Dissident Philosophers: Voices Against the Political Current of the Academy

321 Pages·2021·5.747 MB·English

by  T. Allan Hillman, Tully Borland

Dissident Philosophers

Dissident Philosophers
Voices Against the Political
Current of the Academy
Edited by
T. Allan Hillman and Tully Borland
ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD
Lanham • Boulder • New York • London
Published by Rowman & Littlefield
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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hillman, T. Allan, 1978– editor. | Borland, Tully, 1974– editor.
Title: Dissident philosophers : voices against the political current of the
academy / edited by T. Allan Hillman and Tully Borland.
Description: Lanham, Maryland : Rowman & Littlefield, [2021] | Includes
bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “This collection gives
voice to philosophers who are at odds with the predominant leftist
political trends of academic philosophy. Chapters detail personal
experiences and reflections on the intellectual viability of a
non-left-leaning political philosophy, arguing that conservative thought
has an important place in contemporary academia”— Provided by
publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021042836 (print) | LCCN 2021042837 (ebook) | ISBN
9781538159040 (Cloth : acid-free paper) | ISBN 9781538159057 (ePub)
Subjects: LCSH: Political science—Philosophy. | Conservatism.
Classification: LCC JA71 .D535 2021 (print) | LCC JA71 (ebook) | DDC
320.01—dc23/eng/20211012
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021042836
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021042837
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American
National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library
Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.
Contents
1 Introduction: Thoughtcrime Revealed 1
T. Allan Hillman and Tully Borland
2 Up from Political Liberalism (but Not Entirely) 29
Francis Joseph Beckwith
3 Don’t Throw Out the Tinfoil Hats Just Yet: A Libertarian Defense
of “Unwarranted” Conspiracy Theories 51
John Bickle and Marica Bernstein
4 Under the Copybook Headings: Rudyard Kipling’s Ethics of Civilization 65
Daniel Bonevac
5 Academia: Hooligans at Play 83
Jason Brennan
6 The Importance of Cultural Preservation 107
Rafael De Clercq
7 Learning All the Wrong Lessons 123
Dan Demetriou
8 The Metaphysical Foundations of Conservatism 141
Edward Feser
9 Reflections of an Apostate 155
Michael Huemer
10 Individualism and Rights: Libertarianism in Academia 171
Eric Mack
v
vi Contents
11 Correcting the Strawmen: Why Most Evangelical Christians
Are Political Conservatives 187
J. P. Moreland
12 Left and Right: A Pox on Both Their Houses 205
Jan Narveson
13 Away from Omelas 215
Michael Pakaluk
14 The Curious Case of the Double Dissident 229
Neven Sesardić
15 The Humbling of an Impatient Cosmopolitan 247
Steven C. Skultety
16 From Democrat to Dissident 261
William F. Vallicella
17 Better Somewhere Than Anywhere 279
Robert Westmoreland
Index 301
About the Contributors 311
1
Introduction
Thoughtcrime Revealed
T. Allan Hillman (University of South Alabama)
and Tully Borland (Independent Scholar)
In 1902, at the first meeting of the American Philosophical Association (APA),
philosopher (and inaugural president) J. E. Creighton ruminated on the formation
of the first national society of philosophers in America, its purposes and designs, as
well as its probable effectiveness as a symbol of solidarity for a discipline noted for
the diverse interests, methods, and views of its constituent members. In the latter
vein, he observed that “philosophical theories, like theological tenets, are so closely
related to what is most intimate and fundamental to our personal nature, and, conse-
quently, so suffused with emotion, that it is difficult to be tolerant and fair with those
who differ from us.”1 But more than an apologetic for the APA, or even a hopeful
forecast of its future success, his address is a sort of early twentieth-century “State of
the Union Address” for the discipline as a whole. Indeed, his talk conveys, even if
inadvertently, a sense of what an academic philosopher is: one who appreciates the
historical importance of the discipline without failing to articulate topics of current
concern; one who overcomes the burden of teaching in order to produce scholar-
ship in the cooperative endeavor that is philosophical inquiry; and, of course, one
who resists the temptation to surrender the important questions to the “objective”
sciences. Much can be learned from his essay about the nature of the academic phi-
losopher at this time; in fact, much can be learned about what the ordinary academic
philosopher—taking Professor Creighton to be just such a creature—thinks the
nature of philosophy is. There is, then, something of historical interest, something
of psychological depth, and something of sociological consequence to be gained by
attending to his reflections.
We do not intend to rehearse Professor Creighton’s concerns or his conclusions
here. Instead, we too—as ordinary academic philosophers—would like to take a mo-
ment to assess the philosophical discipline as it stands today, and at this time over a
1
2 T. Allan Hillman and Tully Borland
century later, ruminate on topics consequential not only to our fellow philosophers
in the here and now but also to those, perhaps, in later generations. Ours, too, then,
is something akin to a State of the Union Address. Like Professor Creighton, we do
not intend to confine ourselves to the APA or its purposes, but our aim is to catalog
a series of reflections on our discipline as a whole. Unlike him, we intend to explore
(in a rudimentary fashion, of course) the social and political terrain of practicing phi-
losophers and their institutions in the Western world, the United States in particular.
Let us emphasize that in this essay, we are not engaging with other philosophers in
rational discourse, as that is not our aim; instead, we are reporting and offering com-
mentary on various facets of our discipline—and those who practice it—that raise
serious concerns for those who do not promote what we take to be leftist2 group-
