanding what we are help us “grasp why and how that which
is might no longer be that which is”? And third, how does this open up a
“space of concrete freedom”?
Here, I can only gesture at an answer for the first question: For
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example, Foucault’s history of sexuality shows how the material practices
and concepts concerned with sexuality emerged and became central to
our present self-understanding. In the following, my focus will be on the
second question: How can telling such a genealogy unsettle the norms and
self-understandings in virtue of which we are what we are? The answer
is that by revealing the normative claims that an everyday practice makes
on us, the genealogy calls on us to take responsibility for the legitimacy
of those norms. I will elaborate this claim in the remainder of this
section, making use of Rebecca Kukla’s (2002) insightful discussion of
uncanniness and the metaphysics of normativity.
Critics of Foucault often assume that the material practices at issue
in his genealogies are normatively inert and violently intrude upon our
reason-giving practices.4 But as Kukla points out, this is a problematic
understanding of our everyday interactions with the world and with
one another. Human agents always already find themselves engaged in
meaningful activities within an embodied and normatively contoured
space. When we navigate the world in our everyday activities, we are not
merely engaging in causal interactions; we are recognizing and negotiating
the force of normative claims.5
This normative structure of the everyday world is not always
transparent to us. When we are absorbed in our everyday dealings, the
world is familiar to us and wears on its sleeve how it must be coped with;
consequently, it does not appear to make demands on us. Only when our
everyday coping is disrupted and we are forced to reflect on what made
it possible, we come to see that our world is structured by norms. For
example, many of us simply find ourselves as gendered beings who do
things as men or women (and who treat other as such). We experience this
as a brute fact about us and the world. It is only when our familiarity with
a gendered world is disturbed that we recognize that gender is not simply
a brute feature of the world but a complex social constellation that makes
normative demands on us.6
Once we recognize our situation as structured by norms, Kukla argues,
our relationship to it changes. The norms that govern the social world
are not like laws of nature that compel us as a matter of blind impulse.
Norms binds us only in virtue of our recognition of their normative
authority. This means that in order for us treat these social norms as
norms, questioning their legitimacy must be at least conceivable for us.
Thus, when we recognize that our situation is shaped by norms, we have
to confront the question whether these norms have a legitimate claim on
us. We cannot simply go on to follow the norms unreflectively, as if they
bound us independently of our recognition of their authority.
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The Uncanny Effect of Telling Genealogies
Kukla argues that this demand to take responsibility for the legitimacy
of found norms shows up in the face of the uncanny. While she imports
this as a technical term from Martin Heidegger, uncanniness is a familiar
phenomenon. We experience uncanniness when our comfortable dealings
with the normatively structured everyday world are disrupted. For example,
when taking on a new position as a professor, it can take a long time for
me to be at home in it, even if I know more or less what is expected of me.
Uncanniness reveals to me the way in which my situation is made up of
normative projects, and it forces me to thematize my relationship to these
projects. It creates a distance between me and my situation that makes
it impossible for me to unreflectively follow the norms governing the
situation. Stepping back from them, Kukla argues, I have to commit freely
to these norms in the sense that I recognize that they do not immediately
compel me. I have to take responsibility for their legitimacy.
Foucault’s genealogies reveal to us the embodied norms that structure
some of our practices. This generates uncanniness: It creates a distance
between me and my normatively structured world. For example, sexuality
might not strike us as a fundamentally normative matter––something that
makes demands on us––but simply as a given fact about us. But Foucault’s
history of sexuality suggests that our self-understanding as sexual beings is
not the recognition of a brute fact about ourselves, but a response to norms
embodied in our practices. Indeed, having a sexual identity is possible
only on the background of a complex set of social-material practices.
Once we recognize the normative shape of our situation, we cannot simply
let those norms carry us along; we have to consider whether their demands
are legitimate.7
This account fits well with how Foucault himself has described the
effect of his genealogies. Talking about Discipline and Punish in an
interview, he says:
When the book came out, various readers—particularly prison
guards, social workers, etc.—gave this singular judgment: “It is
paralyzing. There may be some correct observations, but in any
case it certainly has its limits, because it blocks us, it prevents
us from continuing our activities.” My reply is that it is just
that relation that proves the success of the work, proves that it
worked as I had wanted it to. That is, it is read as an experience
that changes us, that prevents us from always being the same, or
from having the same kind of relationship with things and with
others that we had before reading it. (Foucault, 1991, p. 41)
This paralysis should not be understood, as some of Foucault’s readers
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have done, as resignation in the face of the realization that the subject
is nothing but the effect of power relations.8 Rather, the paralyzing
experience that these readers are reporting is one of uncanniness. Reading
a genealogy of the very practices that these readers participate in interrupts
their familiarity with the world they inhabit as prison guards, social
workers, etc. It requires them to face the question whether these norms
make legitimate claims. Without being able to take for granted norms that
could guide their response, the result is a kind of paralysis.
