Baltimore 10 Miler, 2017

The Baltimore 10 Miler was held Saturday, June 3, 2017. The weather was perfect, about 64 degrees at 7:30 am, 70 degrees by 9 am, with only 3-4 mph wind. The race started at 7:30 am, with the runners crowded together in four successive waves (based on estimated finish time). I was in the third wave.

      There were 3,900 runners (1,539 men, 2,361 women). The course was quite crowded for the whole route. Water stations were set up intermittently from the 3 mile point to the end of the race. Police officers patiently controlled traffic at each street intersection.

      The race started and finished in Druid Hill Lake Park, near the Maryland Zoo. The course ran from Druid Hill Park, across an overpass above the Jones Falls Expressway, along Wyman Park Drive to Art Museum Drive, then onto Howard St., then left onto 28^th St, along 28^th St. to Greenmount Ave., then left onto Greenmount Ave., then up Greenmount to 33^rd St., then right onto 33^rd St., along 33^rd St. to Lake Montebello, then around Lake Montebello and back to 33^rd St., along 33^rd St. and then right onto The Alameda, then left and back down The Alameda, then right onto 33^rd St. and along 33^rd St. back to Greenmount Ave., then south on Greenmount Ave. to 28^th St., and then back to Druid Lake Park.

      Dave Berdan was the men’s winner in 53:47. Teresa Welsh was the women’s winner in 1:29:54.

      My finish time was 1:48:20 (which was better than I expected, because I was hampered by muscle strains, stiffness, and limited stride length throughout the race). Overall, I was 2395^th of 3,900 runners, and 30^th of 63 in the 60-64 age group.

      This was the first time I’d run a road race in a while. I think I know now how to get ready for the next one. I felt pretty relaxed throughout the race, and I’m looking forward to running better next time, hopefully.

Carl Wellman's The Language of Ethics

Carl Wellman is an American philosopher who was born on Sept. 3, 1926, in Lynn, Massachusetts. He grew up in Manchester, New Hampshire. He earned a B.A. degree in philosophy and political science at the University of Arizona (1949), and an M.A. degree in philosophy at Harvard (1951). He did a year of study at Cambridge University (1952) before returning to Harvard to earn his Ph.D. in philosophy (1954). He served as instructor at Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin from 1953-1957, assistant professor from 1957-1962, associate professor from 1962-1966, and then professor and chairman of the Department of Philosophy from 1966-1968. He served as professor of philosophy at Washington University, St. Louis from 1968-1988, Hortense and Tobias Lewin Distinguished Professor in the Humanities from 1988-1999, and Hortense and Tobias Lewin Distinguished Professor Emeritus from 1999.

      His publications have included The Language of Ethics (1961), Challenge and Response: Justification in Ethics (1971), Morals and Ethics (1975), Welfare Rights (1982), A Theory of Rights: Persons Under Laws, Institutions, and Morals (1985), Real Rights (1995), An Approach to Rights: Studies in the Philosophy of Law and Morals (1997), The Proliferation of Rights (1999), Medical Law and Moral Rights (2005), The Moral Dimensions of Human Rights (2010), Terrorism and Counterterrorism: A Moral Assessment (2013), and Constitutional Rights: What They Are and What They Ought to Be (2016). He has also published articles in such journals as Mind, Ethics, Philosophical Review, Journal of Philosophy, and American Philosophical Quarterly.

      In The Language of Ethics, Wellman asks, “What do ethical sentences mean?” He admits that the term “ethical sentences” may actually be difficult to define, but he explains that the kinds of ethical sentences he’s most concerned with are those that express judgments of value or judgments of obligation. (The term “ethical sentences” may in fact be ambiguous, insofar as it may refer to either sentences that are used in an ethical manner or sentences that are about something ethically right or wrong.) So the question of what is the meaning of ethical sentences is also the question of what is the meaning of judgments of value and judgments of obligation. Wellman says that an adequate answer to this question should explain not only what properties ethical sentences have in common, but also how they differ from other kinds of sentences, how they may differ among themselves, and what kinds of purposes they may have.¹