think. What’s more, we shall do so from admittedly personal vantage points, offering
anecdotal stories, autobiographical vignettes, and general (if not gentle) criticism in
the spirit of many of the essays to follow in this volume.
Speaking of the essays, they are all written by academic philosophers with decid-
edly nonmainstream political views. By nonmainstream, we mean “nonmainstream
in the academy” insofar as several of the authors would likely count themselves
members in good standing of the American Red State contingent and so be main-
stream in that sense. Still, while most of the authors self-identify as politically to the
right on the standard spectrum, others eschew the label (or perhaps eschew the left/
right dichotomy as a whole). “Political right” is an admittedly broad term, ranging
from American conservatives to British Tories, from religious right to secular right,
from libertarian to authoritarian. What unites this otherwise disparate group of phi-
losophers, then, is their dissent from the predominant political trends of academic
philosophy, political trend(s) primarily associated with leftism of one variety or
other.3 The goal of this volume is to represent a broad constituency of political phi-
losophies and perspectives at variance with the prevailing political sentiments of the
academy, and so the essays are partly autobiographical in nature (detailing personal
experiences that have influenced these philosophers from childhood on) and partly
philosophical, reflecting on the intellectual viability of a right-leaning (or decidedly
non-left-leaning) political philosophy or some segment of it.4
One aspect that makes this undertaking particularly special (we think) is the fact
that ours is an academic discipline of wordsmiths—or, more precisely, “ideasmiths.”
Though the mythology of the lone wolf philosopher suggests otherwise, our smithing
rarely takes place in isolation but instead occurs within, and in service to, various in-
stitutional venues. Proverbially, this is just to say that, as philosophers, we wear differ-
ent hats on different days, and our introduction will focus primarily on this headwear.
Maybe on one particular week of the year, ours is “the APA member” hat.5 We
attend, for example, the Eastern meeting, go to and perhaps even present at a cer-
tain session, reconnect with our peers at other colleges and universities, meet and
greet and maybe even interview a few job candidates, and the like. More usually,
however, our hat is “university faculty,” and we chair committee meetings, attend
graduation ceremonies, and complain about our students. Or we’re tenured mem-
Introduction 3
bers of the Philosophy Department, and we teach classes, serve as advisors to ma-
jors, write letters of recommendation, and complain about our students. Or we’re
active participants on some professional or generally public internet sites and use
our well-known blog handles to post on Facebook, Twitter, and assorted internet
blogs in order to discourse with friends and colleagues, stay in touch with former
students (about whom we still occasionally complain), and attempt generally to
influence popular culture with our expertise. Inasmuch as all of these hats may
have some degree of purchase on our time and attention, the organization of this
Introduction will accord with each: the ideasmith in the APA, in the university, in
the department, and in the world at large.
Before proceeding and in keeping with the designs of this volume, we ought to
say something about our angle. Like the authors of the essays, we take a dissenting
view of the leftward political conformity found in the academy. We, the editors of
this volume, are both right-wingers in the traditional sense, and neither of us has ever
felt particularly compelled to hide the fact, even if we both exercised enough practi-
cal rationality in graduate school to refrain from advertising our voting predilections
to all and sundry. There were, though, ironies aplenty. One of us took a course on
Rawls taught by a self-professed Marxist, never thinking for a moment that it would
become necessary to actually defend John Rawls, much less argue against claims that
he was too much of a conservative. It’s true that working in the history of philosophy
helps us to remain insulated. Not that historians of philosophy are typically any more
comfortable with the politically unorthodox than are, say, bioethicists, but working
on Leibniz’s metaphysics or Duns Scotus’s ethics seldom offers public opportuni-
ties to celebrate Rush Limbaugh or castigate Nancy Pelosi. While we are sure there
are journal referees who’d likely award us approval points for smuggling in a pithy
“Trump is a fascist” footnote, it has just never seemed worth the effort. Thankfully
we do not work in those highly politically charged areas like analytic metaphysics,
where attempting to demarcate “substantive” from “non-substantive” metaphysical
issues may—as Professor Ted Sider has learned—incite an entire subdiscipline.6
But there’s never been for us anything like a “coming out” party, where we show
up to campus one day sporting a “You can’t defend the 1st without the 2nd” base-
ball cap and a “Socialism works for those who don’t” T-shirt. Neither of us has ever
really experienced a sense of fear stemming from being “found out” as right-leaning
(although, as we note below, our experience in this vein seems to be in the minority).
We suspect that most of our colleagues have long had suspicions about our political
views even if they never asked outright. We are not, after all, terribly angry, unhappy
people who complain incessantly about (all too often apparent) injustice and op-
pression; and so that may have tipped our hand. Our attitude, we think, is simply
typical of the conservative disposition: “Why should [insert latest leftist declaration
of outrage] matter here and now to me?” We are philosophers. Our job is to educate
students in the methods of critical reasoning, the history of philosophical thought,
and the general love of wisdom for its own sake. Such an undertaking need not
be, and in most cases should not be, political in any interesting sense at all. We’ve