What is wise? A commentary on Streib’s “Wisdom and the Other”

By proposing the concept of xenosophia, as a “positive, wisdom-generating process of relating to the Other,” Heinz Streib considers the possibility of combatting xenophobia with a combination of the responsive phenomenology of Bernhard Waldenfels, contemporary wisdom theorizing and research, and social-developmental theories of perspective taking. He is particularly interested in “how the Other can be a source of wisdom, and how responding to the Other relates to the development of wise reasoning and behavior.”

Ideas concerning wisdom, of what it consists, and how it might be practiced have a long, complex, and diverse history in most human societies and cultures. Wisdom has been attributed to the statements, prophesies, actions, and advice of elders, sages, priests, and other notables. It has been transmitted through myriad means of storytelling, oration, lecturing, pontificating, published writings, and increasingly more technical and multimedia formats. Intimately woven into practices of faith, politics, commerce, and quotidian routine, wisdom has been prized as a form of knowledge, insight, justice, instruction, adjudication, prophesy, reassurance, power, survival, and transcendence. Notable examples of written wisdom include the Instructions of Shuruppak, the Maxims of Ptahhotep, the Corpus Hermeticum, the Analects of Confucius, the Torah, the Bible, the Writings of Aristotle, the Meditations of Markus Aurelius, and the poems of Dorothy Parker.

In his 1956 talk to the Meeting of the Aristotelian Society in London, entitled “Essentially Contested Concepts,” Scottish social political theorist and philosopher Gallie (1956) introduced such concepts as those that “When we examine the different uses of these terms and the characteristic arguments in which they figure we soon see that there is no one clearly definable general use of any of them which can be set up as the correct or standard use” (p. 168). If ever there was a concept deserving of being called “contested,” wisdom is such a concept. Gallie goes on to say that these different uses are not easily reconciled because they are employed by different parties who continue to defend their own uses which they back by claims of argument, evidence, and other forms of justification. In practical everyday life, such situations tend to result in “head-on conflict” over attitudes, orientations, and ways of doing and living that no amount of discussion can possibly resolve or dispel. But even if we cannot talk definitively about wisdom, we can talk sensibly about it in ways that recognize different perspectives concerning its meaning and application. Of particular relevance to Streib’s article, Gallie concludes that “At any given stage in the history of the continued use of any essentially contested concept, it will no doubt be necessary to call upon psychological or sociological history or the known historical facts of a person’s or group’s background, to explain their present preferences and adherences. But to admit this is not to deny the existence, or at least the possibility of an individual’s or group’s use, or change of use, of a particular contested concept” (p. 192). And, of even more relevance, “Recognition of a given concept as essentially contested implies recognition of rival uses of it … as not only logically possible and humanly ‘likely’, but as of permanent potential critical value to one’s own use or interpretation of the concept in question whereas to regard any rival use as anathema, perverse, bestial or lunatic means, in many cases, to submit oneself to the chronic human peril of underestimating the value of one’s opponents’ positions” (p. 193). Gallie then adds that “So long as contestant users of any essentially contested concept believe, however deludedly, that their own use of it is the only one that can command honest and informed approval, they are likely to persist in the hope that they will ultimately persuade and convert all their opponents by logical means … [or worse] to damn the heretics and to exterminate the unwanted” (pp. 193–194).

I think Gallie would welcome, as do I, Streib’s interpretation of Waldenfel’s “other responsiveness” as a potentially valuable interactive practice, which extends beyond intellectual perspective taking and mutual understanding, to embrace, value, and respect the lived experiences and convictions of others very different from ourselves. With respect to Streib’s proposal that Waldenfel’s phenomenology and his own conception of xenosophia, together with the humility and perspective taking he describes, actually might constitute wisdom, I am less certain that Gaillie would agree. I do not. My own work on life positioning, position exchange, and perspective taking, some of which Streib references, is aimed at explicating the social and psychological development of human agency (individually and collectively) and other aspects of personhood, including self and other understanding (e.g. Martin, 2006, 2012, 2013; Martin & Gillespie, 2010).

Like “wisdom,” the human “agency,” to which I have devoted much study, is a contested concept. However, it can be defined generally as our capability of choosing and acting purposefully in ways not entirely determined by biology or culture, but nonetheless enabled and constrained by our sociocultural, interactive, and psychological positioning and perspectives. “Wisdom” seems to me to defy any such general, let alone more specific, framings. For example, consider Sternberg’s (1998) frequently quoted definition of wisdom in his “balance theory of wisdom” as “the application of tacit knowledge as mediated by values toward the achievement of a common good through a balance among multiple (a) intrapersonal, (b) interpersonal, and (c) extrapersonal interests in order to achieve a balance among (a) adaption to existing environments, (b) shaping of existing environments, and (c) selection of new environments” (p. 347). This way of understanding wisdom seems to me to be so encyclopedic as to allow almost anything to count as wisdom in some way. Even as it appears to presuppose the possibility of an almost god-like understanding, it skirts an extensive array of questions concerning why and how a balancing of all these factors qualifies as wise. Knowing or understanding does not necessarily equate with being wise or acting wisely, especially if wisdom is constituted in whole or in part by Streib’s xenosophia. It is possible to use one’s understanding and knowledge with intentional malice, but any such use cannot possibly be wise or xenosophic. In contrast, “agency” can be defined more neutrally than “wisdom.” Although we often assume that the exercise of agency can be a good thing, we also understand that this is not necessarily the case. Human history is a constant reminder that the willfulness and purposes of some can be very bad, even tragic, for others. “Wisdom” on the other hand, is quite unquestionably considered my most of us to be a good and desired quality that does not square with infamy, calamity, and genocidal consequences.