      He describes four basic approaches to understanding the meaning of ethical sentences: ethical naturalism, ethical intuitionism, emotivism, and ordinary language theory. Ethical naturalism is the theory that ethical properties are natural properties, and that ethical sentences describe empirical characteristics. Thus, according to ethical naturalism, the primary use of ethical language is empirical description.² Ethical intuitionism is the theory that ethical properties are non-natural properties, and that ethical sentences describe direct insights of reason. Thus, according to ethical intuitionism, some ethical truths are knowable by reason, without the need for empirical demonstration. The rightness or wrongness of some actions may be known intuitively, regardless of the consequences of those actions. Emotivism is the theory that ethical sentences are not primarily descriptive, and that they express or evoke emotions. Ordinary language theory is the theory that ethical sentences have their own kind of meaning, and that they cannot be reduced to other kinds of sentences. Thus, according to ordinary language theory, ethical sentences are neither empirical descriptions nor non-empirical descriptions nor emotive utterances.³ Their meaning depends on the linguistic purposes for which they are used. The way to clarify their meaning is to examine their uses as instruments of language.

      According to Wellman, none of these theories (naturalism, intuitionism, emotivism, and ordinary language theory) provides an adequate means of understanding the meaning of ethical sentences. He therefore describes five basic kinds of meaning that ethical sentences may have: descriptive, emotive, evaluative, directive, and critical. Other kinds of meaning may also belong to ethical sentences, but investigation of these five basic kinds of meaning may be necessary in order for us to develop a better understanding of the nature of ethical language.

      Descriptive meaning belongs to sentences that tell us something about a state of affairs. Every description indicates or refers to some thing or things, and is about some thing or things. Descriptions may be of more or less generality, of which there are (at least) four kinds: universality, indeterminateness, abstractness, and applicability.⁴ They also presuppose that the thing or things they refer to actually exist (at least in some sense).

      Emotive meaning belongs to sentences expressing emotions that we feel or could feel. Emotive sentences are characterized by four main features: emotionality, expressiveness, indicativeness (although indicative meaning may not belong to all emotive sentences⁵), and partiality⁶ (they may express positive or negative emotions about or toward certain things, although this may not be true for all emotive sentences, and there may be emotive sentences that express neither positive nor negative emotions about or toward certain things). The strength of the emotionality of an emotive sentence may correspond to the intensity of the expressed emotion.

      Evaluative meaning belongs to sentences that express attitudes toward objects (things, or persons). Every evaluative sentence is about one or more objects, and takes some sort of position on the claim that the attitude it takes is the correct or appropriate one.⁷ This taking of a position on the claim to correctness or appropriateness may distinguish evaluative sentences from emotive sentences that express emotions but do not necessarily take a position on the claim that the emotions they express are the correct or appropriate ones.⁸ Evaluative sentences are like descriptive sentences insofar as they take some sort of stand on the claim to objective validity, but they are unlike descriptive sentences insofar as partiality (favorable or unfavorable attitudes) toward their objects is (are) at the core of their meaning.⁹

     Directive meaning belongs to sentences that direct us to do, or not to do, something. Every directive sentence is addressed to one or more agents who are called upon to perform, or not to perform, some action. Directive sentences presuppose that the agent(s) to whom they are addressed is (are) capable of doing as they are told.¹⁰ They also presuppose that at the moment they are spoken or written, there is still time for them to be fulfilled.¹¹

      Critical meaning belongs to sentences that modify, challenge, reject, or reaffirm the rationality of something. By making explicit the claim to rationality that may be implicitly made by someone or something, critical sentences make their own implicit claim to rationality.¹² The kinds of things that may be made objects of criticism include statements, actions, emotions, and attitudes.

      Wellman doesn’t mention, however, that the lack of rationality of something may not be the only grounds for ethically criticizing it. The lack of fairness, justice, prudence, practicality, truthfulness, honesty, etc. of something may also be grounds for ethically criticizing it. Wellman says that “To say that an action is right is to assert that its claim to rationality is justified; to say that an action is wrong is to assert that the claim is mistaken.”¹³ But there are other criteria besides the rationality of an action that may determine whether it’s ethically right or wrong to perform that action in a given situation. For example, a judgment that we have an obligation toward someone in a given situation may be motivated not only by rationality, but also by such principles as beneficence, altruism, civility, generosity, or reciprocity. The absence of these principles of ethical conduct may become grounds for ethical criticism.

