In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A Spirit of Trust: A Reading of Hegel’s Phenomenology by Robert B. BrandomJacob L. GoodsonA Spirit of Trust: A Reading of Hegel’s Phenomenology. By Robert B. Brandom. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2019. 856 pp. $50.00 hardcover.What a feat: an interpretation of G. F. W. Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit that is longer than the Phenomenology of Spirit itself! With 757 pages of text, and reportedly a work that (...) took Robert B. Brandom over 40 years to write, A Spirit of Trust accomplishes much and offers an interpretation of Hegel’s Phenomenology that mixes epistemology, ethics, and the philosophy of mind.Hegel scholars will be discontent with Brandom’s heavily analytic interpretation of Hegel’s Phenomenology. Analytic philosophers will be discontent with attributing to Hegel arguments and insights often attributed to Frege (this happens so often one reviewer says of Brandom’s book that he should call Hegel Fregel—a mix of Frege and Hegel). Scholars of American Philosophy might be the most excited by reading Brandom’s A Spirit of Trust because he goes out of his way to put Hegel in conversation with Donald Davidson, W. V. O. Quine, Wilfred Sellars, and others who are part of the American philosophical tradition.Such excitement, however, might eventually be tempered when one realizes that Brandom is no defender of philosophical naturalism in A Spirit of Trust. Indeed, waiting until page 499, Brandom claims that the remainder of the book (another 250 pages) involves telling the story of how Hegel connects alienation with reductive naturalism. Brandom’s story involves developing a “nonreductive account of how we should understand the place of norms in the natural world” (499). Once we understand norms in a way that avoids or eschews naturalism, then we overcome the problem of alienation. Whereas Karl Marx blames alienation on capitalism, Brandom blames alienation on naturalism.In addition to the adjective “reductive,” Brandom offers three other adjectives for naturalism: “disenchanted” (see 263), “normative” (see 558), and “scientific” [End Page 97] (see 661–65). According to Brandom, the dominance of scientific naturalism is one of the reasons his interpretation of Hegel’s Phenomenology is required right now. Brandom thinks scientific naturalism has a stronghold on contemporary philosophy, and Hegel’s Phenomenology offers a corrective to this mistake in contemporary philosophy. Let us take each of these naturalisms in turn.1. Disenchanted Naturalism. Situating Hegel’s Phenomenology in relation to the problems Hegel wanted to address in his own day, Brandom claims: “Another strand of the early modern tradition that Hegel takes up and develops is the disenchanting naturalism about norms”—which is “most evident in the British sentimentalists... who give explanatory pride of place to practical attitudes of normative assessment, of reflective approval or disapproval by a distinctive moral faculty, which they see as... rooted in a characteristic sentiment, typically... benevolence” (263). Brandom admits that Kant also repairs the tradition of British sentimentalism, but one of the themes of Brandom’s A Spirit of Trust involves how Kant’s emphasis on autonomy itself gets repaired by Hegel’s focus on recognition. Hence Kant’s repair of disenchanted naturalism remains necessary but insufficient. On Brandom’s interpretation, Hegel’s theory of recognition properly repairs both disenchanted naturalism and Kant’s theory of autonomy.2. Normative Naturalism. Staying with Hegel’s repair of Kant’s philosophy, Brandom finds a version of naturalism in Kant’s thinking as well. This version is normative naturalism, which attempts to “integrate reasons and causes” (558). Brandom claims, “This project, broadly construed, is to provide a response to Kant’s Third Antimony—the challenge to integrate reasons and causes. A significant proportion of Hegel’s claim... should be seen as deriving from his response to this issue of normative naturalism. So the stakes are very high” (558). Brandom’s rhetoric here reflects one of the annoyances of the book: every problem driving Hegel’s Phenomenology is the most important problem driving Hegel’s Phenomenology. The stakes are always high, and Brandom does not signal to the reader any way to rank the problems Hegel addresses in Phenomenology.According to Brandom, Hegel repairs Kant’s normative naturalism by separating reasons... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Self-Culture in Emerson’s Schellingian Solution to FateNicholas L. Guardiano (bio)Professor of English literature, President of Yale University, and Commissioner of Major League Baseball, Angelo Bartlett Giamatti (1938–1989), delighted in saying that Emerson “is as sweet as barbed wire.”1 Giamatti understood the full range of Emerson’s thought, which spans the highs and lows of the human condition. Writings such as “Experience,” “Illusions,” “The Tragic,” and “Fate” demonstrate the transcending of (...) Emerson’s transcendentalism beyond any soft Romanticism or naïve idealism. They consistently assert the reality of antagonistic forces pervading human experience and nature. “The Tragic” opens with the lines: “He has seen but half the universe who never has been shown the House of Pain. As the salt sea covers more than two thirds of the surface of the globe, so sorrow encroaches in man on felicity” (CW 10:334).2 “Fate” similarly insists: “We cannot trifle with this reality [of fate], this cropping-out in our planted gardens of the core of the world. No picture of life can have any veracity that does not admit the odious facts” (CW 6:11; my emphasis). Emerson was made intimately aware of the House of Pain by his own personal hardships. To name only a few, there was the death of his first wife Ellen at age 19 from tuberculosis, a rheumatic eye disease that left Emerson nearly blind for months, the terrible loss of his five-year old son Waldo to scarlet fever, the untimely deaths of his two brothers Charles and Edward in their 20s, a fire that partially destroyed the Emerson family home, and the inexorable mental decline into aphasia afflicting Emerson in his final years. Emerson further bore sympathetic witness to the hardships of his friends, family, and community. In addition, he lived through the national crisis of the American Civil War, and was a committed abolitionist willing to face head on the real evils of slavery. These experiences and others were a discipline in the tragic [End Page 28] constitution of the world. Furthermore, they provided hints on how to make one’s way through it.3In this essay, I aim to do some justice to Emerson’s mature transcendentalism by examining his metaphysical-ethical co-principles of fate and freedom, or necessity and power. These co-principles are the central topic of the essay “Fate,” which appeared as the opening chapter of the book The Conduct of Life (1860). There, Emerson somewhat paradoxically admits both principles as opposing forces, and attempts to show their compatibility using a Schellingian dialectic. After presenting Emerson’s understanding of fate and an interpretation of his metaphysical solution to it, I follow up on the primary ethical concern that opens the essay and book, namely “How shall I live?” (CW 6:1). To that end, I attempt to flesh out the ethical character of a life that embraces fate in terms of an Emersonian project of self-culture. My methodological approach throughout evolves progressively from the interpretation to the expansion of Emerson’s ideas. Its first section examines his philosophy as an offshoot of the world-historical line of thought extending from Plato to the Neoplatonists, Eriugena, Spinoza, Goethe, and Schelling, among others. Later philosophers, scientists, and artists who took inspiration from Emerson’s transcendentalism, including Charles Peirce, the Hudson River School painters, Wallace Stevens, and Loren Eiseley, follow the same intellectual trajectory.4 Further taking up the torch, my second section creatively amplifies Emerson’s insights for an ethics of self-culture, and in this way argues for the truth of his Schellingian form of freedom.I. The Problem and Its SolutionFor Emerson, fate is real. It consists in the “immovable limitations” and necessary “laws of the world” (CW 6:2). These limits or laws occur in the conduct of life not so much as theoretical abstractions or remote chains of efficient [End Page 29] causality but as impositions on our will, both from within and without. On the one hand, we are confronted by the rough and tumble of nature, the outside environment in which we live. Serious in Emerson’s nineteenth century and remaining so today are... