The Importance of Unorthodox Narratives in Philosophy

Few reading the Blog of the American Philosophical Association would be surprised that the word, “philosophy” comes from the Greek, philosophia, meaning “love of wisdom.” Philosophers, then, are lovers of wisdom, but this love is articulated with suspicion, oftentimes disapproval, and above all––a relentless desire to reinterpret wisdom for the better.

Part of loving wisdom means being taken by the force of good arguments. It would ultimately undermine the integrity of the philosophical project to subscribe to a view because it comports with one’s identity with no regard for the soundness of the argument in question. Furthermore, it would be corrupt to attack somebody for holding an unorthodox opinion when the reason they hold it is because they are compelled by the soundness of the arguments underlying it. So-called “unorthodox” opinions exist, they are important, and they ought to be afforded respect. Yet, people fail to acknowledge this.

Take, for instance, Blaire White. Though not a philosopher, she is the paradigmatic example of the unorthodox opinion bearer. As a transgender woman, she is criticized for articulating conservative views of gender, sexual assault, and feminism. A considerable many of the criticisms launched at White, however, have little to do with the merits of the arguments she advances in her videos. Rather, White’s opponents are apt to either a) cast doubt on her conservative commitments given the prima facie incompatibility of conservatism with a transgender identity, or b) excoriate her for maintaining conservative views because progressivism purports to be the ideology that champions the well-being of transgender individuals.

Those who agree with White often tokenize her as the transgender conservative and those who disagree with her demonize her for being self-loathing, transphobic, and a traitor to the interests of the transgender community. While I am not sympathetic to many of White’s views, I am sympathetic to the fact that people constantly undermine the legitimacy of her unorthodoxy. I find myself, especially in philosophical circles, criticized for my unorthodox opinions for what I take to be “the wrong reasons.”

I am gay. People are right to make certain assumptions about me because I am a gay man. The assumptions that most immediately come to mind are that I have an affinity for those of the same sex and that I do not wish to be persecuted on the basis of my sexual orientation. But people also use my gayness to justify assumptions about my existence that are simply untrue––namely, that I am liberal.

As an aspiring political philosopher, I find this assumption to be particularly frustrating since I consider myself a libertarian. Colleagues learn that I am gay rather quickly, whether it is because of my bold outfits, my effeminate lilt, or my express disclosure of the fact. Just as quickly, however, they learn that I have libertarian leanings and they ask me questions that begin with: “But as somebody who’s gay, how do you…?”

I understand as well as anyone that human bias is simply inevitable. In his Truth and Method, Hans-Georg Gadamer contentiously argues that prejudice is an inescapable practice that cannot be ousted from analytic disciplines. Rather, to make this type of inquiry better, he argues that we ought to be explicit about what prejudices we carry with us as we interpret things (2004).

But there are simply some kinds of prejudices and assumptions that have no place in serious philosophical inquiry. A good starting point for exploring the kinds which are to be off-limits would be those that fail to take seriously the multidimensionality of human beings. To be sure, certain aspects of identity are interconnected as in the case of one’s being gay and not wanting to be persecuted on the basis of their gayness. But most aspects of identity are not. My being a youngest child is not sufficient grounds for believing that I adhere to a set of political values. To suggest such a thing would be patently absurd. Just imagine being chastised by someone who was convinced that your middle-child-status aligned you with the political ideology of Donald Trump. It would be frustrating, to say the least. 

The fact that I am a youngest child is as discrete and immutable a characteristic to my person as my gayness is, yet people are inclined to believe that I am a liberal because I am gay but not because I am a youngest child. I don’t necessarily fault people for making this association. The queer community does at least appear to be ideologically committed to certain principles. Liberals (understood in the context of the American conservative-liberal fissure––not in the context of the capacious philosophical tradition with its origins in Locke) tend to advocate for policies that cater to the interests of the queer community. Take, for example, policy proposals advanced by Democratic presidential candidates that propose making HIV treatment more affordable. On the surface, it feels acceptable to assume that individuals would have a predilection for the political interests that provide them with the most.

I can’t help but feel, however, that it is intellectually lazy to justify assumptions about an individual’s politics on the grounds that material provision necessitates political allegiance. This smacks of the dubiousness of suggesting that one could be justified in believing that a child favors their mother over their father because she gives them more. It may be that there are mechanisms outside of the scope of material provision that can be used to protect the fundamental interests of marginalized peoples. Regardless, I understand that these provisional policies matter to a great deal of queer individuals. And I am sympathetic to those who believe they are obligated to create solidarity behind ideals that they believe best serve the interests of the queer community.