This also means that the uncanny effect is not and cannot be based on a
negative evaluation. A negative evaluation could not generate uncanniness
because it would simply take the norms on which the evaluation is based
for granted (Blattner, 2005). We often do reject norms in light of other
norms: Take for example the traditional norm that only two people of the
opposite sex can enter into marriage. Over the past forty years this norm
has been challenged, with the result that it is not a constitutive requirement
for married people to be of the opposite sex anymore. This transformation
has been driven by other normative considerations, such as the requirement
for legal equality. But insofar as we were able to respond on the basis of
familiar norms, the transformation did not did not interrupt our familiarity
with our world.
3. Practical Transformation and Reasons for Non-Conformity
We can now return to the third question: How does unsettling the norms
that govern “what we are” open up a “space of possible transformation”?
I argued above that many of Foucault’s readers believe that the primary
point of telling a genealogy is to make impersonal truth claims about
ourselves and our present practices.9 For example, we might say that
Foucault shows that our current sexual identities are socially constructed
and that this construction serves powerful and pernicious interests. But
Foucault is rather ambivalent about the value of this kind of truth-telling
(McWhorter, 1999) and my account helps us understand why.
If I take a historical account to tell the truth about myself, I am
delegating responsibility for who I am or can be; I only switch one
authoritative perspective for another. I treat my subjectivity and the norms
that constitute it as given. A genealogy makes explicit the norms that
create the space for our self-understandings. But if norms have normative
force only in virtue of our recognition, we cannot take the genealogist’s
word for who we are or can be. The genealogy raises the question whether
these norms make a legitimate claim on me, but it does not settle it.
The point of Foucault’s telling a genealogy of sexuality is thus not
primarily theoretical. Rather, the appropriate uptake is quite practical.
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The Uncanny Effect of Telling Genealogies
This is why Foucault clarifies the phrase “a space of concrete freedom”
by speaking of “possible transformation”: the telling of a genealogy
calls us on to transform the space in which we act. Telling a genealogy
has a practical normative effect: It gives us reason to act, i.e. to resist or
transform our practices. But this reading raises an objection that many of
Foucault’s critics have pressed: How can the telling of a genealogy give us
reason to act if it does not make any evaluative claims? Consider Nancy
Fraser’s version of the criticism:
Foucault calls in no uncertain terms for resistance to domination.
But why? Why is struggle preferable to submission? Why
ought domination to be resisted? Only with the introduction of
normative notions of some kind could Foucault begin to answer
such questions. (Fraser, 1989, p. 29)
Without a normative premise, how could a genealogy call on us to resist a
practice or to transform it?
My response to this challenge is that telling a genealogy gives us
reason to transform our practices because transformation is an appropriate
response to uncanniness. This normative effect has to do with our
relationship to the norms in question, not with the contents of those norms.
Remarks that Foucault (1997b) made about gay identity illustrate this point:
In an interview with a French gay magazine, Foucault urges his readers
not to understand gay identity as the recognition of some determinate fact
about ourselves. To identify publicly as gay is not to live out some deep
but long hidden fact about oneself. Instead, it is (or should be) to commit
to a future-oriented project that develops new kinds of relationships:
Another thing to distrust is the tendency to relate the question
of homosexuality to the problem of “Who am I?” and “What is
the secret of my desire?” […] The problem is not to discover in
oneself the truth of one’s sex, but, rather, to use one’s sexuality
henceforth to arrive at a multiplicity of relationships. (Foucault,
1997b, p. 135)
On the basis of his history of sexuality, Foucault calls for inventing new
forms of relationships, new ways for people to relate to each other outside
of standard social institutions such as marriage. This as an authentic
response to uncanniness because it does not delegate responsibility for
what one does to some given fact about who I am or to the given authority
of social institutions. Contrast this with the project to open the institution
of marriage to same-sex couples while making no further changes to
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this institution and its norms. This move simply makes familiar again
what was rendered unfamiliar by the genealogy––we allow ourselves
to be carried along by the found social norms that govern interpersonal
relationships. We can do this without addressing or taking responsibility
for the legitimacy of those norms and it is therefore a way of covering over
the uncanniness generated by the genealogy.