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Śaṅkara, Tillich, and Abhinavagupta’s Use of “God” as a Peircean Index to the Ground of Being and Depths of NatureGreylyn Robert Hydinger (bio)I. IntroductionThis article argues that the sign “God” can function as a Peircean index to, not an icon of, the ground of being or depth dimension of existence. The ground and any generic traits of existence that the ground grounds would be the content of the symbol, (...) the object to which the indexical symbol points. Paul Tillich argued that (good) theology employs the “method of correlation,” highlighting the “independence and interdependence of existential questions and theological answers.”1 This article presents an answer to two vitally important questions about religious naturalism posed by Dan Ott, LeRon Shults, and Demian Wheeler: (1) must theology be theistic, and (2) what content can the concept of “God” have in naturalism?2 Succinctly, the answers are, “no,” and the content meaning of the sign “God” in a religious naturalism should be the ground of being and the depths of nature.To support these answers, the article builds on a Peircean semiotic theory and compares the theologies of Adi Śaṅkara and Paul Tillich, with a strong appeal to Abhinavagupta; this comparison provides evidence that supports the hypothesis that a determinate symbol like “God” can be used and has been used to refer to an indeterminate, non-personal, naturalistic ground of being. Therefore, theology need not be iconically theistic. In Peircean terms, these philosophical theologians all claim that the sign “God” (Sanskrit: Īśvara, Nārāyaṇa, or Parameśvara; also, Kṛṣṇa or Śiva) stands, in one or perhaps several respects, for the object (“the Ground of Being” or “nirguṇa Brahman”) to an interpreter without implying that the object of interpretation is like the sign that points to it. All three of these philosophical theologies avoid the personal, agential being understanding of [End Page 60] “God” that is so frequently and justly the object of religious naturalist critique. The argument of the article is thus very simple on Peircean grounds, so long as the ground-of-being case studies do in fact illustrate the use of God as an index to the ontological ground of nature. The first part of the article, therefore, provides a semi-detailed discussion of Peirce’s semiotics; the second part demonstrates how Tillich, Śaṅkara, and Abhinavagupta have employed theistic symbols to engage the naturalistic ground of being.Two additional hypotheses undergird this inquiry as “premises.”3 First, naturalism can be a legitimate and important constraint on theological inquiry or a correction to theological hypotheses. Second, at least some ground-of-being theologies find compatibility with religious naturalisms, while iconic theisms do not. Each of these premises requires qualifications.First, as Robert Neville has pointed out, religious naturalism gets several things right as an ideology: (1) it rejects authoritarianism in favor of empirical and experiential inquiry, and (2) it rejects “literal supernaturalism [and supra-naturalism, cf. Tillich] as having explanatory or hermeneutical power.”4 In these respects, naturalism does provide appropriate constraints on theological inquiry. While literal, or iconic, supernaturalism, or theism, lacks explanatory power, part of the argument of this article is that theism can be used indexically to engage the depth dimension of nature, including its ontological ground, which is nothing apart from the things grounded (see the later discussion of Abhinavagupta’s “ābhāsa-vāda” theory).5 This indexical theism provides a pragmatic approach to “effing the ineffable,” as Wesley Wildman would say.6 [End Page 61]However, naturalism also can be “so easily wrong.”7 Alfred North Whitehead argued that philosophy (or theology) has a vital role to play in relation to science: philosophy must both critique science’s abstractions (and reductions) and engage in speculative flights of the imagination.8 While science engages parts of reality with exceptional clarity, it is reductive to the categories of (primarily) mathematics. Moreover, as Neville and Donald Crosby argue, science almost always excludes value from its account of reality.9 Science is thus partially inadequate to experience and, ironically, less empirical than (good) philosophy in this respect. In this regard, philosophy or theology can also be an appropriate constraint... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Mind and Purpose in Nature: A Reply to Donald A. CrosbyMikael Leidenhag (bio)One might say that there is a blurred line between panpsychism and emergentism. They are both committed to anti-reductionism and have often been construed as viable options to crude physicalism and Cartesian dualism. Yet, the panpsychist will find the bruteness of emergent properties concerning, in that they seem to emerge unpredictably and in defiance of any logical (...) explanation. In my book and article, I highlighted potential weaknesses in various forms of emergentism, including Donald Crosby’s way of using emergence theory to lay a metaphysical foundation for a Religion of Nature.1 In his most recent book Evolutionary Emergence of Purposive Goals and Values: A Naturalistic Teleology, Crosby responds to some of my criticisms.2 This short essay offers a reply to what I take to be the key issues in this important dialogue between panpsychism and emergentism.Before I proceed to respond to Crosby’s informative criticism, let me summarize some important commonalities between my own panpsychist view of consciousness and Crosby’s teleological emergentism.First, we both share a commitment to mental and teleological realism, in that our accounts take it as a fact that there is something to be explained. Mentality and teleological features of nature are not appearances to be explained (away) by some underlying, purely physical, level. In that regard, both Crosby and I take Daniel Dennett’s illusionist and eliminativist view of consciousness to be an insufficient metaphysical starting point. I agree with Crosby’s assessment in Evolutionary Emergence of Purposive Goals and Values that such an eliminative stance “provides no satisfying explanation for teleology or convincing interpretation of its critical role” in humans and non-human animals.3 [End Page 84]A second, important, common denominator is that our accounts reject what Crosby terms “mechanistic materialism” according to which, contra Dennett, there is something to be explained, but that consciousness/teleology (C/T) can be wholly accounted for in terms of physico-mechanical interactions, opening the door for wholescale causal determinism and denial of freedom in nature.4Third, albeit in significantly different ways, our accounts of C/T rely on something more fundamental to explain higher-level phenomena. I take mind/mindedness to be a fundamental and universal feature of existence, whereas Crosby suggests that novelty is a “pervasive trait of the temporal universe,” enabling the emergence of C/T through longer evolutionary trajectories.5Fourth, C/T can act as a pointer towards a Sacred dimension of reality. On Crosby’s Religion of Nature, the reality of C/T signifies the valuative dimensions of nature and a “sacredness that is not derivative from something else or from some other realm.”6 While I concede that there is no necessary connection between panpsychism and theism, I have previously made the argument that the former makes the latter significantly more reasonable.Given these commonalities, Crosby and I would occupy a rather similar spot on a hypothetical map of all the available positions in philosophy of mind.I outline these common denominators to make sure that the differences between our accounts are not exaggerated and that it hopefully makes it easier to follow my response to Crosby’s criticism below.I will, in particular, focus on three areas of contention: (1) That emergence theory does not entail a stronger notion of unpredictability/incomprehensibility, (2) that consciousness (and teleological norms) can arise naturally through the evolutionary process if given sufficient time; and (3) that emergence theory does not entail dualism.It should be emphasized that my arguments, and concerns about Crosby’s emergentism, are mostly based on philosophers that subscribe to some form of naturalism, materialism, or physicalism.Emergence Theory and UnpredictabilityIn my book Naturalizing God? and the article “Does Naturalism Make Room for Teleology?” I make the argument that the plausibility of emergentism is undercut by one of its core commitments; namely, that emergent properties, [End Page 85] while ontologically dependent on their material base, are unpredictable in relation to the subvenient base. That is, while consciousness depends on the brain structure, the coming into being of consciousness—our very ability to have thoughts, feelings, and perceptions... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Varieties of Atheism: Connecting Religion and Its Critics ed. by David NewheiserPaul K. MoserThe Varieties of Atheism: Connecting Religion and Its Critics. Edited by David Newheiser. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2022. 216 pp. $32.50 paper; $99.00 hardcover.There are two general ways to approach a controversial topic. The first way defines the key terms for the topic as clearly as possible, in order to give contributors a (...) common focus. This manner of approach keeps participants on the same page, with a shared topic of conversation and debate. The second way does not bother to formulate shared definitions of key terms. Instead, it notes multiple uses of key terms in history, and it allows contributors to proceed with their preferred uses, despite considerable variation in uses.This book, emerging from a 2018 conference on religion and its critics, opts for the second way, leaving readers with a wide range of understandings of “atheism.” Its eight essays therefore often treat different topics, with little sense of a common query. Editor Newheiser looks for a common feature as follows: “These essays explore the complex relations of sympathy and resistance that connect particular atheisms with particular religious traditions” (2). He hopes that “the collection opens new possibilities for conversation between those who are religious and those who are not” (2).We naturally might ask what the hoped-for conversation is about. If it is about the truth of theism, we are faced with a potential belief about whether God exists. Many people are concerned about that matter, even if atheism includes components beyond a mere belief about God’s existence. Atheism, Newheiser proposes, “is a polyphonic assemblage that develops in conversation with religious traditions” (8). He also claims that the collection is helpful in “bracketing the timeworn debate over the existence of God” (9). Even if the debate is “timeworn,” it still could be vital to understanding many religious traditions, theistic and nontheistic. In addition, it could be central to an adequate understanding