The Varieties of Naturalistic Philosophy

If a pushy philosopher were to back me into a corner and force me to choose one or the other, naturalism or supernaturalism, I would choose naturalism. But I’d find myself wanting to ask, as Socrates might, what is meant by “nature”?

Physics becomes metaphysics as soon as the word–”nature”–is pronounced. The logos of language of its own accord compels conscious creatures like us to ask the fateful question: “What is nature?” I’ve heard many definitions, each with its own interesting implications for any attempt to interpret experiential reality. Plato suggested that nature was the life of the All. Aristotle posited that nature was the sum total of phenomenal/physical beings. Descartes thought it was energetic vortexes circling in an extended plenum. Newton thought it was atoms colliding in the void of space (space, meanwhile, he considered to be the omniscient sensorium of God).

We might also reframe the question by asking about the proper relationship between the logos which asks and the nature which responds. From this there may emerge important epistemological, aesthetic, and ethical queries, none of which are anything like the pursuits of the specialized natural sciences. These methods of inquiry pose their own kinds of problems and devise their own kinds of solutions, solutions which, though they are relevant (we hope!), still differ greatly from the kinds of solutions sought out by physicists and chemists.

“The recourse to metaphysics,” says Whitehead, “is like throwing a match into the powder magazine. It blows up the whole arena” (The Concept of Nature, 29).

Once the question of nature has been asked, it seems we come to find ourselves in a strange and imaginal land. Appearances can no longer be taken for granted as real. Knowledge comes to seem unfounded. Plato wrote from such a mythical place of not-knowing in the Timaeus, even daring to offer several names for it including chora, matrixreceptacle, nurse, and nurturer. He depicted this matrix hovering between the being of invisible forms and the becoming of visible matter, able to take on any definite form and thereby grant it birth into the physical realm, while itself always remaining formless. I interpret Plato’s nurturing “third kind” between the eidos and chaos not as a fantasy land, but as the event-place of reality’s eruption into concrete experience. Necessary ideas and contingent matter are both abstractions from the real. The real comes to be always in-between.

To even frame a polemic around the dichotomy “naturalism v. supernaturalism,” no matter whether one’s aim to choose the atheistic or theological option, is already to implicate oneself in a logic of transcendence, since each term is defined only by its exclusion of the other. A more friendly inquiry (born out of intellectual philia rather than intellectual polemos) was that of Spinoza, who thought not in the exclusive terms of either God or Nature, but in the integral terms of both God and Nature.

Approaching the metaphysical problems posed by naturalism philosophically, rather than polemically, allows one to delight in the multiplication of possibilities and in the intensification of wonder, rather than in the rush to simplify and explain.

Levi Bryant recently offered some thoughts, and some fighting words, on behalf of the naturalistic interpretation of reality (Skholiast has responded in a way that contextualized Bryant’s remarks for me quite nicely). Bryant’s real enemy in these posts is the Continental tradition of philosophy, which he suggests was founded in the 19th century as an anthropocentric reaction against the tremendously technologically successful (but psychologically traumatizing) scientific naturalism first developed in the 16th century. Bryant’s naturalism has three major requirements: 1) no supernatural causes, 2) no metaphysical telos, 3) culture must be natural. A implication of these requirements is that materiality and insensate efficient forces are to be the only real factors operating anywhere in the natural world. Bryant also rejects the idea of nature constructed in the imaginations of reductionists, eliminativists, and positivists, preferring his own “machine-oriented ontology.”

As I said at the beginning, if the dilemma were posed as such, I’d also want to pursue naturalist over supernaturalist accounts of reality. I think Bryant has rightly avoided the blunders of the other ideas of nature floating around among materialists. His alternative materialist ontology is of great interest to me, if only because on some level I do enjoy the creativity that can be unleashed by polemic (“War is the father of all things…” Heraclitus). For the past four of five years of my graduate study at CIIS, I have had a handful of guides helping to shape my initial approach to questions concerning the nature of nature. Of this handful, I’ve grown most familiar with the voices of Alfred North Whitehead and Friedrich Joseph Schelling. As far as naturalisms go, I’d toss as many of their books into my metaphysical wagon as my horses are able to carry. Spare me your universal acids and logics of extinction, I’ll take an originally duplicitous nature animated by a mytho-logic of creativity.