In contrast, engaging in projects to transform our relationships is an
appropriate response to uncanniness. But our reason for transforming our
practices has to do not with the content of the norms that the genealogy
reveals, but with our relationship to these norms. John Stuart Mill makes
a similar argument when he argues for non-conformism in On Liberty.10
Worried about a conformist culture that discouraged individuality,
Mill argues that an experimental attitude is the appropriate response to
conformism.11 His basic idea is that resistance to conformity is valuable
because it challenges the default authority of custom:
In this age the mere example of non-conformity, the mere
refusal to bend the knee to custom, is itself a service. Precisely
because the tyranny of opinion is such as to make eccentricity a
reproach, it is desirable, in order to break through that tyranny,
that people should be eccentric. (Mill, 2002, p. 140)
Non-conformity in the form of an experimental attitude has value
independently of the content of a particular custom because by adapting
it, I take responsibility for the norms I follow. Along similar lines, the
telling of a genealogy calls on us to relate appropriately to the norms that
we have been following unreflectively. An experimental attitude towards
those norms––one that strives to transform the practices we find ourselves
in––is a way to do that.
Telling a genealogy can reveal how the situation in which we conduct
our lives is governed by norms. This raises the question of their legitimacy
and the appropriate response to this question is an experimental attitude.
Genealogy does not just provide the strategic knowledge necessary to
enact a transformation, as Koopman suggests. Nor does it simply hold us
to an already existing normative requirement to resist the practices because
they are morally bad. By generating uncanniness, telling a genealogy
makes what was familiar to us an explicit normative issue and thereby
requires us to actively take responsibility for the norms we used to follow
unreflectively. It makes it appropriate and indeed required to creatively
transform one’s practices and that, I submit, is an important normative
effect of telling a genealogy.12
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The Uncanny Effect of Telling Genealogies
Notes
1
Fraser (1989) argues that Discipline and Punish is a criticism of the
disciplinary practices that are used to fabricate and subjugate individuals as
objects of knowledge and social control. For Charles Taylor (1994), Foucault’s
studies provide us with a reason to resist our supposedly emancipatory discourse
about sexuality, for example, because they show that this discourse is itself an
insidious form of power. Jürgen Habermas (1987) argues that Foucault’s project
is a “total critique of modernity,” since Foucault believes that power pervades
even the modern human sciences which purport to produce rationally grounded
insights about human beings.
2
In an interview given in 1977, Foucault rejects a notion of power according
to which “power is bad, ugly, poor, sterile, monotonous and dead; and what power
is exercised upon is right, good and rich” (Foucault, 1988b, p. 120).
3
Allen (2010) discusses this criticism in more detail. In response, Koopman
(2013) has argued that Foucault characterizes the practices at issue as morally
ambivalent. But moral ambivalence does not mean lack of evaluation, but only
ambivalence about whether to evaluate something as good or bad.
4
See, for example, Habermas (1987).
5
Foucault builds on an influential Heideggerian insight here: When talking
about disciplinary power in Discipline and Punish, he is not suggesting that
we encounter power as a brute causal force, Rather, we engage in disciplinary
practices by recognizing and negotiating normative claims that are embodied in
social-material arrangements.
6
Whether or not we experience particular embodied norms as demands on
us depends in part on how we are socially and materially positioned. If I find it
relatively easy to conform to gender norms, their demanding character might be
less apparent to me. In that case, the genealogy can have its uncanny effect on me.
On the other hand, if I already experience gender as demanding (for whatever
reason), the telling of a genealogy might not have this effect on me. This follows
from the claim made above, that telling genealogies is a second-personal call; its
effects are not impersonal and agent-neutral.
7
Similarly, Karademir (2013) has recently argued that Foucault’s genealogies
engender anxiety by revealing “the historical contingency, performativity, and
heterogeneity of what is assumed to be self-identical” (p. 385). Anxiety (Angst) is
what one experiences in the face of the uncanny. However, I do not think that the
recognition of historical contingency is sufficient for bringing about uncanniness.
Telling a genealogy can only have an uncanny effect if I recognize that I am
already committed to these (contingent) norms in my everyday activities.
8
See, for example, McCarthy (1990).
9
That the genealogist is committed to some truth claims about past events
seems obvious to me and I am not going to discuss or defend this claim here.
10
See Davidson (2011) for a detailed discussion of this connection.
11
“As it is useful that while mankind are imperfect there should be different
opinions, so is it that there should be different experiments of living…” (Mill,
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2002, p. 132).
12
I presented earlier versions of this paper to audiences at the 2016 Pacific
Division Meeting of the American Philosophical Association and at the University
of Arkansas. I would like to thank those who discussed the material with me on
these occasions. I am particularly indebted to Rebecca Kukla, Joseph Rouse, and
William Swanson for their extensive comments.
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———. (1997a) On the Genealogy of Ethics: An Overview of Work in Progress.
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———. (1997b) Friendship As a Way of Life. In Paul Rabinow (ed.), Michel
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