of atheism even if atheism includes many noncognitive features. Such important prospects deserve more attention than Newheiser and his contributors suggest.An Afterword by Constance M. Furey, “The Drama of Atheism,” tries to find some unity in the book’s essays. She reports that the contributors are “united in our interest in atheism’s diversity, and intrigued by the possibility that new studies of atheism might unravel the single thread linking religion to belief” (200). She adds that the book’s authors “collectively confirm that [End Page 94] atheism’s multifaceted drama has often been overshadowed by the huckster out front, luring passersby with a simple cry, ‘God! Alive or Dead? True or False?’” (201). I fail to see why the latter questions should be associated with a “huckster.” That seems to assign guilt by association, without needed good reasons.I cannot recall anyone, philosopher or theologian, arguing that historical atheists hold only that it is false that God exists. Interest in the issue of “True or False?” is prominent among philosophers and theologians, because they are interested in the nature of reality, with respect to the existence of a divine being. Such interests, however, are no threat to other areas of commitment and practice among atheists. Those other areas can get due attention while one maintains a keen interest in the question of God’s existence. I suggest, then, that the book has a misplaced emphasis in its (attempt at) jettisoning issues about the existence of God in connection with atheism. Such issues are central to historical atheism, even though other concerns and features accompany it.Furey looks for a special kind of “hope” in the collection’s essays. She cites the book’s editor in endorsing “a commitment to thoughtful life and living thought that holds ‘affirmation and negation together in tension,’... in ‘an ethical practice of openness to the unexpected’” (202). She exclaims: “What better place to find this hope, the holding of affirmation and negation together, than in a volume devoted to open inquiry and unexpected conclusions about atheism” (202). She does not say, however, what the praised “negation” consists in. Is this the negation of God’s existence... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Critical Piety: Our Urgent Need to Recover an Ancient VirtueMary Nickel (bio)But, you see, if you eats these dinners and don’t cook ’em, if you wears these clothes and don’t buy or iron them, then you might start thinking that the good fairy or some spirit did all that. They asked a little white girl in this family I used to work for who made her cake at one (...) of her little tea parties. She said she made it and then she hid her face and said the good fairies made it. Well, you are looking at that good fairy. Black folks don’t have no time to be thinking like that. If I thought like that, I’d burn cakes and scorch skirts. But when you don’t have anything else to do, you can think like that. It’s bad for your mind, though.—Rosa Wakefield1There has been a lamentable trend, in the age since the Great Awakenings, to use the word “piety” as a synonym for “devoutness.” Piety, to the contemporary ear, conjures a sense of personal religious feeling and practice. For example, Saba Mahmood’s distinguished text, Politics of Piety, has as its theme the individual agency of women in Islamic societies. Meanwhile, untold books in the field of religious studies simply use “piety” as a stand-in for “religion.”2 This use of the term is not limited to the academic study of religion; recently, one liberation theologian has even demanded that we move, in the words of the title of his book, Beyond Piety.3 The thesis of that book rests on the premise that piety is altogether private, and insufficiently materially productive.4 [End Page 5]According to the ancients, though, piety is neither of these things. Piety, for Cicero, motivates the pious to “render kind offices and loving service to one’s kin and country.”5 As such, the ancient virtue of piety is fundamentally public, insofar as it pertains to one’s public tribute to her kin and fellow citizens. Furthermore, piety is productive, insofar as it motivates the pious to accomplish good things on behalf of her kin and fellow citizens. The ancient virtue therefore involves the near inverse of what the modern term suggests today.6 Where contemporary uses of the word “piety” are often preceded by the word “personal,” the ancients would have been bewildered by such a formulation.This essay does not dare try to account for how the ancient virtue of piety disintegrated to the point of becoming a matter of private religious practice. For those who are interested in that topic, many historians (and non-historians) offer various narratives to explain that trajectory.7 However, I will refrain from so doing. Instead, in what follows, I seek to illuminate the ancient virtue of piety, and show why we need so urgently to recover it. Piety, the ancients believed, is the virtuous act of acknowledging those things that make our lives possible.Furthermore, I will also update the ancient virtue, so to speak, to situate it in our modern context. That requires three substantial interventions. First, I show that piety must be comprehensive and even prospective. That is: not only ought we to be grateful for those who have made our lives possible up to and including the present moment, but we ought also to be grateful for those whose future work will sustain our continued wellbeing. Second, I show that piety must not only be symbolic or expressive, but also material. However, I do [End Page 6] not intend to neglect the importance of expressive piety. Third, I concentrate on the appropriate means for acknowledging those sources of our being that are not altogether (or at all) commendable. Finally, I offer some reflections on what this meditation on piety might tell us about contemporary American society, including two policy proposals regarding public education and paid family leave.I. Piety, Ancient and ModernPremodern Piety. It can take some effort to comprehend what pietas meant to the ancients, especially given the modern connotations associated with its contemporary English cognate. It takes even more to grasp how central this virtue... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Transcendence, Immanence, and Ultimacy: The Theological Adequacy of Religious NaturalismJeffrey B. Speaks (bio)I. IntroductionIn the Introduction of Volume II of his Systematic Theology, Paul Tillich positions his “self-transcendent” and “ecstatic” conception of God as a via media that moves beyond the conflict of supranaturalism and naturalism.1 While Tillich’s rejection of Supranaturalism (i.e., God as a being, or the highest being) and more aggressively reductive forms of naturalism (i.e., eliminative (...) materialism) is not surprising, ST:II has remained a challenging piece for the religious naturalist due to Tillich’s rejection of non-reductive, religious forms of naturalism (as well as pantheism) as theologically insufficient. For Tillich, even a religious naturalism that claims God is “identical with natura naturans, the creative nature, the creative ground of all natural objects” is objectionable because it “denies the infinite distance between the whole of finite things and their infinite ground, with the consequence that the term ‘God’ becomes interchangeable with the term ‘universe’ and therefore is semantically superfluous.”2 For the religious naturalist who has taken seriously Tillich’s claim that the object of religious concern should be something ultimate (i.e., the religious ultimate should also be metaphysically ultimate), this critique has the potential to be devastating by leaving the religious naturalist open to the charge of idolatry. Clearly, the challenge that Tillich raises to religious naturalism must be explored, wrestled with, and answered.The central problem that Tillich raises is that of transcendence—namely, that to qualify as metaphysically and religiously ultimate the referent of the word “God” must infinitely transcend the finite creature. How is it possible for a religious naturalism to register infinite transcendence (whether it uses the language of God or not) in what is often considered to be a radically immanentist theology? To establish the theological adequacy of religious naturalism, it is necessary to clarify what are religiously significant conceptions of transcendence and establish a metric by which varieties of religious naturalism can be evaluated. [End Page 44]The first section of this article will unpack Tillich’s conceptions of supra-naturalism, naturalism, and ecstatic/self-transcendent theism to clarify his critique of religious naturalism and explain why Tillich thinks infinite self-transcendence is necessary for a theologically satisfactory religious ultimate. The second section of this article will develop a conceptual framework for evaluating dimensions of transcendence within a religious naturalist metaphysical system. It will establish immanent transcendence as a vague comparative category, within which are three dimensions of transcendence at play: axiological self-transcendence, conceptual transcendence, and ontological transcendence. The three dimensions provide a framework for evaluating a religious naturalist philosophical theology: high scores in all three dimensions show that metaphysics registers a greater degree of transcendence. The third section of the article will test the evaluative framework on a test-subject, by examining the role of transcendence in Donald A. Crosby’s Religion of Nature.3 It will be shown that Crosby’s metaphysics show a great deal of promise in the dimensions of axiological self-transcendence and conceptual transcendence, but cannot register the degree of ontological self-transcendence that Tillich thinks an adequate religious ultimate requires.II. Paul Tillich’s Self-Transcendent TheismIn between the publication of the first and second volumes of his Systematic Theology, Tillich faced substantial criticism over the doctrine of God developed in the first volume: namely, that God is to be identified as being-itself, and beyond this statement “nothing else can be said about God as God which is not symbolic.”4 In the second volume, Tillich hoped to shed new light on his conception by reframing his God as being “beyond naturalism and supranaturalism,” or as “[overcoming] the conflict of naturalism and supranaturalism.”5 As Tillich’s terminology is somewhat idiosyncratic (e.g., supranaturalism), it behooves the reader to carefully determine what Tillich means by these terms in order to properly identify why his ecstatic conception of God overcomes this conflict.Tillich defines supranaturalism as the belief that God is the highest being. “In this position [God] has brought the universe into being at a certain moment... governs it according to his plan, directs it toward an end, interferes... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Justice and Generality After CritiqueLisa Landoe Hedrick (bio)The context for my paper is Wesley J. Wildman's understanding of the dispute between modernity and postmodernity; namely, that it is fundamentally a dispute about generality and justice. Where postmodern critique goes wrong, he argues, is in failing to appreciate how a tireless commitment to self-criticism can manage the risks of assertion. We need both consciousness-raising critique and orienting conceptual interpretations of (...) the world—achieving such checks and balances is the promise of a pragmatic theory of inquiry. In contrast to postmodernist asceticism, Wildman invites us to build responsibly. I agree that constructive steps are needed after genealogical, post-colonial, feminist, and other such critical social theories. My concern, shared by several contributors to Religion in Multidisciplinary Perspective, is that these steps can be taken too soon, meaning before they have been sufficiently retooled by way of such theories' concerns about the politics of discourse and inquiry and the conceptual tools with which we conceive comparative programs.I begin by detailing Wildman's position with respect to postmodern criticism. I then explore (and second) concerns voiced by LeRon Shults, Timothy Knepper, and Sarah Fredericks with respect to this position. I proceed to put them in constructive conversation with contemporary anthropologists striving for new conceptions of comparative inquiry in response to similar concerns. My purpose is to show how shame-induced asceticism about a certain type of assertion can create space, not just for greater readiness to revise, but for entirely new senses of assertion.Wildman regards the work of postmodernist critics as "far and away the most ascetic form of philosophy ever attempted."1 The contributions of these "philosophical analysts of ideology in politics and discourse" including thinkers "from Freud and before to Derrida and beyond" have greatly improved our awareness and understanding of "the power of narratives and theories to structure imaginations."2 But they have almost exclusively regarded this power in negative ways, as a subject of suspicion and enemy of an authentic [End Page 12] life. Attempting to systematically avoid ideology, these thinkers have developed highly "ritualized form[s] of discourse" as a way of habitually divulging and eliminating frameworks of understanding.This expectation, according to Wildman, is "impossible" to satisfy and is as such "disabling," not to mention "undesirable."3 Ideology can be as helpful as it can be hurtful and, in any case, it is unavoidable: "[these] coded frameworks of interpretation and meaning … are invaluable in helping us to engage our social worlds constructively." He continues, "Without partially hidden frameworks for orienting ourselves to the endless complexities of social life and politics, we have only painful exposure to the harsh light of more self-awareness than we can tolerate, producing paralysis and impotence. Thus, we need both partially submerged frameworks for social orientation and efficient mechanisms for correcting those frameworks when they produce undesirable or unjust effects."4 Bracketing the discussion about how we judge effects to be "undesirable" or "unjust," I wonder about what this statement implies regarding the placating function of frameworks against reality. What is it about which we become aware that produces paralysis? And what is the framework within which we can make such assessments?Wildman does not see any issue in answering such questions; he draws upon evolutionary biology to establish a positive valence for ideology to counterbalance postmodernist concerns.The ability to appeal to the natural sciences is central to Wildman's protest, since a one-sided account of the way power penetrates knowledge overestimates the arbitrariness and irrationality of that knowledge and invalidates any bid for authority on the part of the natural sciences. As I understand him, Wildman takes this postmodernist move to be symptomatic of a broader lack of self-awareness, which forgets that ideological criticism was itself a modern creation.5 He takes the very fact that ideological criticism has emerged to be a testament against postmodernist fatalism. A two-sided account of the way power penetrates knowledge would, presumably on his logic, admit partial arbitrariness and partial irrationality. (It is unclear to me what differentiates arbitrariness from irrationality here, and I'd be grateful for a lesson.)At least in this context... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Where Philosophy Has ArrivedRobert Cummings Neville (bio)The title here is ambiguous. It might mean where philosophy has arrived at this point. Or it might mean where philosophy has arrived and is passing through this point. I mean the second, where philosophy is passing through. The title is also ambiguous with regard to whose philosophy is under discussion. Wesley J. Wildman's is the topic I was invited to address, but (...) I would not take the time to write this if I were not to talk about my philosophy too. So, this philosophy is my philosophy addressing his philosophy, relative to a much larger whole.The first topic here is our general agreement that our feelings of the world are genuine feelings of the world in certain respects, not feelings of our consciousness, or anything like that. Wildman and I are pretty much in agreement here with the possible exception of his agreement, or disagreement, with my claim that value is exclusively laid on interpretations that come from the world. We share this ambiguity of agreement with regard to interpretation, which explains how we think that all lines of interpretation come from the world even when some lines of interpretation are in fact located with the body and brain we would adopt.Value is subject to my metaphysical theory in ways it is not for Wildman. I argue that value has a place in any determinate thing. It is part of the form of a determinate thing. This entails, of course, that every determinate things has value by virtue of having form. Values have hierarchical forms, with higher levels incorporating components through varieties of changes. The components of any determination are of two sorts, essential and conditional. The essential components give the determinate thing its own being, and the conditional components relate it to other determinate things. Thus every determinate thing is related to some other determinate things, and the whole of determinate things are all related directly or indirectly, with much difference constituted by time. Does Wildman have a metaphysical theory of time?Whether or not he does, we both have theories of how things are experienced by human beings. My theory says that distant things are experienced through lines of interpretation connecting those things with us where the connections end in the organs of human perception. Sights, sounds, touches, and kinesthetic senses are most prominent, although many other senses might be functional too below some level of consciousness. The distant thing might have many lines of [End Page 69] interpretation that do not enter our experience. The components of the distant thing hang together in its own harmony. The lines of interpretation that do enter of our experience come from an aspect of the distant thing, which is an experienceable thing, given the vast numbers of changes. This allows me to have my metaphysical values as well as the experience of only aspects of them. How does Wildman acknowledge this, if at all?The Ultimate is something on which Wildman and I agree at least 50 percent of the time. We agree that the Ultimate is infinite, that is, non-determinate. I say that the indeterminate Ultimate is empty in itself, and determinate only in what it creates. Wildman agrees with that half the time and the other half thinks the Ultimate is full, super-full, so that the determinate world is the overflow of the full Ultimate. I give the arguments for my account below. His argument is that my claim for the logic of my position supposes without warrant that there exists a logical floor. I agree that I appeal to a logical floor but think it is contingent on the existence of the Ultimate, which I claim is an ontological creative act. What would Wildman say to this?The last topic is how we respond to our conceptions of the Ultimate, which I call our "satisfaction." How are we satisfied in feeling the Ultimate? This question is very personal and so I leave it to Wildman to state what satisfaction he takes. My own satisfactions are two, an Ultimate satisfaction and a Pen-Ultimate one. I explain them below.I. FeelingsRomanticism's doctrine... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Multidisciplinary Inquiry in the Study of Religion:The Next GenerationF. LeRon Shults (bio)Bob Neville and I began our introduction to Religion in Multidisciplinary Perspective: Philosophical, Theological, and Scientific Approaches to Wesley J. Wildman, by describing the latter as "the most original, audacious, creative, encyclopedic, and integrative thinker working within and across the fields of philosophy, ethics, theology, and the scientific study of religion in our time."1 Notice we did not (...) say "one of the most," but "the most." We stand by the claim. Active members of the Institute for American Religious and Philosophical Thought (IARPT), the professional association that sponsors the American Journal of Theology and Philosophy (AJPT), will be familiar with Wildman's work and not at all surprised by this assertion. For those less well acquainted with Wildman, and so understandably somewhat suspicious of such a claim, I hope that the essays in the special issue—and of course the Festschrift to which they respond—will diminish their skepticism and pique their curiosity.It was Wesley who invited me to join IARPT all those many years ago (when it was still HIARPT), a unique group of pragmatist and process philosophers, most of whom are (more or less religious) naturalists. It is an association of professionals and friends within which I have found a happy home. It has been a joy to be able to put together the book and this special issue to honor Wesley and promote further engagement with his work.It was a difficult task for Bob Neville and me to categorize Wildman's multidisciplinary corpus, but eventually we decided to invite contributors to approach his work from the general direction of one of three areas—philosophy, theology, or science—while simultaneously reaching across disciplines. In the aforementioned introduction, we offered a brief academic biography and summary of some of Wildman's most significant books for those not familiar with his writings. The three major parts of the volume, which I will summarize below, offer several scholarly engagements with Wildman's thought, each approaching it with a multidisciplinary perspective. For those unfamiliar with his philosophy, a good place to start for understanding his approach to philosophy is Religious Philosophy as [End Page 5] Multidisciplinary Comparative Inquiry.2 A good place to begin getting familiar with his approach to theology is In Our Image: Anthropomorphism, Apophaticism, and Ultimacy.3 A good place to get a feel for his approach to the scientific study of religion is Science and Religious Anthropology: A Spiritually Evocative Naturalist Interpretation of Human Life.4Whether in philosophy, theology, or the scientific study of religion, Wildman has not hesitated to "boldly go where no one has gone before." With the courage of a Captain Kirk and the intelligence of a Mr. Spock, not to mention the ingenuity of a Scotty and therapeutic skills of a Dr. McCoy, Wildman has trekked through the unknown (and in the case of theology, he would add, unknowable) conceptual space of more disciplinary systems that one would think possible. His intellectual voyages exploring strange new multidisciplinary worlds have been an inspiration to many in the next generation of scholars interested in engaging American religious and philosophical thought. People who know Wesley well also know how much energy he has committed to nurturing this next generation. The younger authors who have contributed to this special issue may not even get my references to the original Star Trek, which aired in the 1960s, and are perhaps even too young even to remember Star Trek: The Next Generation, which first aired in 1987, with Captain Jean Luc Picard and the gang. Well, one gets to a certain age and one has to come to terms with using the cultural references one has.In the film Star Trek Generations, which came out 30 years ago, the same year (indeed, the same month) that I met Wesley, Captain Picard finds himself facing another galactic crisis and (spoiler alert) ends up being pulled into the "Nexus," an extra-dimensional realm of wish fulfillment, where he finds Captain Kirk, long presumed dead, enjoying himself immensely. Kirk agrees to help Picard alter space-time and together they save the universe (again). OK, let... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:As Ground of Being, God Favors Good Over Bad Choices:Confucian Response to Wesley J. WildmanBin Song (bio)I. Historical/Historic LocationThroughout the history of Western exploration of worldviews and lifepaths, three figures prominently herald the overarching nature of Wildman's scholarship on science, philosophy, theology, and religion: Aristotle, Spinoza, and Tillich (along with his contemporary counterpart, Robert C. Neville). While the link between Tillich-Neville and Wildman is extensively articulated in Wildman's own (...) writings and the festschrift1 dedicated to him, I will center my discussion on Aristotle and Spinoza.The thoughts of all three aforementioned historical figures constitute a lineage towards merging science, philosophy, theology, and religion into an open inquiry process concerning the foundational conditions of human existence. This inquiry also has profound practical implications for humanity's pursuit of the ultimate meaning and power in life that are larger than any human self. Aristotle's architectonic philosophy, evident in the early currents of Western thought, reveals the organic links among all major disciplines practiced in the modern academy. For Aristotle, "theology,"2 focused on the ultimate cause of the world, is nested within "metaphysics." This discipline delves into the most fundamental natures of reality and is a subset of "theoretical philosophy." This broad category also encompasses sciences such as "mathematics," "physics," and the study of animals and plants—what we now term "biology." In the "practical philosophy," Aristotle crafted his renowned virtue "ethics," advocating for individuals to cultivate stable character traits through a liberal arts education and a well-informed democracy, all in the pursuit of a [End Page 50] eudaimonic, or fulfilling, life. This aspiration for the good life aims to emulate and perpetually approach the achievements of the ultimate reality, the eternally self-contemplating Nous, on a cosmic scale. This grants Aristotle's philosophy a deeply "religious" dimension.3The virtual confluence of "philosophy" and "science" involves mastering all requisite knowledge and tapping into multi-generational and multicultural intellectual assets to support and refine one's theological hypothesis about ultimate reality. Moreover, it entails understanding the practical and religious implications of such theological inquiry. These facets of Aristotle's thought align closely with Wildman's conception of "religious philosophy" or "philosophical theology."4 I contend that if the Western world had consistently embraced Aristotle's liberal arts educational model, without the extended influence of Christian theology on medieval universities, Wildman, as a teacher-scholar, would likely feel entirely at home within a modern branch of the Peripatetic school based in the Lyceum.The affinity between Wildman's religious philosophy and Spinoza's thought is more substantive than formal. The Spinozian notion that equates God with nature echoes Wildman's religious naturalism. Wildman's inclination towards the Plotinus model of ultimate reality as the ground of being, which envisions the emergence of distinct entities from the One akin to "breaking off pieces from an endless and paradoxically edgeless chocolate bar,"5 is reminiscent of Spinoza's distinction between God as "natura naturans" and the world as "natura naturata."6 Furthermore, the "dipolar monism" metaphysics7 Wildman employs to address the hard question in neuroscience and the philosophy of mind is clearly derivative of Spinoza's monistic parallelism between mind and body. [End Page 51]More crucially, by equating God with nature, Spinoza posits that revealed truths about God are merely particular instances of natural truth. The "prophets" described in the Hebrew Bible don't necessarily possess unique wisdom about this natural truth. Instead, they have vivid imaginations, enabling them to employ those particular instances of truth to appeal to the masses' senses, thereby cultivating morality and serving various institutional and political aims. When aligned with natural reason, religion, as thus understood, complements philosophy and science in fostering the humanistic ethics of the general populace. However, when rooted in superstition rather than natural reason, it becomes a source of political manipulation and societal unrest.8 Echoing Spinoza's views on religion, Wildman presents a compelling refutation of the distinction between revealed and natural theology, leaning in favor of the latter.9 Yet, Wildman is still open to retaining "God" as the term for ultimate reality to uphold the moral-guiding role of traditional... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Wildman's Effing Theodicy:The Problem of Suffering, the Ground of Being, and the Worship of SuchnessDemian Wheeler (bio)I. Confronting Suffering: Fictional Gods, Monstrous Evils, and Ghostly WhisperersWesley J. Wildman—"the comparing inquirer,"1 "the man who receives too many emails,"2 "the most original, audacious, creative, encyclopedic, and integrative thinker working within and across the fields of philosophy, ethics, theology, and the scientific study of religion in our time"3—is now a novelist! His (...) recently published first novel, The Winding Way Home, is an astounding and achingly beautiful story about a family searching for healing in the face of unspeakable tragedy and crushing grief. Our protagonist is Jesse, a strangely familiar philosopher, polymath, and professor, whose six-year-old daughter, Becca, is abducted from her bedroom in the middle of the night. Needless to say, Becca's disappearance totally shatters the lives of Jesse, his beloved partner Alexandra, and their two boys, Matt and Josh.On the verge of a complete mental breakdown, and desperate to manage the anxiety, uncertainty, terror, and encroaching despair, Jesse begins to engage in a severe form of meditation, deliberately dwelling on images of what Becca might be enduring, however gruesome and devastating. He pictures her dead in the woods, sold to the highest bidder, imprisoned in an attic, abused physically and sexually, buried alive in a crate desperately praying to be rescued, treating each possible future "as a shard-like perspective on a fear-inducing, darkly humming [End Page 20] crystalline monstrosity." For Jesse, this visualization practice is an act of solidarity, not masochism, a way to love his precious little girl as she really is, no matter what she went through or is still going through. Anything less feels like a betrayal, like a "spineless retreat from the reality of Becca's life." Facing the brutal truth about Becca also becomes an integral part of his piety, his worship. As the saga unfolds, Jesse embarks on a weird but wild spiritual quest, a quest to see and surrender to the world in all its wonder and ambiguity, grace and threat, the world that gave him the greatest gift imaginable, Becca, a "beautiful, perfect little being," only to take her away and hand her over to a fate worse than death.4Later in the story, Jesse and Alexandra become foster parents to an abduction survivor named Maddy. Their worst nightmares about what probably happened to Becca actually did happen to Maddy. Stolen from her family at a young age and chained up in a cold, lonely basement, Maddy was subjected to years of torture, malnourishment, deprivation, disease, and rape, forced to bear the children of her captors. Shortly after Maddy and her kids move in, Jesse schedules a meeting with Father Jimmy, "his favorite delusional priest." Jesse admires and appreciates Father Jimmy's intelligence, lovingkindness, and nonjudgmental nature. But he is not bashful about challenging his "supernatural mumbo-jumbo."5 On this particular occasion, they gather to talk about the theological implications of Maddy's horrific life and whatever unthinkable horrors befell Becca. The conversation gets quite heated. Growing increasingly irate, Jesse asks Father Jimmy if he prays for Maddy, Becca, and other missing children and trusts in a God who permits their dreadful circumstances and could do something to ameliorate them. Father Jimmy nods in the affirmative and gently asks a question of his own: "Why would you be angry at a God you don't believe in?" Jesse thunders back:I'm not angry at your fictional God! … I'm angry at you. You worship and pray to a being who allowed Becca and Maddy to be raped and tortured, and in Becca's case probably murdered. And then you offer solace to me and my family in the form of prayers to change this deity's mind about what to do. As if that's supposed to make any of us feel better! Can't you see? You're commending to me a God whose behavior and decisions are so utterly appalling, so completely opposed to the good as I understand it, that I would devote my life to morally resisting this God's depravity... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Four Majestic Philosophical Thoroughbreds and a Deranged DonkeyWesley J. Wildman (bio)I. IntroductionFor me, this special issue is miraculous fun. I'm so grateful in an undirected way that the universe affords such possibilities. To think, the human project might have ended already had any one of a litany of disasters occurred, from asteroid collisions to our dalliance with self-destructive technologies. No more friends. No more wonderful and silly philosophical arguments. (...) But the human project hasn't ended, not this week anyway, and here we are, celebrating the American Journal of Theology and Philosophy, and enjoying a vigorous exchange of ideas.I'm also grateful in a directed way to specific people—to LeRon Shults and Robert Neville for editing the book that inspired this discussion, Religion in Multidisciplinary Perspective,1 to LeRon for editing this special issue, and additionally to Lisa Landoe Hedrick, Bin Song, Demian Wheeler, Bob, and LeRon for their contributions. These five friends have done me a great honor.It is fascinating—as well as a rare privilege—to witness how one's writings land in the minds and lives of diverse readers. What I hope that means is that there is more to say and write, more insights to wring from the drenched, raggedy fabric of reality, more reason to joyfully embrace the inassimilable density of value that confronts us. That is cause for celebration. Surely this is one reason we dabble in philosophy, dancing atop the brooding axiological depths, telling stories about what lies beneath, and occasionally fighting with one another about what matters most in those stories. To me, making that vision of the depth dimension of reality count for the wellbeing of others is what matters most. But I'm up for quibbling over stories, too; it's a welcome diversion from the daily labors of practical, prosocial philosophy.A word about the peculiar title of this essay is in order. Aren't philosophical theologians supposed to be more serious than that? In fact, the title refers to a memorable experience I shared with my old friend Larry Martin when we worked together in Piedmont, California. One weekend we trekked into [End Page 83] the California mountains to go white-water rafting. It was my first time to experience this particular form of joyful intensity, and I was glad for Larry's company.We were two and the rafts were large, so we were teamed with a crew of Pentecostal church leaders for whom the rafting day was a bonding adventure. Between them and Larry and me, we took up several rafts. We set off through class-four rapids, which I later found out was a rather extreme introduction to white-water rafting. Fortunately, nothing terrible happened to me, apart from a bruised knee when the base of the raft slammed onto a rock right where I was perched. One raft flipped but it wasn't ours and everyone survived.We were exhausted but strangely energized when we pulled into a clearing for lunch. There we found a great pile of sandwiches wrapped in foil, just begging to be eaten by famished rafters. Unwisely, I reached for one, only to discover that this group of Pentecostal church leaders wanted to pray over their meal first. Suitably humbled, and simultaneously impressed with their ability to delay gratification, I listened as they prayed—all of them speaking in tongues—for a seemingly endless period of time.After a minute, I noticed movement in the corner of my vision, my eyes remaining inappropriately open during this act of prayer. I turned to see a donkey walk out of the woods and come to rest in a corner of the clearing. It began braying, expressing a bizarre kind of sympathy with the tongues-talkers, I supposed. As the outburst of glossolalia wound down, the donkey turned and walked back into the forest.To say that I was astonished is a gross understatement. Was that a corporate Saint Francis of Assisi moment? A coincidence to end all coincidences? A practical joke played by two people from the rafting company in an extremely realistic donkey suit? The full measure of my astonishment lies in my... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Democracy, Spirit, and RevitalizationWalter B. Gulick (bio)The assumptions of democracy as an associational ethos of vulnerable life are, first, that we don't already know how best to order our common life and, second, that we don't know what the abstract ideals of empathy, emancipation, and equity entail in the concrete.—Michael Hogue1In American Immanence: Democracy for an Uncertain World, Michael S. Hogue grounds his proposal for a political theology in (...) a critique of American exceptionalism and its supportive "redeemer symbolic."2 In the Anthropocene era, Hogue states, American exceptionalism "legitimates the extraction of diverse forms of value and justifies the externalization of diverse costs" (29) with unconscionable costs to the natural environment and international justice. As indicated in the passage quoted above, Hogue's reaction to the rigid assumptions supportive of American exceptionalism is to offer a humble acknowledgement of political fallibility coupled with what he terms "a theopolitics of resilient democracy" (184; see also 3–6).My concern in this essay is largely practical. I will focus on discerning what intellectual, emotional, and communal resources might be drawn upon to further develop and actually effect the needed changes that Hogue so ably points out. Relatedly, I will inquire into who the most likely candidates are to devote energy to the reconstruction of social structures and practices so that they express values that Americans at their best uphold. Finally, I will reflect upon the role that spiritual ideals and communal practices might play in energizing effective democratic action. [End Page 5]I. Hogue's Critical and Constructive TasksHogue's overriding interest is to outline an epistemic/axiological/environmental/political stance that does not give rise to the various sorts of injustices and dysfunctions that mark the Anthropocene era, especially our allegiance to policies that eventuate in what he calls "climate wickedness." The alternative vision he embraces develops pragmatic naturalism as a method of inquiry and exposition. His reflections are especially indebted to the thought of Dewey, James, and Whitehead (78–82). During a time when e-words are normally associated with forms of electronic communication, Hogue offers instead two trios of e-words with another sort of significance—one that signifies a stance he wishes to overcome and one that communicates what he hopes to achieve. Our current era is unfortunately in thrall, he says, to