RICHARD RORTY (1931-2007)

By Barry Allen

Richard Rorty, America’s foremost philosopher, died last Friday, 8 June, at his home in Stanford, California. Professor Rorty was born in New York City in 1931. He was educated at the University of Chicago and Yale University. He taught for many years in the Philosophy Department at Princeton University. Later appointments took him to the University of Virginia, and to Stanford University, where he recently retired as Professor of Comparative Literature.
Rorty is almost single-handedly responsible for the rise of what is called “Neo  pragmatism?in contemporary Western thought. Pragmatism is a philosophy that began in America in the nineteenth century. It was the philosophy of William James and John Dewey. They emphasized action, experimentation, and creativity, over inherited tradition and formal routine. Their Pragmatism was supposed to be the first American philosophy, the first to speak of the American experience, which was felt (in America) to be importantly different from Europe. Pragmatism would be as radically new and different in philosophy as America was new and different in the world.
Unfortunately, Pragmatism didn’t survive the Second World War. After 1950, the center of American philosophy shifted away, under the influence of Logical Positivism and the Linguistic Analysis of Oxford and Cambridge. The works of Dewey and James came to seem quaint and unscientific, and were dismissed by America’s new so-called Analytic philosophers.
Everything changed after Richard Rorty’s first book, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature (1979). Suddenly, there was a fresh alternative to Analytic philosophy. The title of Rorty’s next book, Consequences of Pragmatism (1982), said it all. For the first time in nearly 50 years, Pragmatism was philosophically vital again.
Rorty went on to publish other books, including Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity (1989) and Achieving Our Country (1998). He claimed to be following James and Dewey, though his Pragmatism was not only new but different, changed by the experience of Analytic philosophy, in which Rorty was carefully trained. He learned as much from Ludwig Wittgenstein and Rudolf Carnap as from James and Dewey.
Yet Rorty did a lot to overcome the opposition that once divided Western philosophy between Analytic and so-called Continental philosophers, the latter emphasizing the ideas of recent European philosophers, like Martin Heidegger and Jacques Derrida. Rorty was well read on both sides, and brought into conversation thinkers normally held apart by the professional organization of philosophy, encouraging each side to see something worth while in the other, which he usually called “pragmatism.?
His “new?pragmatism is a highly original synthesis of classical American pragmatism, Analytic philosophy, and the ideas of recent European thinkers, including Nietzsche and Heidegger. Rorty emphasizes the power of language to transform the world. Anything, he said, can be made to

 look good or bad, depending on how we describe it. A self is a network of beliefs and desires, as plastic and changeable as one dares to be. The power of the imagination to invent new objects of hope and renew old ones is greater and more worthy of respect than the usual idols of Western theory—Knowledge, Science, and Truth.
Personally, Rorty was a quiet, gentle man, preferring to listen to others, terse in reply, and to some a little formidable. But he genuinely liked to listen, and would generously read and comment on the work of practically anyone who asked him. He opened his home to a steady flow of scholars from around the world, including many Chinese scholars traveling abroad. He was tireless in his own travel and in discussing his work with others. He visited China on two occasions, in 1984 and 2003, when there was a conference on his work at East China Normal University.
Those who experienced his hospitality knew him to be spontaneously and warmly generous—with his attention, his house, his table, his frankness, and easy sympathy. He loved nature. He was happiest tramping though mountain forests, binoculars ever ready to watch birds. He knew flowers, fruits, and mushrooms, reading the forest trails as he might a favorite passage in a book to which he happily returned again and again. Conversation on the quiet trails could be serious or light-hearted, frank and personal or almost metaphysical, from personal reminiscence to

Not indifferent to the critical judgment of others, I should say. More helpless in the face of it. My life would have been a lot easier if I really didn’t care about the judgment of others. But unfortunately, I feel it keenly; keener, perhaps, even than it is meant. But at the same time, I’m practically helpless in having to do things my own way. Certainly it’s been like that in my professional and academic life as a philosopher and teacher of philosophy. I was groomed by graduate school for the elite of contemporary academic philosophy, and threw the opportunity away to follow what seemed to me the intellectually most compelling path—one that what deeply unaccept—able to the professors of my graduate school (except my supervisor, who subsequently left for another university). I was made to pay for this misbehaviour by being cut out of all grace and favor and left to fend for myself. It was only by the good () of my supervisor that I was able to get a teaching position. After that, publication was a constant struggle with disappointment and rejection. But I persevered, eventually won tenure and promotion from my university, and gradually came to accept what seemed to be my () to be on the marging of what is intellectually and academically acceptable in the small, silly world of academic philosophy in the English-speaking world at the end of the twentieth century.