But I don’t believe that this perceived obligation justifies reducing the intricacy of my philosophical commitments to the relationship they have to my sexuality. Even if my perspective harms the aims of the queer community at large, there is value in embracing unorthodox queer perspectives in philosophy. Though I am skeptical that liberal policy proposals will best serve the interests of the queer community, I strongly believe that my political philosophy accounts for the interests of the queer community though not by way of governmental assistance.

No matter the intentions of queer libertarians like myself, queer, liberal academics want those like them to be arguing for the existence of a state that will care for queer individuals through social programs and the enforcement of positive rights. I, on the other hand, do not want these things. I desire a political arrangement that allows individuals, no matter their identity, to pursue their unique plans of life without being obligated to or by any other person. Like my counterparts, I strongly believe that the political circumstances I envision are most conducive to a world where the queer community will be happy, flourishing, and above all––free.

Yet, the world I wish to will with the force of good argument is not the same as that which they wish to. As I said before, it appears as though my worldview is at odds with that of others who share in these slices of my identity. And if this is the case, don’t they have the right to try to change my mind so that their goals can be achieved?

Absolutely.

But I think it wrong to categorize the act of guilting someone with unspoken, unofficial rules about identity and ideological commitments, as an attempt to change one’s mind. Telling a queer libertarian that they are a traitor or that their beliefs ought to be revised because they do not comport with other aspects of their identity does not qualify as a sincere attempt to change one’s mind. At best, it is an attempt to shame somebody into saying that they believe in something that they are not convinced of in principle and at worst, it is an attempt to shame somebody into silence.

Even if my unique perspective runs contrary to the aims of the queer community, I strongly believe that my (and every unorthodox philosophical) perspective carries value. In C.I. Lewis’s The Ground and Nature of the Right, the philosopher famously characterized what he calls contributory value:

“Let us call the value assignable to any transitory experience not––or not merely––by reason of the quality it immediately presents but on account of its contribution to some larger whole of experience, or to life altogether, the contributory value of it” (1955, pp. 68).

Unorthodox opinions carry in them this very kind of value. Just as a single brushstroke in a painting seems to have very little value when taken out of the context of the whole painting, so too does the unorthodox opinion when taken out of its context in the marketplace of ideas. Every opinion has value in that it is a shard in the mosaic that constitutes the world of ideas––a world that would be meaningless if it lacked the diversity and idiosyncrasy that it has. As philosophers, we ought to embrace that odd perspectives like mine exist and love them enough to criticize them when they are fallacious or incomplete. And we ought to stop criticizing such ideas on the grounds that individuals must have ideological allegiances to groups on the basis of identity.

One might push back by suggesting that there are some brushstrokes that are repugnant and lack this contributory value, as would be the case with an electric green zigzag stamped across the Mona Lisa. Some opinions may be so repulsive that they add no value to the world. Even if this were the case, the opinions I hold are clearly not so. Philosophers like Robert Nozick have unequivocally advanced positions like mine, and he has been extended the courtesy of being taken seriously by other academics. These opinions are brushstrokes that have been institutionally recognized as––at the very least––important and worthy of consideration.

To my knowledge, Nozick was never asked to reconsider his controversial opinions simply because he was of Jewish descent. Why, then, is somebody like myself asked to reevaluate his ideological commitments primarily because they appear not to comport with his gayness? I welcome criticism of my opinions when somebody can offer arguments that take seriously the legitimacy of my views and the fact that I am steadfast in holding them not in spite of my identity but rather because of it. I hope that philosophers that I encounter down the road can start wrapping their heads around this reality.

References

Gadamer, H. (1960) Truth and Method. New York: Seabury Press.

Lewis, C.I. (1955). The Ground and Nature of the Right. New York: Columbia University Press.

Connor K. Kianpour

Connor K. Kianpour is a philosophy graduate student at the University of Colorado, Boulder. He primarily reads, writes, and thinks about liberalism, animal ethics, and the philosophy of humor. If you are interested in following Connor’s work or getting in touch with him, you may visit his professional website: www.connorkianpour.com.