extraction, externalization, and exception, whereas what we should strive for is a society marked by empathy, emancipation, and equitability. Well put. He presupposes that democratic governance, deeply embedded in American history, ought to serve as the vehicle for achieving what the positive set of e-words promotes. To this end, Hogue quotes appreciatively from Dewey's article, "Democracy is Radical": Democracy "is radical because it requires great change in existing social institutions, economic, legal and cultural" (170). This understanding of democracy slumbers now; what might it take to reawaken it? And if reawakened, what changes might be made to establish the more nearly equitable political influence that is basic to the promise of democracy?Hogue, recognizing in good pragmatic fashion the importance of consequential change, states, "In contrast to foundationalist commitments to antecedents and precedents, pragmatic naturalism commits to a prospective concern with consequents" (80). Foundational commitments to antecedents may certainly impede needed change, but surely attention to the historical events and practices that gave rise to current problems is needed to avoid repeating previous errors. Hogue refers to Whitehead's vision of social symbolism, suggesting that "social change can be catalyzed by the improvised revision of existing symbolic repertoires or the innovative formation or subversive interjection of new symbols" (99). I'm not fully convinced by Whitehead's claim. I suspect that many of our social problems are rooted below the linguistic level in an array of affective issues that elude symbolic adjustment. New strategies are needed to counter the prevalence of fear and resentment in society as promoted for political and commercial reasons and tied to Hogue's strongly voiced recognition that we live in an uncertain world.Here is my understanding of how Hogue both frames our current social and cultural situation and what he says might begin to remediate these circumstances. [End Page... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Response to My ReadersMichael S. Hogue (bio)I. IntroductionI often begin writing for personal reasons: to slow my thinking, clarify and organize my thoughts, trace ideas, and sort concepts. Generally, a concern for something I consider wrong about the world motivates me to write. Provoked by such a concern, I write to understand why and how what is wrong came to be that way and why and how I (...) think it can or should be different. I write in reply to H. Richard Niebuhr's moral hermeneutic question, "What's going on?" And yet, while writing typically begins (for me) as a personal search for understanding, this search eventually leads me to (re) discover my formative communities of inquiry and interpretation. None of my questions or ideas, none of my orienting values, none of my interpretive impulses are mine alone. They do not, and cannot, exist independently of others' questions, ideas, values, and interpretations. To use Peirce's metaphor, they are slender fibers braided into a larger cable rather than independent links in a chain. The issues and questions that motivate my research; the topics I care about enough to develop into articles and books; the conceptual, critical, and normative vocabularies I bring to my research and writing; the intellectual traditions that shape the patterns of my thinking—none of these are strictly personal or individual. They have taken root and grown in me as I've learned with and from others. Writing reminds me that, as a person, I am a creature of relational processes because it shows me that my mind is not (exclusively) my own—what and how I think have been formed, animated, and limited by my experience with others in a larger world of experience that is broader and deeper than any individual mind.I open this brief essay with this comment to acknowledge my gratitude and indebtedness not only to the authors of the articles in this special issue (Walter Gulick, Robert Smid, John Teehan, and AJ Turner) but also to the larger community of scholars that comprise the readership of the American Journal of Theology and Philosophy (AJTP) and the Institute for American Religious and Philosophical Thought (IARPT). I attended my first IARPT (HIARPT, at the time) conference about seventeen years ago, soon after completing my Ph.D. I didn't know anyone personally then, but I knew several folks as authors of articles and books I had read in recent years. I discovered IARPT through the bibliography of Victor Anderson's book, Pragmatic Theology: Negotiating [End Page 80] the Intersections of an American Philosophy of Religion and Public Theology. I resonated with Anderson's articulation of a socially engaged public theology that drew from American pragmatist, historicist, and naturalist philosophies of religion. His mind had been where mine was going, into the dissenting tradition of American immanence, or the left wing of American radical theology, as I refer to it.While reading Anderson's book, I learned that many of the authors in his bibliography met every summer as a (relatively?) organized group of like-minded scholars. I joined them the next chance I had. And as things go with this group, I was immediately recruited to serve as the book review editor for the AJTP! Since that first meeting, I've attended as many IARPT meetings as my schedule allows, organized one of the summer conferences, served as AJTP book review editor for several years, and then served for several more years as the AJTP editor (following Michael Raposa's illustrious term!). Most recently, I was honored when Andrew Irvine and Austin Roberts made American Immanence a focus of the 2021 IARPT conference, "Political Thought and the Powers of Democracy: American Thought in the Anthropocene." Gulick's, Smid's, Teehan's, and Turner's articles began as papers for that conference.All this is to say what I have heard many others say through the years: the IARPT/AJTP community of interpretation has become a primary intellectual (and even spiritual) home for me. I am (and we are) fortunate to belong to a group of academic philosophers and theologians who collectively embody a rare (let us hope not... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Democracy in an Uncertain World:Expertise as a Provisional Response to VulnerabilityRobert Smid (bio)In the final chapter of American Immanence, Michael Hogue writes that "[r]ather than asking the foundationalist question of what epistemology is needed to ground or justify democracy, the pragmatist asks what epistemology democracy entails. What 'way of knowing' follows from, or is appropriate to, democracy as an associational ethos of vulnerable life?"1 While Hogue and I have (...) explored similar themes in our research on the promises and perils of democracy, this statement identifies a key difference in our respective approaches that has significant implications for the role that democracy can and should play in inquiry as well as for its potential to revolutionize civilization as we know it in the Anthropocene.In what follows, I raise three interrelated points that interrogate that difference. The first pertains to the role of foundations, provisional or otherwise, in Hogue's work, and results in a challenge to the special status seemingly given to democracy and a proposed inversion of the relation he poses between epistemology and democracy. The second pertains to the role of education in a democracy. This is a dimension of traditional pragmatist discourse on democracy that is conspicuously absent in Hogue's book, yet one that has significant implications for his argument. In this section, I will draw out the Deweyan strains of that discourse that appear to inform Hogue's work and contrast them with a Peircean take that yields notably different outcomes. The third point addresses the relation between democracy and sovereignty, a relation that Hogue explicitly eschews but that I will argue maintains some validity within democratic discourse, albeit in a more modest and provisional form. Finally, I draw these three points together in a conclusion that affirms much of Hogue's argument—including the profound vulnerability manifested by the Anthropocene and the need for more resilient forms of associated life—but assert that democracy is no less vulnerable than any other aspect of our uncertain world and therefore cannot be expected to possess within itself all that is necessary for its ongoing development. Building on the inversion of democracy and epistemology in the first section, the constitutive role of education in a [End Page 30] democracy as laid out in the second section, and the argument for a mitigated sovereignty in the third section, I argue that professional expertise provides an acceptable and necessary default when democratic structures fail.I. Provisional FoundationsAs a theopolitics rooted in religious naturalism, Hogue's understanding of democracy is one that is "embodied, relational, and vulnerable."2 That is, knowledge, meaning, and value all emerge out of and are conditioned by their social context, and shift according to the interests and needs of those who lay claim to them. Accordingly, Hogue's argument for democracy is that it is the way of life that allows for the broadest possible participation in such constructions, and which responds most effectively to the conditions of uncertainty and vulnerability surrounding them. It comes as no surprise, then, that his account of democracy is antifoundational, recognizing not only that all inquiry begins in medias res, but also that it emerges from a wide variety of media and that, while one goal of democratic discourse may be to chart a coherent path forward, both the media and the proposed paths are subject to change at any moment. Such antifoundationalism is a fairly standard commitment in pragmatist and process discourse, and thus relatively uncontroversial in its own right. It is worth noting, however, that being committed to antifoundationalism and actually being antifoundationalist in practice are often two very different things, our best efforts to the contrary notwithstanding.It is clear from Hogue's book that he resists any foundationalist epistemology, opting instead to derive his epistemology from democratic practice. As noted above, he asks "[w]hat 'way of knowing' follows from, or is appropriate to, democracy as an associational ethos of vulnerable life?"3 While it is possible that there is one epistemology that is best suited to democracy understood in this way, that epistemology would not, by his account, stand on its own foundation but be contingent on one... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Toward Resilient DemocracyCognitive Resources and ConstraintsJohn Teehan (bio)I. Introduction: The Cognitive Science of ReligionAmerican Immanence, an important and insightful work, offers an analysis of the existential crisis facing American democracy, and a possible path through this crisis. In developing this path, Michael Hogue asks, "can the feeling and awareness of the precarious value of life …awaken us to the precious depths of immanence, to living as if this, our (...) one and only world, matters ultimately?"1 Such an awakening, he argues, is vital to developing a "resilient democracy." I believe the answer to his question is "yes," and a positive answer to this profound question is sufficient warrant for exploring the path Hogue sets out. However, there is another question, one with broader implications: can this moral vision be adopted on a wide enough scale to attain the critical mass necessary to develop a democracy sufficiently resilient to weather this crisis? I will explore this second question using the insights derived from cognitive science, and particularly from the cognitive science of religion. This approach picks up on Hogue's invitation to interpret religion "within the evolutionary contexts of natural history,"2 and concurs with his claim that in "demystifying religion" an "evolutionary account …opens the way to a religious experience."3The Cognitive Science of Religion (CSR) is grounded in an evolutionary understanding of human cognitive and emotional processes, as these processes have developed to enable the species to respond to the challenges of survival and reproduction in dynamic environments, both physical and social. These cognitive tools were not shaped to discern some pre-given reality, but rather to serve the practical goals of natural beings embedded in natural situations. CSR, then, is congruent with the immanental philosophy, grounded in pragmatism, that Hogue develops in his book. Indeed, it can be argued that the methodology of CSR implicitly entails a pragmatist epistemology4. The various [End Page 65] mental tools and resultant religious beliefs and rituals all serve the ultimate goal of successful action within natural situations. CSR, then, can provide an empirical account of at least some of the processes that would be involved in actualizing an immanental political theology, and may identify some of the cognitive obstacles to that project.It is beyond the scope of this essay to set out a detailed account of CSR, but it will suffice to introduce some general tenets that have played a seminal role in the field.5 Those elements of a cultural system that we would deem religious are derived from natural cognitive processes that evolved to allow our earliest ancestors to successfully navigate an uncertain and dangerous environment.6 As an example, let's consider the gods, understanding by the "gods" any of the various beings that might commonly be termed "supernatural" (e.g., gods, spirits, ghosts, demons, fairies, divine ancestors, etc.). Belief in gods is theorized to flow, in part, from natural cognitive mechanisms for the detection of agents (that is, beings that act with intent). The ability to detect such beings—beings that might pose a danger—is essential to surviving in an uncertain and dangerous world. This ability was so vital that natural selection favored the evolution of a cognitive process for detecting agents that is hypersensitive.7 Detecting the presence of an agent when none is actually present is a much safer error than failing to detect an actual predator, and so this cognitive strategy could regularly give rise to false positives.Detecting the presence of an agent is the beginning phase of devising effective action, but to determine how to respond to this perceived agent, we must make sense of its possible intent. Therefore, we do not merely perceive a presence, we ascribe intention and purpose to that agent. In doing so, we engage the mental process termed Theory of Mind (ToM).8 Detecting the [End Page 66] action of agents, and determining intention and purpose, are vital to successful action. In a dangerous and uncertain world—i.e. the world in which humans have lived for millennia—these skills are essential to survival, and it follows that natural selection would favor cognitive processes that erred on the side of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Bridge From Analysis to Action:Psychodynamic Analyses of Religion and Michael S. Hogue's American ImmanenceAJ Turner (bio)I. IntroductionThe purpose of this essay is to work constructively with Michael S. Hogue's groundbreaking American Immanence: Democracy for an Uncertain World to demonstrate how psychodynamic analyses of religion are essential theoretical allies in the fight for resilient democracy. The "revolution in mind"1 that psychodynamic approaches contribute, especially in their analyses of religion, (...) both complements and complicates socio-political theory as a whole. In the improvisational spirit of "yes-and," the goal here is not to identify and decry the failures and shortcomings of Hogue's theopolitical vision but rather to inspire the recovery of a sibling discourse—a kind of "rebirth of a forgotten alternative"2—that also draws deeply from the American immanental tradition in order to add psychodynamic depth to Hogue's timely and important analysis. Psychodynamic theories of religion shed light on how symbolic identifications, including and especially ultimate concerns, structure personal and collective experience. By engaging religion and theology sympathetically, constructively, and creatively, theorists such as Rollo May, Gordon Allport, Karen Horney, Erich Fromm, and Ernest Becker departed from the skepticism, reductionism, and dismissal that characterized psychoanalytic analyses of religion in the wake of Freud.3 Each of these figures, and especially Becker whose work will be a focus in this essay, are noteworthy interlocutors for extending Hogue's theopolitical theorizing of resilient democracy, particularly in how they drew unique inspiration from the American immanental tradition [End Page 44] in their social analyses. In this respect, they provide a more robust theorization of the psychosocial conditions of the associational ethos needed to connect Hogue's conception of resilient democracy with forms of agonistic organization and democratic activism. Briefly stated, psychodynamic approaches are a helpful bridge for connecting these proposals to strategies of organization, their impediments, and collective action.In this way, both psychodynamic analyses of religion and Hogue's theopolitical innovation insist that no revolutionary political change is possible, and certainly not of the kind or scale needed to counter our wickedly entangled global crises, without a deep engagement with theological imaginaries. They differ, however, in their theoretical aims. Whereas Hogue compellingly argues for the political upshot of a theology deriving from the American immanental tradition, psychodynamic analysts of religion focus on the function of ultimate concerns in individual and collective life. In other words, American Immanence rests on a methodology of analyzing the philosophical and theological assumptions that have contributed to our climate crises and then presenting clear and compelling articulation of an alternative paradigm meant to open up new ways of being. In contrast psychodynamic analyses leverage conceptual clarity of psychic reality for the fundamentally therapeutic aim of transformation. At their best, both approaches share what could be called an etiological orientation to ontological questions in order to provide liberative alternatives through rational understanding and clarification, but the terrain, and thus the problems they hope to mitigate in their analyses are focused differently. Extending the visual metaphor, they are different lenses highlighting different areas of the same landscape. Furthermore, it must be said that neither are sufficient in themselves, but the psychodynamic theorists of religion to be highlighted in this essay share deeply with Hogue's heading in American Immanence.II. A Problematic AssumptionIn emphasizing and attempting to explain4 the role of non-rational processes in the both individual and social processes of perception and organization of experience, psychodynamic theories confound a widely held and problematic assumption that the triumph of rational analysis is the hallmark for building the society to which we should aspire. Political theory in general, [End Page 45] especially as it has taken its cues from a rationalist legacy about the inherently liberating force of Reason, has been weighted toward an assumption that its task of exposing the mystifications of power would suffice in inspiring more "rational" and therefore necessarily equitable social organization. This speaks to the longstanding socio-political interest in "consciousness raising" tactics, which are often meant to dispel "false consciousness." It even comes across in the emphases of Deweyan pragmatists on education. Psychologists of all stripes point out that this approach... (shrink)