Monday, July 21, 2014

155. Scepticism, relativism and conservatism in Montaigne

If truths and values are relative, in a variety of views, each with an individual claim to validity, without a basis for claiming one view to be better than another, is there still anything to commit oneself to, to fight for? Or does one shrug and comply with the powers that be?

Montaigne was a sceptic and a relativist, to some extent.[1] He was committed to humanist sympathy with others and abhorred the excesses of violence in his time (the religious wars in 16th century France). Yet he feared what he saw as the even worse excesses of sedition and revolt. He preferred continuity and peace to mutations, revolutionary change. He feared that revolution would yield unforeseen disasters, the next tragedy of good intentions gone sour.

He was a moderate conservative, arguing that there are good reasons for the existing political and cultural order. It had not arisen for nothing. He did not believe in any absolute underlying value or validity, and his compliance with the established political order was ironic, dispassionate and purely formal. He went along not out of conviction but to preserve the peace.

I sympathise, in part, with the conservative argument. Given the complexity of social systems, which emerge rather than being rationally designed, there is a fundamental uncertainty of outcomes, and any intervention will indeed have unforeseeable, unintended and unwanted effects. Intelligent design is largely an illusion.

Also, from an evolutionary perspective, the existing order has survived the struggle of survival with alternatives, and can therefore claim some fitness.

However, the evolutionary argument is valid only if the existing order indeed has been and still is subject to the selective forces of competition with alternative ideologies. There lies the value of democracy. Autoritarianism is less adaptive. There must be freedom of rival views for the evolutionary argument to stick.

While Montaigne was occupied, obsessed, one could perhaps say, with his self, he was not indifferent or passive regarding society. He took on social responsibilities, e.g. as mayor of Bordeaux, but dispassionately, not sacrificing the integrity of his self, and trying to preserve his peace of mind.

How relativist is my plea for accepting, indeed rejoicing in imperfection on the move? Earlier in this blog I argued that while I admit that the moral and epistemic validity, and the meaning, of ideas depend on context and are subject to change, this does not entail relativism in the form of a claim that any judgement is as good as any other. Rival views may be incommensurable, yielding no points of contact for reasonable debate, but that should not be assumed too quickly. There are a number of common conditions for life and survival, and people are likely to have some common ideas as a foothold for some form of debate.

Hence in this blog I argued for a modest notion of truth as warranted assertibility (in item 104), and of  morality as debatable ethics (in item 118).

This stance is nihilist in rejecting immutable absolutes of the true and the good, but it goes beyond nihilism, as I argued in items 19 and 148 of this blog, in the commitment to achieve improvement, even when acknowledging that that also will be imperfect. And, with a bow to Nietzsche, that is not so much a duty as a fount of flourishing life.

There is something odd in Montaigne’s view that the existing order is imperfect but yet to be accepted, and rejecting change because it would fall into similar imperfections. Recognizing that all effort yields imperfection, one could still be on the move, trying to make improvements.
 


[1] Here, as before, I use Jean Starobinsky, 1993, Montaigne en movement, Editions Gallimard

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