Is This a Good Story?
On a question of observation that doesn’t replace metaphysics with empiricism but still tests it.
By what metric can we judge if a metaphysics or worldview is better than another? As noted by Dimitri in “The Net (24),” the moment we use the word “better,” we must be assuming a standard, and is this not a betrayal of a philosophy which doesn’t rely on presuppositions (as a true philosophy mustn’t, right?). Indeed, it might be, but at the same time we must use some standard by which we decide x is “more likely to be right” than y, yes? Yes, but we learn from Nietzsche how dangerous pragmaticism can prove, which suggests a danger in me even being in the business of “Phenomenological Pragmaticism,” a point I do not take lightly. Still, we require some kind of test, and for me a great question can be, “Is this a good story?” With this question, I hope to combine my concern with “the phenomenology of the artist” with my pragmaticism, and indeed I mostly came into phenomenology by taking seriously “the creative act.” To ask a question of aesthetics to determine judgment is, in my opinion, less likely to be captured by the socioeconomic order, as it is similarly less likely to fall into assumptions regarding “how things should be” (according to my ideas and values). The arts done well do not easily fit into political, economic, or collective projects, and so making our standard “aesthetic” strikes me as more likely to avoid corruption. There are no guarantees, of course, but I believe the chances are higher.
To ask, “Is this a good story?” is not egotistic, for a good story rarely if ever involves a single character. And we could be happy and it be at the expense of the story, for we could sacrifice effort and struggle for comfort, which we might erroneously define as “happiness.” All this brings to mind something I’ve called “The Story Test,” and in it I think we can see ways to judge the quality of a philosophy that isn’t ultimately utilitarian and pragmatic. Utilitarianism often suggests life is about happiness, but a story can be excellent and have nothing to do with happiness. Furthermore, I must decide what constitutes “happiness,” and I will easily define such according to consumption and Capitalism. If it is true that materialism can kill the soul, that means I might define ethics and morality in terms that worsen people’s lives — irony will abound.
We must always be at risk of irony, for risk is required if value is to be created, but there are better strategies than others, and judging life in terms of story is useful. Is there character development in the lives of the people around me? Is the church I’m part of facing challenges and overcoming? Am I changing? Have I ever left home? Have I made friends to join me in life’s adventure? Do I feel like life is an adventure or comfortable? All of these are questions I must answer, and however I answer them will then lead to changes in my life that I can then watch unfold. This is paramount: in “Phenomenological Pragmaticism,” I indeed observe and pay attention to what happens, but the point is that I don’t try to replace metaphysics with observation, but instead use observation to see how a given metaphysics causes life to “unfold.” So, for example: once I started living according to Hume, did I feel less and create less anxiety? Was I more able to see value in others? Was there less drama in relationships I was in? Was I better at avoiding conspiracies? Was I more confident in how I thought? Was I able to help others become more confident in how they thought? More questions could be asked, for a few key areas where I found it useful as a metric to judge if I was philosophizing too much or too little:
1. Relationships: Did they improve in quality?
2. Drama: Was there less of it?
3. Misunderstandings: Was there less unintentional misinterpretations?
4. Technology: Was I better to use it without being addicted to it?
5. Self-Deception: Was I more able to pay attention to the ways my brain tried to trick me?
6. Others: Could I see people live different ways of life and genuinely not think less of them?
7. Community: Could I enter into difference spaces and not feel threatened? Would others not feel threatened by me?
8. Improvisation: Could I respond to live situations in a way that improved them?
9. Beauty: Was I able to see more beauty in the world?
10. Less Fundamentalism: Was I better at not being closed-minded?
11. Mystery: Was I able to experience life as full of unknowns that were exciting versus terrifying?
12. Intrinsic Motivation: Was I able to find value in things and live for them without social support?
13. Boredom: Was I able to avoid it?
14. Self-Forgetfulness: Was I able to think of myself less and thus avoid pathology and neurosis?
15. Flow: Was I more able to enter into full states of focus?
16. Nihilism: Was I able to avoid it?
17. Lust: Did I do it less?
18. Envy: Did I appreciate what I had?
19. Pride: Did I think I was better than others?
And so on. All of these are mostly in an “I”-language, but it could easily be made a “we”-language where we simply ask if we see this in the people around us or not? If not, then there might be good reason to think that our “story is unfolding in a good way.” But perhaps we might counter and say that lust isn’t bad or that boredom is good, that my list here is arbitrary. And indeed, perhaps it is arbitrary: enact those values and see how “the story” unfolds. Regarding what you see — is this the story you want to be in? Is this the story others seem better for being in? Yes? No? The story is yours.
Well, if the final judgment is up to us, might it be wrong? Yes — philosophy is not in the business of escaping risk, and philosophy which has tried to be thus has caused create terror and pain. To escape risk requires totalization and avoiding difference, and this is what David Hume understood. We must judge and risk being wrong. That’s the story.
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