Of course,  the journey through the dessert of the real cannot be completed only by imbibing the spilt ink of dead names. Thoughts must boil up from out of the heat of my own blood and words must be uttered from out of the air of my own lungs. I’m working on it… But let us not forget this is also a conspiracy. Though we wage war with symbolic soldiers on paper battlefields, we still think our thoughts, breathe our words, and take our earthly steps together. There need be no polemic between a machine- and an organic-orientation toward reality if we are able to approach their proper relation in a friendly (i.e., a philosophical) way. Schelling’s Naturphilosophie is an attempt to account for both the appearance of mechanism and the reality of organism. He writes:

the particular successions of causes and effects (that delude us with the appearance of mechanism) disappear as infinitely small straight lines in the universal curvature of the organism in which the world itself persists (On the World Soul, trans. Iain Hamilton Grant, Collapse: Philosophical Research and DevelopmentVI, 70.)

Similarly, from the perspective of Whitehead’s philosophy of organism, physics and chemistry do not study the non-living components of living ecologies; rather, they are themselves the study of living ecologies at scales other than the biological, tracking the migratory behavior of electrons and protons rather than gnats and zebras. I hearken back to the original meaning of the Greek word physis here, which did not refer to the motion of dead stuff through empty space, but to the growth of living form in teleological time. “Life,” in the context of the organism-oriented ontology I’m trying to construct, is not bios but zoö, where the latter comes to designate existence as such. What exists as such are living organisms.

Bryant denies to naturalism anything but material and efficient causality. I am not aware of any coherent interpretation of quantum physics based solely on material and efficient causation. Nor am I aware of any coherent explanation for biological phylo- or ontogenesis that does not employ at least formal if not also final causes. Unless we are willing to ignore much of “what we are aware of in perception” (Whitehead’s definition of the nature studied by science), it is hard not to grant more than the blind conveyance of forces to nature. To be fair, Bryant does think biological purposes can emerge on accident out of the evolutionary algorithm. Human ideals are emergent realities, new features of the world. I’d argue that telos is no accident, but rather, like life, it is of the very essence of existence. To exist is to be a reason. Nature is not aimless, but nor is its telos designed by a transcendent demiurge. Nature is a creative process of birth and perishing persuaded into enduring patterns of harmony by a participating Eros. Harmony is not a metaphysical necessity, though both Creativity and Eros are. Cosmic harmony is an achievement, the contingent result of the values of a society of organisms characteristic of a particular cosmic epoch. Cosmos need not always emerge from chaos; yet it tends to.

Bryant leaves open the possibility that the world’s great religious teachers might have important metaphysical lessons to teach us. One of my projects has been to try to argue for the relevance of religious imaginaries in combatting precisely the sort of anthropocentrism that Bryant claims naturalism vanquishes (see for example this essay on a Christian spiritual response to the social and ecological crises of our day).


6 Comments Add yours

  1. terenceblake says:

    For me the most convincing argument against Bryant’s proclamations on naturalism is heuristic and historical: much of what is important in science was created by scientists who did not situate themselves in a naturalist paradigm, as you argue here: We can add Newton, whose inspiration was theological and alchemical, and even Wolfgang Pauli who tried to create a wider paradigm based on combining physics with the jungian unconscious.
    Another important objection is captured in your title “The Varieties of Naturalistic Philosophy” with its Jamesian resonance: one can be a pluralist (which Bryant is not) and a defender of naturalism. The pluralism will nuance the naturalism in making it less metaphysical: naturalism is an open research programme and not a fait accompli; other paradigms can give content too, enrich, and complexify the naturalist paradigm; each scientific style of research will have its own naturalism: a Newtonian naturalism , if we could amputate the theological substrate from Newton’s research paradigm, will be different to, and I would argue less satisfying and fecund than, a Machian naturalism etc
    A further question is the role of the unconscious or of what Hillman calls the “imaginal”. Bryant gives it a very reduced role, limiting it to a sort of regional ontology inside a literalist naturalist paradigm. Deleuze and Guattari’s notion of the unconscious in parallel with James Hillman’s idea of the anima mundi suggest a very different perspective, where the role of the unconscious is much greater and more pervasive.

