Arguing is a funny game. The winner gets nothing, the loser can improve his ideas if he will. As the combatants face each other, each adopts the posture that most fits his style. The first man swings the finely honed sword of Romantic Idealism and the second blocks with the jaded shield of Enlightenment Rationalism. And then the rationalist slips a touch by mentioning Descartes. Now he’s left himself open to a counter discussion of Bishop Berkeley, and if he doesn’t know his Baxter he may not be able to keep his balance. In truth, the rationalist was hoping for an early knockout and now may be fighting out of his depth. His legs are jelly. Does he have reserve forces to call upon? He distracts his opponent by spinning to Spinoza. Then he lands his own combination of Bacon and Locke to his opponent's midsection.
To his credit, the idealist is still standing as the bell rings. He has felt his opponents best punches, but how should he respond? Should he take up his traditional Platonic posture, knowing full well the position is drawn, or dare he advance his center to Blake and Coleridge, perhaps tempting his opponent to fight on unfamiliar ground? Getting one’s opponent out of his prepared books is a great strategy.
In truth, there are no judges. Each of the fighters is keeping score for himself. This Dojo does not exist, but here is the centerpiece of their argument: The Rationalist knows that knowledge is acquisitive and that the knowledge of one generation is built upon the knowledge of the previous generations. Therefore, the best ideas are the newest ones. Only the current philosopher could have the perspective that he enjoys. Modernity was not possible for the philosophers of the past, and that is why the ideas of the past do not fully suit the present.
On the other hand, the idealist knows that all ideas are eternal, and to him, it seems that the progress of the generations, in which the rationalist is so secure, is actually generational decay. The wisdom of each successive generation only gets farther from its original source. Knowledge is not acquisitive, and wisdom is instantaneous in the mind of the wise. In the moment of wisdom, the wise person is taking part in ancient knowledge. He is interacting with eternity. He is timeless.
Both of these historical conceptions are lies. History is not a line, but a circle. Revolution doesn’t mean something new is about to happen, it means something old is coming back around again. Its incumbent upon the combatants to choose a point of origin somewhere on the circle which would otherwise be arbitrary. Each must frame his narrative from his selected point of origin, and it is the true challenge of the philosopher to make his story make sense to himself—to tell himself a story he can believe. A philosopher never quite believes the story he is telling himself.