At this moment, as I write those these words, I am in the ancient town of Lijiang, in China’s Yunnan province, in the foothills of the Himaliya Mountains. I sit at a table in my hotel, with a view over the rooftops to the mountains. I am alone. Jane is in our room. She my be reading David Copperfield, as reading about excursions we can make from Lijiang, or sleeping. Probably sleeping, despite the nap she took, with her head on my lap, on a bench in a square in the old city earlier this afternoon. In this ancient town, in the shadow of the great Himalayas, it is probably as far away from everything that I’ve ever been.

I’ve traveled a long way in my life—my life so far, as I shall insist on () it, as I feel there is still a great deal more living to do. Travel not just physically, geographically, but also spiritually, mentally intellectually. Jane criticizes me for not being humble, but I feel misunderstood. I think I am self-effacing, and refrain from putting myself forward, often to my disadvantage. Further, I think that what Chinese regard as humility is hypocritical, a form of humility without the content, a form fully consistent with extraordinary egocentricity, or so it seems to me in the Chinese men I have observed. And, anyway, if I refuse, whether from humility or some other motive, to speak of myself, this story will be very incomplete. So I have to say that I am conscious of being rather ahead of many of my contemporian in the academic, intellectual, and especially philosophical world. I feel like I have traveled through lands they are still desperately trying to find a settle in –that I have gone through them, taken in what they offer, and moved on, which often still struggle to figure out where they are.

That’s been to pattern of my intellectual life ever since I started having an intellectual life, as a university student in the late 1970s. over and over again, I have found some big topic or field of investigation and research, worked at it very diligently for some gears, till I felt I had taken all it had to offer—certainly all it had to offer me. Then moved on to some other. Thus did I travel from ‘analytic’ philosophy to ‘continental’ philosophy, from academic philosophy in all contemporary form to the new possibilities I learned from my () friend Grand, an () with little patience for academic philosophy, with whom I enjoying () conversations in the last five years of his life, and which inspired the highly unacceptable ideas of my second book, KNOWLEDGE AND CIVILIZATION。They intellectual journeys include the excursion into Chinese philosophy, as well as the exciting experience of linking philosophy, with hard physical discipline in the practice of martial arts.

Besides thse intellectual journies, which (apart from martial arts) might as well have been taken while at my writing table, I have been taken every opportunity to travel the world. There’s no need to go into these destinations now. but this is not the first time I’ve taken leave of my teaching responsibilities, parceled up a backpack, and transported myself very far from my accustomed surroundings, to deliver myself to whatever can be learned from places far from home. Get China remains my most exotic destination, and it () for which my hopes were highest.

Hopes for what? To forget. To learn the not-learning way of learning. To wander like a cloud. My mind was full of such daoist thoughts as I left Canada. I have been studying Chinese philosophy quite avidly for a couple of years, being especially impressed with Daoism above all the writings of Zhuangzi. I thought I understood both why it would be a great accomplishment to really wander like a cloud—shut off the rationalizing intellect—and why it would be difficult for an inveterately rational mind like mind. Could I? I want to try I made plans, but constantly told myself that I’d drop any or all of these plans. The moment anything better presented itself in the course of my travels. Past travel had encouraged me. I’ve been pretty good at seeing and seizing opportunities to experience something unique and unpredictable in the course of travel. That was especially true of y last major excursion, during a year spent in the Middle East. So I set my imaginative hopes on learning, at what cost, what pains, I knew not, to wonder, like a cloud.

Did I succed? Not as yet! But, as I said, I consider my life still very much in program. Perhaps that is the other side of my struggles with disappointment. Every accomplishment in my life so far has always had a sting, a dark side, a gratification, a ‘but’. My () work is at best () as ‘interesting, but……’or ‘how, but……’ instead of being disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm by my contemporaries, I can see this spector of qualification as proof that I have not reached my summit, that there are still many more changes ahead, that I am still, as it were, a child. In the good sense Daoism attaches to that imag—the child as unfinished, still full of potential, unrigid, capable of be coming, anything for want of being definitively this or that. I am definitely not definitively this or that. That much is definite.

And now, whatever it is I am, or am not, is linked to Jane. Whoever she is, what ever she is, or is not.

it's a challenge for me to copy Barry Allen's writing. i gave up peep his journal even he display it somewhere for me.

only ask after he finished: did you mention me today?

we planed we'll write a book together during our travel. Barry really did it. though only six pages. i did it too. they are all staying in my mind!!