  2. Adam Robbert says:

    Of course I like the appeal to pluralism here, Matt (I think we’re dead in the water without it). However, I’m with Tim Morton and Bruno Latour on this one: Nature isn’t an ontological category it’s a conceptual one (and an unhelpful one at that!) and leads to a lot of damaged thinking; or, as Latour puts it in the materials for his upcoming Gifford Lectures, “Nature” is itself a theological category like “Religion.” To pit the one against the other is to wage a battle between to invincible terms; it’s always going to end ugly, unproductively. The same can be said for Latour’s other favorite master category to pick apart, “Matter.” Matter is also a concept we use to generalize the extreme heterogeneity of particular things, but there is no matter or materialism as such. So, for me, quite a lot of heat without light in these debates.

  3. Leon says:

    That “pushy” philosopher is also a “poseur” naturalist. If he spent more than an hour reading Neville’s process naturalism or Corrington’s ecstatic naturalism then he could easily see how anemic and reductive (and *non* naturalistic) his own position truly is.

  4. terenceblake says:

    Naturalism seems to be whatever LB wants it to be at any one moment. It would be a mistake to see “naturalism” as a concept. The conversion to OOO exonerates you of all that, no more concepts, all you need are key terms of infinite plasticity. You are born again free to talk about everything but never say anything. Leon you are still doing philosophy, asking for definitions, giving (gasp!) counter-examples, looking for arguments. You are too theological, you still believe that God is in the details. Next thing you will be looking for serious and reasoned replies, instead of bluff and rodomontade.

  5. Will says:

    The word ‘nature’ refers to something other than itself. Such words are called ‘predicates.’ Thus we speak of ‘the nature of’ things. Consciousness is a similar term; it is always ‘consciousness of’ an object. “Seeing’ would hardly have any meaning if it were not related to an object that is seen.

    To attempt to comprehend Nature without understanding the subject it is the nature of (or avoiding the dangling participle, of which it is the nature) , is due to the above mentioned misconception. When we speak of Mother Nature, the concept of the impregnating Father is implied. Mother means that offspring are involved, and the nurturing of that offspring. But offspring are not merely the product of the mother, but of the mother impregnated by the Father. The seed-giving father, or the spirit of life within the womb of Nature is the essential actualizing ingredient, without which material (maternal) nature would be lifeless and dead.

    Trying to understand what ‘material’ means without understanding its connection with ‘maternal’ is again missing the important concept it is intended to express. No wonder there is so much confusion. People don’t know what the hell they are talking about. They think themselves great scholars and thinkers, but really they are complete fools. and they have absolutely no idea that this is the case. At least a fool, who understand his own foolishness, has some wisdom. This was Socrates’ great insight.

    Nature is not mere naturalism, without the supernatural impregnation of life., Nature is based on life, not matter. There is plenty of matter on Mars, or anywhere else in the solar system, but there is no Nature there, because there is no apparent life there. Without life, even the simplest blade of grass would not exist. With all their science, all the scientists in the world together can never make a blade of grass. Only life can make a blade of grass, ‘Only God can make a tree.’ The poetry of scientists written in the words of chemistry and physics, is not capable of doing what supernatural life alone can do. Life is eternal, a non material sentient energy that animates inanimate/receptive matter. Matter (mother) is also not dead, but the dance of mother and father form a necessary whole that cannot be disassembled and still retain any meaning in their separated isolation. Can THAT which has no being for other (relationship) in the form of offspring or conjugal mate be called mother?

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