Currently, philosophy often enjoys the status of being a critical discipline – a discipline not grounded on authoritative beliefs but as a discipline critically examining such beliefs. Given that philosophy can also be seen as a form of life, for instance, this view of philosophy as a critical discipline is of course not without alternatives. So how did this image of philosophy become so popular? There is of course more than one answer, but writing up a paper on the Condemnation of 1277 made me realise that this view of philosophy might have been pushed greatly by being targeted through this and other condemnations in the 13^th century. (If you want to get a clearer idea about the condemned view, the paper is here.) Here are two of the condemned propositions:

“Man may not be content with authority to have certainty about any issue.” (Proposition 150)

“One should not believe anything unless it is self-evident or can be manifested from self-evident principles.” (Proposition 37)

One thing that’s interesting about the view represented by the condemned propositions is that it is taken as a rejection of authority tout court. In being critical, the view seems to reject anything requiring authority or the testimony of others. However, what goes often unnoticed is that this view relies on something that is not conceptualised as an authority but taken to be very authoritative: human reason.

Apart from endorsing all sorts of ableisms, this view obscures that human reason is not just a tool but also turns out to be taken as a source of claims. If we restrict claims to what is knowable through our natural faculties and exclude claims going beyond the pertinent evidence, crucial tenets, such as the omnipotence of God or the creation of the universe, fall away immediately. In this sense, second-order claims about standards of evidence directly affect first-order beliefs. Arguably, a lack of evidence for something does not entail the inexistence of that something. Thus, the lack of evidence might grant being agnostic about something’s existence, but not the denial of existence. However, quite a number of condemned propositions (50-65) seem infer restrictions to God’s omnipotence. As is well-known, the whole understanding of the world order depends on whether we assume the possibilityof divine interventions or not.

In disguising authoritative first-order claims as merely resting on “self-evidence” or “natural reason”, philosophers mangage to sell their view as the mere outcome of critical reflection, rather than reliance on authority. As I see it, the image conjured up by the condemned propositions and the subsequent interpretations helped to create the myth of the ruthlessly rationalist philosopher, as associated with the so-called Enlightenment or indeed with early analytic philosophy. In his Don’t Think for Yourself, Peter Adamson provides a pertinent picture of this view. Taking philosophy as starting from “blank slate” rather than from some authoritative belief means

“… that it would indeed be possible, in sufficiently ideal conditions and with sufficient talent, for a single human being to become an accomplished intellectual with no help apart from resources of the natural environment. Those of us who did not grow up alone on a remote island depend on teachers and routinely take authorities at their word. But there is no absolute need to turn to other humans to achieve enlightenment. You can, quite literally, do it yourself.” (Don’t Think for Yourself, 2022, xii)

According to this image, a proper philosopher rejects reliance on authority and rather thinks for themselves, ideally relying on nothing but natural faculties. This and related images capture and transmit metaphilosophical assumptions. The disagreement figuring in the Condemnation of 1277 affords an image of Enlightenment philosophy avant la lettre. Thinking of this image as opposed to another kind of philosophy allows for portraying those disagreeing with the supposed Enlightenment philosophers as irrationalists. In this sense, the image of the “blank slate” Enlightenment philosopher comes with a cluster of predicates that are mutually reinforcing in historiography, philosophy, and even propaganda.

This blank slate image is quite prominent to this day. One element of this image is the idea that philosophy needs to return to and start from a blank slate, i.e. a state without superstition, prejudice, pseudo-problems, linguistic vexations etc., as it is propagated by some of the condemned propositions, and more famously in Descartes’s Meditations, Locke’s “underlabourer” in the Essay, Wittgenstein’s ideal of purification in the Tractatus-Logico Philosophicus, Carnap’s attack on metaphysics or the Letter against Derrida’s Honorary Degree.

What is it, then, that recommends this image of philosophy over other images of philosophy? As noted, it’s the supposedly undogmatic, instrumental, and critical character that makes philosophy of this kind seem particularly attractive and applicable. This image of purity lends itself to the assumption of political and ideological innocence. In this spirit, Hans-Johann Glock writes: “If the big philosophical beasts are anything to go by, then culpable political lapses may be rarer within the analytic movement than in continental philosophy.” (What is Analytic Philosophy, CUP 2008, 195) Accordingly, Glock thinks that “a failure of reason was a necessary condition to support the [Nazi’s] cause.” (164) This verdict is not only interesting as an expression of the enormous trust into the power of reason in analytic philosophy. It also contradicts Horkheimer and Adorno who would see a single-minded emphasis on reason as degenerating into reason instrumental to totalitarianism.

It’s important to note, though, that both the supposed instrumental character and the freedom from ideology seem to differ from the Aristotelian recommendation of philosophy as the best actualization of human nature, which is spelled out in tandem with the distinction of human reason from perception that we share with nonhuman animals and vegetative functions of the soul that we share with nonhuman animals and plants. But while the teleological hierarchy of the soul’s functions is no longer endorsed today, the distinctions from other psychological features (such as emotion) is still operative. This hierarchical view of psychological functions still privileges reason in distinguishing it from perception, desire, and emotions for instance. So the prioritizing of reason does not only construe it as nobler than belief (in authority), but also nobler than other cognitive, emotive, conative, and physiological functions. The upshot is that we inherit a certain reason-focused image of philosophy. Arguably, it rests on an understanding of philosophy that promotes a dismissive attitude towards faith or belief that is not fulfilling certain evidential standards. However, what remains mostly unsaid is that “natural reason” can be seen as an authority itself.