Here is  two of Barry's six pages story. i hope (not swear) i'll  copy all these six pages.

and we have whole lifetime finish these story. so i won't hurry!!!

this story's name is Pink Pea and Hairy Turtle. they are me and Barry of course.

i would tell you why Pink Pea and Hairy Turtle later.

Part one: Hairy Turtle

Zhuangzi says that the best traveler has no idea where he is going. That thought was very much in my mind when I lfeft my home in Canada for China in the last days of August, 2006. I suppose I was romanticizing my journey to China. I suppose all of us Westerners who are fortunate enough to travel in China have the right to romanticize about it.  It remains the most exotic destination, the other end of the world. Romanticizing merely means investing our travel with imagination. The benefit is that it keeps us open to perception, keeps our eyes longing, straining to see what is different, to correated danger is that we only see what we imagine, and not what’s really there, that despite the distance and difference. we will only see what our imagination prepares to see. Well! What advantaged doesn’t have disadvantages associated? It’s a question of perception, and not dominate it. I think both my are imagination and perception are pretty acute, so I didn’t worry over knowingly investing my () with a lot of imagination inteereat.

My first destination was Shanghai, where I would spend five months. I was on research leave from my Canadian university, where I teach philosophy and had arranged to teach for a semester at one lf Shanghai’s many universities. My plan was to stay five months in Shanghai, then spend three months traveling around the country. Solo travel was going to be a challenge. So I hoped I could learn as much as possible about how things worked from students and colleagues in Shanghai before departing on my own. Consequently, when some of the students in my seminar volunteered to help me learn some Chinese, I eagerly accepted. (my version is not like this (^_^) )

That’s how I met Jane. Jane is her English name, chosen by herself for its similar sound to her Chinese name Haizhen. Jane was a master student in philosophy, who decided to participate in my seminar, and help me with Chinese each Wednesday for an hour. From the beginning, I thought she was a beauty, very charming and interesting, with very good English. But she seemed so small! Lithe, delicate, small-boned. And how old could she be? When I met her, I was 49. I tried to guess her age, but was defeated by lack of experience with Chinese people. Late, when she told me that she had taught school in her village for six years between university and graduate school, I calculated that she might be just over thirty. It was only later that I learned that taught school while she was completing her first university degree by self-study. As it turned out, when I met her, she was 26.(you should ask me directly. We Chinese would tell you without any disfavor. For Chinese, ‘how old are you’ is the first question who would ask when meet some stranger ) More than twenty years difference between us. For many people, I suppose, that would be that. But I have spent my entire life, personal life and professional life, baffling expectations, indifferent to the inevitable opposition such behavior incurred. why should romance, why should marriage, be an exception.

今天，我很喜欢日本画和书。当然一向很喜欢的，但是常常会忘掉自己喜欢什么，空下来的时候做些莫明其妙的事儿。坐在电脑前，看个片子，下载又删掉，看看网上的广告。常常忘掉了自己很喜欢，很想做的事儿。在真的没有空做那喜欢的事儿的时候，就想着，哎呀，好喜欢呀，有空了一定要做。

1月10日.有太阳。

今天整天呆在屋子，period第一天会肚子很疼的。Now I know，这两天为嘛爱生气。最近爱说的一句话是now you know.　昨儿生气的原因很作。大卫科波菲尔没出生，爹就死了，９岁时，有了个后爹，还找来了姑妈，两个姓什么stone的可把小大卫整惨了，他妈妈也不敢帮。１０岁时死了亲娘，对他很好的保姆嫁了人，这下，啥都没有。坏什么stone的后爹把他送到酒厂当童工，洗瓶子。偶就看到这儿啦。呜呜。Lone lorn little creature.

偶是一个多么容易伤感的人哇，天气又这么不好，故事又这么悲惨。这样的时候，偶很容易生气的。

偶想在练习本上写下日期。一边看小说，一边在练习本上记下生词。偶想应该在本子上写下日期，下回复习的时候才知道在哪本书里看来的。可是记不起日期。就问光头老头，他正在看墨子——这本书很奇怪，光头老头总说，好奇怪呀。可惜偶没有看过墨子，不敢乱说，只知道兼爱非攻，还爱做手艺。

反正事儿就是因为问日期引起的。偶英语还不好，先是问：what day is today.光头老头说，周二。偶想，不是偶要的答案呀，格么，偶换个问法吧：what date is today.光头老头算着，昨儿是８号，今儿是９号啦。明儿是１０呀，someone’s birthday呢。

偶一听，耳朵就竖起来了，啥啥？某人的生日？who?who?