When Streib proposes “interpreting wisdom as xenosophia and xenocentric responsiveness,” he very clearly is saying that “Wisdom is the positive reaction that diverges from, and leaves behind, negative alternatives and less wise or unwise precursors, and, of course, toxic othering.” By definition and description, “xenosophia” is highly desirable, perhaps even essential, for the kind of perspective taking and humility that Streib asserts must attend Wardenfel’s dynamic of pathos and response to the alien other. But, as noble as it is, it seems to me important to think very carefully about what xenosophia requires and whether or not it constitutes wisdom.

Xenosophia, as a pathos and openness to the alien other, sets a highly laudable bar for wisdom, yet simultaneously is insufficient by itself to constitute wisdom. Xenosophic wisdom must contribute to human flourishing, wellbeing, and betterment. But practices and interpretations of wisdom shift with time and context. What is considered wise can and often does require continuous adjustment and revision. As Charles Taylor said, “Really to be able to predict the future would be to have explicated so clearly the human condition that one would already have pre-empted all cultural innovation and transformation. This is hardly in the bounds of the possible” (Taylor, 1985, p. 57). Wisdom often cannot be determined at the time of its exercise. To consider an act, decision, judgment, or person to be wise necessarily assumes that the consequences of the acts, decisions, or judgments of that person will prove beneficial, or at least helpful, to those concerned for some period of time that extends beyond the present. But this is exactly what Taylor and other social political theorists claim is quite often impossible to predict. As social contexts, positionings, and perspectives change across places and times, what once was thought (or those who once were thought) to be wise, will also change. Moreover, with respect to the possibility of “wise persons,” human history and quotidian interpersonal experience offer countless examples of individuals who do what seem to be very wise things at one moment, only to be perceived as doing things that seem clearly unwise soon thereafter or at other times.

Consider one brief example—this one drawn from American history, concerning the much-assumed wisdom exercised by the fathers of confederation in the 1700s. Who might better illustrate the possibility of wise acts and individuals than George Washington or Tomas Jefferson? And yet, the conduct of neither of these often-esteemed gentlemen would meet Streib’s criterion of xenosophia as an essential requirement for wisdom. Well known as classical republican thinkers and actors, Washington and Jefferson were members of a small group of allied Virginian aristocratic families for whom republicanism and slavery were not in conflict. In fact, they were understood to complement each other in a plantation society in which the poor white population were mostly indentured servants, with a lowly social, political, and economic status that was eclipsed only by the black laboring class, who were widely thought to be enslaved for their own good and that of society.

Washington, Jefferson, and their fellow plantation owners easily can be seen, during their lives and in retrospect, as active agents, holding positions, perspectives, and purposes that opened possibilities of enrichment, entitlement, and the exercise of political power for a few. But they clearly would not be considered by many of us today as wise in any sense that might accord with xenosophia. And yet, some might venture to imagine them as very wise in pursuit of their own interests, and perhaps even in the interest of a democratic society that severely restricted personhood and political participation to similarly inclined, historically and socioculturally privileged persons—much as was the case in the classic Greek city state of Athens, often considered to be the birthplace of democracy.

Surely Streib is right to suggest other responsiveness, perspective taking, humility, and xenosophia as orientations, attitudes, and capabilities that might help to sustain wisdom under certain conditions. However, none or any combination of these necessarily would sustain widespread human flourishing within our sociocultural and psychological world, across its many variations dependent upon time and place. I know of no way to secure a collective wisdom that could ensure living together and sharing “goods” (both material and theoretical) equitably. Even our best efforts to do so may fail. The individual and collective agency of persons and groups is both benefit and affliction. Without the god-like knowledge that seems necessary to instantiate and animate the template for wisdom as outlined in omnibus definitions like that of Sternberg (1998), I believe that all we can do is accept and hope that wisdom will persist as a contested and ill-defined ideal and vehicle for channeling our nobler responses and attitudes toward each other in our never-ending struggles to approportionate resources more judiciously, sensitively, and equitably. Even then, who can say whether what we choose to do will qualify as wise? Perhaps the best we might do is to embrace the ideal of humility in the face of our inability to foresee and realize the future consequences of our actions. Even very modest attempts to act according to a conception of wisdom stated in relation to “human flourishing” (another value-laden and contested concept) will likely be difficult to achieve—especially at a time when, in many parts of the world, our social values and moral virtues seem to be shifting in favor of more selfishly individualistic ends such as “personal branding.” In many quarters, what once was regarded as sinful self-promotion is now touted as virtue, in much the same manner as compromise, once considered wise, now seems, too often and to too many, to signal only weakness.

It is such self-absorption and unthinking disregard (and worse) for others that Steib hopes to overcome through his interpretation of Wardenfels’“other responsiveness” as xenosophia—a deeply open embrace of the humanity and being of alien others. Streib wants us to recognize, love, and care for the personhood and humanity of each other, as a prerequisite for treating each other and acting wisely. I think any such embrace also should include what Brinkmann (2013) has described as “our unconditional responsibility for the concrete other” (p. 178). Only then might we be capable of exercising the necessary, everyday small steps toward a wisdom that still will be contested, but which we can struggle together to constantly adjust to our evolving circumstances and conditions. But, only if we can extend our love for ourselves and our causes to a love (or at least a respectful and open consideration) for others and theirs.