Ayer on a G string (a touch of philosophy).(Philosophy & Ideas)

WHEN THE SUBJECT MATTER of small, incidental observations recurs in otherwise unconnected accounts of events, we begin to suspect that such observations are something more than just chance happenings, peculiar to a single situation. We might even start to think about a general rule. When Europeans first saw the platypus, it seemed very odd indeed for a mammal to share certain anatomical features with a duck. Perhaps it was just a "one-off" or freak. As a reflection of its bizarre nature it was given the name Ornithorhynchus paradoxus in 1800. Nowadays, the platypus is called Ornithorhynchus anatinus and its features are not regarded as odd at all. Indeed, if we saw one with ordinary, mammalian-type feet and jaws, we would consider that very odd. With this little backgrounder, I might now move on to a more recent example of Humean conjunctions.

In Quadrant in September 2001, David Armstrong gave a review of a new biography of the "father" of Logical Positivism, A.J. Ayer (known to his friends as Freddie). Incidental to the main theme was a short paragraph describing Freddie's behaviour at table. More precisely, it described the behaviour of Freddie's hands and what they got up to. In fact, what they got up to under the table was the thigh of David's wife! Now, as I say, this was quite incidental to the main story on Ayer, and the reader, perhaps having chuckled or tut-tutted a little at this point, moved on to weightier philosophical matters. For me, the whole thing might have ended there, but then, in the November 2003 issue of Quadrant, I read that the hand of Bertrand Russell (whose owner was known to his friends as Bertie) had similarly strayed, and was felt, as an empirical reality on the upper thigh, by Peter Ryan's wife.

Now, both Peter and (more importantly) his wife, very graciously made light of this, just as David and his wife did in the case of Ayer. Maybe they were overcome by the presence of greatness--but surely not to the extent of droit de seigneur? Perhaps this sort of tactile exploration was expected of a British knight or lord! After all, there is a long line of precedents and, in England, social elevation and randy behaviour seem to go hand in hand. I would not be the first to suggest that prospective candidates for knighthood should be doctored before being knighted! In the case of Russell and Ayer. I must confess I would not have acted in such as Christian manner as did Armstrong and Ryan. Very likely I would have taken to them with whatever suitable heavy object was at hand and imposed some logically positive sense impressions in the very broadest analytical tradition. Very un-Humean impressions--the sort that does not fade in memory, and that serves as its own verification principle.

With these two incidents both accompanying the expression of British Empiricism, I am beginning to think of "something far more deeply interfused", as Wordsworth might say. I am reminded of a memorable line from Max Beerbohm, who described Beau Brummell's evening wear as exhibiting "certain congruities of dark cloth". In the case of Ayer and Russell, we might speak of certain congruities of philosophical outlook and personal behaviour.

But let us divert from this for a moment and consider a thought experiment. Replay the two hand-groping incidents but instead of Lord Bertie and Sir Freddie, have a couple of bishops or headmasters. All of us would be outraged. Well, not quite all. The production team at Sixty Minutes or A Current Affair, as we well know from recent events, would be beside themselves with joy. If you can't kick a priest for God, at least kick one for the ratings. Why would the rest of us be outraged, though? The answer, I think, is quite clear. We regard bishops and headmasters as having positions of trust, particularly in regard to those placed under their care or tutelage, and to betray this trust is a very serious business. But even if the gropers were not bishops or headmasters but just ordinary blokes--plumbers, gardeners, estate agents, essayists or gravediggers (there is no significance in this list)--we would still regard them as "dirty old men" , to say me least.

Why then, do we not feel the same way when an eminent philosopher misbehaves? I confess that I do not know. Surely they have positions of trust in respect of their students--indeed, of society in general? I propose a very simple test for those who ...