就是那个办报纸的前女友。

哼哼，偶有点点酸了，都十来年了，还记着。你记得偶生日么？

光头老头说：当然记得啦。Jane有两个生日。一个是１１月１６。一个是１１月２０日。

偶记数字不行，自己也常记不太清，总觉得不是２０日，该是２１日。

光头老头说：偶们２１日结婚的，前一天是jane生日。

反正不管偶的生日记得对不对，都十来年了还记着人家生日干嘛。

妈妈的生日是２月１０日，刚才差一个月，每年妈妈总是提及的嘛。很好记的。

偶也不是打心里生气的，大中午的闹着玩儿，刚起床，清醒一下呗。可是闹着闹着偶就当真了。

边接看书，边装着生气。光头老头突然说：little Jane, you should not tease me.偶楞了下下，tease是啥意思哇。赶紧在词典机器里查了。有个例句呢：she tease him about his girlfriend。于是偶在练习本上认真地抄下：Barry Allen said: little Jane, you should not tease me.　和 she tease him about his girlfriend这两个句子。开始真的生气了。哼哼。居然卫护起老女朋友了。

从中午到下午偶就不说话了。平常偶说得多，偶不说话，光头老头只会低头看书不说话。也不觉着太别扭。到三点钟，光头老头要到学校练太极拳去了。（他对锻炼可认真了，前几天中午１２出去逛街到晚上１２点才回来，没有时间练很难过。到回家，跑到小区的操场上去，想练一会儿。没过几分钟就回来，真奇怪，这速度跟偶应付他一下速度差不多啦。就问了句：怎么样。答曰：太冷啦。）问偶要不要出去，只说不。要不要带东西回来，也只说不。平常偶们是一起出去的，偶要么去买菜，要么去宿舍一下，顺便一起买两个玉米饼站在后门口吃了当午饭。光头老头问偶去不去，偶说不去。

穿好了衣服，还站在偶边上，偶也懒得抬头看，只管抄词典机器上的例句。等偶抄了一句，很小心巴巴地把本子和书推过去：“jane，can you write these words for me？”偶就帮他抄了：大中华文库，中英对照。想是又要去书店找找这套丛书里的另一些书。

晚上回来，偶也不理他。问偶好不好，就说好。想起没有厨房里没有油，一声不吭穿了衣服拿了钱，偶就出门去。路上的想法真多呀，觉着自己简直是委屈死掉了。回来看到光头老头没有像往常一样洗澡，站在屋中间，一动不动。见偶回来了说：“I’m scary。”偶说没油了。偶就换了衣服炒蛋饭去了。听他在用透明胶带粘纸箱子，装东西准备邮寄。

饭好了，端出来，偶也不说话。光头老头说：“Jane, how long should it last that you pretend nothing is wrong, and I pretend I don’t know something is wrong.”偶也是：“没啥，啥也没有。”吃了饭，往常也是偶吃得快，把筷子往盘子上一放，就不管了。光头老头会去洗的。这回偶生气了，所以等着他吃完了，偶盘子收来，亲自洗碗去了。光头老头就接着理箱子。偶洗了碗也不去看他，坐到桌子前看收获杂志上虹影的《上海魔术师》。还挺好看的，偶急着看完。看完后，快１０点，老头还在理箱子，偶有些心疼了，肯定累坏了。走到卧室去，双手托着下巴，装可爱的样子看着他。光头老头一边用气泡膜瓷器碗，一边看着偶说：“jane, you should tell me. Are you angry with me or just feel sad.”哼哼，偶还是不想和好，就说“nothing, not sad.”光头老头，直直腰，很累的样子：“no, you are so sad.”都累了一天，还在包东西，偶也不帮他剪剪胶布，递下剪刀，还跟他生气。偶心里难过死了：“you should have a rest。”“I better”光头老头说，收拾好东西，铺好床，驼着背起到书桌前坐下来。偶是最爱做尾巴的，跟在屁股后面。光头老头坐下后，偶就站在后面，给他捶了几下背，看着他后脑勺冒出来的头发，偶决定不生气了。就坐在他腿上，就开始说原因啦。还翻了句子给他看。光头老头看到：“she tease him about his girlfriend”乐死了，词典里真用这个句子呀，太巧了吧。这个句子不好，没解释对，就给偶解释tease的用法。偶没认真听，觉得这个句子很合适。

Wen Haizhen:

I guess you did not lose any mail from me. I will send you some more detailed comments about your thesis in a couple of days. The main thing is fine, but modifications are needed at various points.