#autodidacticism

celebrate the little wins, everyday.

Luis Barragán (1902-1988) was born in Guadalajara, Mexico. His professional training was in engineering, resulting in a degree at the age of twenty-three. His architectural skills were self-taught. In the 1920s, he traveled extensively in France and Spain and, in 1931, lived in Paris for a time, attending Le Corbusier’s lectures. His time in Europe, and subsequently in Morroco, stimulated an interest in the native architecture of North Africa and the Mediterranean, which he related to construction in his own country.

Autodidacticism

Ironically enough, I wanted to say earlier that I’m more concerned with the lack of constraints in para-academia than the abundance of constraints in academia, some of which are fundamentally necessary—while some unfortunately myopic. Let me start by saying this: even in the presence of non-myopic and required vetting procedures, there is still a good chance that unintelligible or vastly intellectually sub-standard works creep through the great filters of academia. As an example, when Harvard University Press publishes a book on computation and culture that is riddled with patently false claims about concepts developed in computer science, filled with bizarre overextended analogies, fallacies of reasoning which would be covered in a Philosophy 101 course, and questionable references—the sort of book that might be derided as an exercise in para-academic vacuity—then we should realize that such constraints are merely necessary. They are not by any means sufficient to guarantee rigorous and consequential works. There are of course differences among academic publishers as well, some are more vigilant about the content. But a good portion of them publish works as long as they conform to the convention of academic writing and format. This is not all, in the current form of academia, tutors are forced to make many compromises out of diplomacy or bureaucracy. But one can only make so many practical compromises before compromising the theoretical core of its convictions. Sellars has this wonderful essay on Plato where he talks about the difference between conventions (for example, the building code instituted by the builder’s guild) and objective principles (practices absolutely necessary to make a house that can withstand the passage of time and serve a purpose, namely, sheltering people). The kind of constrains we should strive for and uphold are of the latter kind. Academic conventions can be useful for streamlining the practice of doing philosophy, but as conventions they can also be corruptible just like the codes of a builder’s guild that by virtue of having monopoly over some material ingredients dictates that all houses must be built using this or that material only. I admit that in the past I have been facile. I used to see all sorts of academic constraints as essentially restricting. It is only when you see the flaws and harsh realities of both para-academia and academia that you grow out of your intellectual slumber. You no longer take pride in having as many followers as possible. You in fact become suspicious of such a phenomenon. There are many friends and readers who now feel betrayed by my more recent work. But a philosopher is a traitor par excellence. A philosopher should not swear allegiance to this or that thinker, this or that trend: the only alliance is with thinking, and thought always betrays the established order of things. To resolutely answer your question: I think if we take the idea of para-academia seriously as a true alternative, an oasis for uncompromising thought rather than a safe haven for anti-academic hubris and individualistic amusements, then we need to have a much lengthier conversation about the adoption of objective constraints, addressing the issues of financial infrastructure, organization, and the ethics of auto-didacticism.

A man is educated in proportion to his ability to understand and affect his immediate environment.