      While judgments of value have evaluative meaning, says Wellman, judgments of obligation have critical meaning. He argues that value judgments are without descriptive or emotive meaning, and that judgments of obligation are without descriptive, emotive, evaluative, or directive meaning. But why can’t judgments of obligation sometimes express an emotional sense of obligation toward someone or something, and thus have emotive as well as critical meaning? Why can’t value judgments sometimes be judgments of the comparative rationality of various modes of ethical conduct, and thus have critical as well as evaluative meaning?

      He does explain, however, that a single sentence may have different meanings in different contexts (for example, a sentence may have descriptive meaning in one context, and directive meaning in another context). More than one of kind of meaning may also belong to the same sentence within a given context (a sentence may have both evaluative and emotive meaning within a given context, just as it may have both descriptive and evaluative meaning within a given context).

FOOTNOTES

¹Carl Wellman, The Language of Ethics (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1961), p. 8.

²Ibid., p. 25.

³Ibid., p. 130.

⁴Ibid., p. 174.

⁵Ibid., p. 205.

⁶Ibid., p. 202.

⁷Ibid., pp. 213-214.

⁸Ibid., p. 219.

⁹Ibid., p. 220.

¹⁰Ibid., p. 242.

¹¹Ibid., p. 243.

¹²Ibid., pp. 264-265.

¹³Ibid., p. 270.

Fragments

Philippa Foot rejected Kant’s notion that morality consists of a single categorical imperative by arguing that morality may instead consist of a system of hypothetical imperatives (Virtues and Vices and Other Essays in Moral Philosophy, University of California Press, 1978, pp. 157-173). But one problem with Foot’s argument is that morality may consist of not only imperatives (commands or requirements), but also permissions, prescriptions, admonitions, and prohibitions. These various categories of deontic modality describe the moral possibility or necessity (permissibility or obligatoriness) of a given action. A given action may be permissible but not obligatory, or both permissible and obligatory, or neither permissible nor obligatory. A more nuanced conception of morality than that of either Kant or Foot must therefore be sought.

What is post-analytic philosophy?

What does the fact that there are dictionaries of philosophy say about philosophy?

To what extent do we write ourselves into being? Can we each have a written as well as spoken identity? What happens to our concepts of ourselves when we cannot write? To write ourselves into being may also be to write ourselves into history. We may construct ourselves by writing about ourselves, and our histories may be written as well as unwritten (spoken or acted out).

Kinds of power include political, military, economic, social, legal, legislative, judiciary, executive, electoral, penal, disciplinary, coercive, rhetorical, persuasive, and dramatic power.

Is an opinion about things as important to philosophy as it is to social criticism? Do opinionated people make the best philosophers?

Politics may teach us that “seeing” (injustice, inequity, social dysfunction, or our own economic insecurity) is somehow “believing” (in a particular political party, agenda, candidate, regime, or system of power). But religion may teach us that “believing” (in a supernatural being or divine power) is somehow “seeing” (ultimate reality).

“Dis/advantage” may symbolize the fine line between advantage and disadvantage, just as “dis/appearing,” “dis/approving,” and “dis/arranging” may symbolize the fine line between appearing and disappearing, approving and disapproving, and arranging and disarranging.

Irruption/eruption/interruption/disruption/       abruption may signify a breach, a rupture, an outburst, even an act of violence, but also an emergence, a bringing forth, a beginning and simultaneous ending.

Whenever I visit the Eisenhower Library at Johns Hopkins, I go directly to the philosophy section on level B (two levels below the ground floor). My mission is usually to find an interesting book to read or to find some book that I’ve already read about and found in the library catalogue. The philosophy section consists of about a dozen double rows of metal shelves filled with books from floor to ceiling. There are two rows of desks separating the philosophy section from the religion section. Each desk is enclosed by a wooden partition, with a sign above it saying THIS IS AN ASSIGNED WORKSTATION. IF YOU ARE NOT ASSIGNED TO THIS WORKSTATION, PLEASE USE ONE THAT IS NOT ASSIGNED. But there are no unassigned work stations, so in order to sit down, I have to break the rules. I have to become a kind of trespasser. But of course all the desks are usually empty, unless there’s an examination period scheduled for semester courses and students are studying at the library. Most of the time, I can choose whatever desk I want. The padded chair in front of each desk is so dusty, however, that regardless of which one I choose, I have to slap the seat several times and wait for the dust to clear before I can sit down. Then I’m able to ask myself, “”In what way, and for whom, is my engagement in philosophy an act of trespass? On whose terrain am I trespassing? Does engaged philosophy necessarily entail a kind of trespass? Must we all be trespassers in one way or another in order to engage in philosophy?”

