BOOKS
63
In
the light of this accomplishment it is puzzling to read that "phil–
osophy does not pretend to discover new truths about the nature of the
world and man." (Sidney Hook,
fohn Dewey,
p. 40) For clearly, Dewey's
theory of inquiry is a part of his philosophy, and I should think that
Dewey, if not Hook, would maintain that it establishes truths about the
nature of the world and man.
It
tells us how men solve their problems.
The philosopher's supposed inability to discover truth reappears,
slightly blurred, in Hook's discussion of value. On the one hand he believes
that the primary task of philosophy is evaluation. On the other, he sharply
separates value-statements and statements of fact. Surely it is obvious that
statements of ethics differ from those of the other natural sciences; diffi–
culties arise only as to
Jww
they are said to differ.
If
I say "Socialism is
desirable," or "You ought to fight against fascism," I am making a value–
statement, but if I say "all bodies attract each other," I am not. Putting it
in traditional jargon, in one case I speak about what
ought-to-be,
in the
other about what
is.
Yet both these statements, though differing in this
respect, have something crucial in common. Both of them can be confirmed
or refuted, that is, subjected to inquiry. Such statements are often called
'confirmable.' There are, then, at least two kinds of confirmable statements,
those of ethics, and those of the other empirical sciences. But 'confirm–
able' is frequently taken as synonymous with 'factual,' and so confusion
occurs. For obviously when Hook divides value-statements and factual
statements as mutually exclusive, people infer that value-statements are not
confirmable. It follows that you cannot test or refute them. Surely this is
not what Dewey intends; he does not reduce philosophy to a collection of
tautologies, meaningless war-cries, and sage grunts.
On the contrary, he explicitly opposes this view, since he holds that
philosophy is critique. To be a critic the philosopher must make value–
judgments; he must examine the elements of modern culture and call them
good or bad. But to do this intelligently he is forced to study the workings
of capitalism, to engage in experimental social science. Dewey has never
made such a study and so has never been able to present a concrete politi–
cal program. This lack of leading principles may very well explain his
spotty performance in practical politics. His successive support of Wilson,
the World War, the League of Nations, and Al Smith, are evidence of the
undirected character of his political thought.
Professors Randall and Hook have respectively attacked and justified
Dewey's political negligence. Randall charges Dewey with a failure to
deal with the central problem of modern culture. He says:
"Instead of many fine generalities about 'the method of coopera–
tive intelligence,' Dewey might well direct attention to this crucial
problem of extending our political skill. For political skill can itself
be taken as a technological problem to which inquiry can hope to
bring an answer. It is obviously dependent on our acquiring the
knowledge how to get men to apply the techniques already available
for dealing with our social problems, how to enlist the cooperative