Conference on Race, Recognition and Respect, Johns Hopkins University, April 8, 2017

I had the good fortune to be able to attend a philosophy conference at Johns Hopkins today, and to meet some distinguished philosophers. The conference was sponsored by the Department of Philosophy and the Center for Africana Studies. Below are some photos.

Falguni Sheth, speaking eloquently about "Race, Vulnerability, and Violence"

Charles Mills, delivering an enlightening, inspiring, and entertaining lecture on "Rawls, Liberalism, and Racial Justice"

Meeting Professor Sheth

Meeting Professor Mills

What is Lived Theology?

The term “lived theology” may be definable in so many ways that no single definition may be adequate. Lived theology may be a philosophical or practical theology. It may be a moral, ethical, pastoral, ecumenical, or political theology, It may be a theological aesthetics or theological hermeneutics. It may be a liberation theology, resistance theology, reconciliation theology, or some other kind of social theology.

      Perhaps instead of trying to answer the question, “What is lived theology?”, we each should try to answer the question, “What does it mean to live my theology?” We each may need to ask ourselves: Am I living my theology? Do my actions reflect my theology? Is my theology dying or dead, or is it a living thing? Do I believe in a living God? How am I living my faith?

      We may also have to distinguish between theology as dogma or doctrine and theology as daily practice or social action. We may at some point have to think about our own lives differently, and think about theology differently. If we say that God is love, and that we believe in a theology of love, then we each may have to ask ourselves: Am I trying to love others in the same way that God loves each of us? Am I showing love and understanding toward others in the same way that God shows love and understanding toward each of us?

      Lived theology is not something that can be done merely individually; it must be done collectively. To really live theology, we cannot merely act as individuals, we must live our theology as members of a (spiritual, religious, vocational, or social) community.

      Perhaps we should also distinguish between “living theology” (or expressing in our daily lives what we believe about God) and “living theologically” (or acting according to a rule book or set of doctrines). The phrase “living theology” may also have different meanings, depending on whether the emphasis is placed on the word “living” or on the word “theology.” Living theology places the emphasis on our daily actions and ongoing experiences, while living theology places the emphasis on our religious beliefs and convictions about the nature of God.

      Carl R. Holladay, professor of New Testament studies at Emory University Candler School of Theology, explains that “living our theology…is inseparable from having and doing theology.” We cannot really have a theology without living and doing that theology.  When we do theology, we are putting our faith into action. Lived theology is faith in action.¹

      David Dark, professor of religion at Belmont University College of Theology, answers the question “What is Lived Theology?” by saying, “One would think that the “lived” in “lived theology” would in some sense be redundant. But we have our world so divided up, and our God-talk so divided up from our actual lived commitments, that the term “lived theology” ends up being a very helpful provocation.”²

       Charles Marsh, professor of religious studies at the University of Virginia, explains that lived theology as a subject of theological writing, research, and teaching examines the impact of our daily experiences on our theological beliefs and practices. Lived theology may be a unique way of understanding how we feel God’s presence in our lives^.3

     Insofar as “living” means “living in a body,” “lived theology” means theology lived in a body (or through the body as a medium of experience) or embodied theology. The corporeality of lived theology anchors it in daily experience. It cannot be merely a spiritual practice; it must also be social and communal.

      Insofar as theology is a mode of discourse about God, the discursivity of lived theology may be expressed by our capacity to communicate (e.g. by speech or writing) through our daily actions our thoughts and feelings about God.

FOOTNOTES

¹Carl R. Holladay, A Critical Introduction to the New Testament: Interpreting the Message and Meaning of Jesus Christ (Nashville: Abington Press, 2005), p. 10.

²David Dark, “What is Lived Theology?", The Project on Lived Theology (Sept. 4, 2015), online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3Fnf__Ea10.

³Charles Marsh, “Lived Theology: Method, Style, and Pedagogy,” in Lived Theology: New Perspectives on Method, Style, and Pedagogy, edited by Charles Marsh, Peter Slade, and Sarah Azaransky (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), pp. 6-7.