In 1906 William James gave a lecture entitled "What Pragmatism Means."
His talk, delivered in the plain language that still suits his subject,
would be published the following year in his book Pragmatism: A New Name
for Some Old Ways of Thinking. There James returned to an idea he had
first developed years earlier, a stone-simple idea that, then as now,
seemed peculiarly susceptible to abuse.
In James's conception, which has suffered through and survived a century
of complication, big-p philosophical Pragmatism is nothing more or less
than a method for testing ideas by challenging them to make a difference
in our experience of the world. Any concerted intellectual project--be it
philosophy or law, architecture or criticism--should not bypass what James
called "the rich thicket of reality" by incanting magic "solving
names"; he cited "God," "Matter," "Reason,"
"the Absolute," and "Energy," but we might recognize
"authorship," "sign," "transgression," "space,"
and "the virtual" as well. To James, ideas, however lofty, prove
themselves to be true only when they are carried all the way back down to
Earth, examined in the clear light of human doubt, and are shown to perform.
Offsite:
Discover the history of Pragmatism and the works of key thinkers at www.pragmatism.org,
then be sure to go to go to www.emory.edu/EDUCATION/mfp/james.html,
which includes an infinite number of essays and speeches by William James,
as well as photographs and biographies of this important early 20th
century philosopher.
Even as James rolled out his pragmatism at the turn of the last century,
there was an unfortunate tendency to collapse it with practicality. In 1909
he lamented the fact that the practical was "almost unanimously held
to mean opposed to the theoretical or genuinely cognitive," a canard
that persists to this day. True, the words share a distant root--the Greek
prattein, to experience, to act--but they take off in different directions
from it. Pragmatic emerges via pragma (deed); practical
comes to us allied with practice, the state of doing repeatedly.
Everyone, except perhaps our most gifted solipsists, does something; practical
can be an epithet only in a world turned totally upside down, where inaction
is valued over results, where stasis triumphs over change. Indeed, for the
spiritually minded--and James was never one to object to a useful metaphysics--pragmatism
might be thought of as a method for exalting the practical, for practicality
serves as the generous but short-tempered guardian angel in this common-sense
faith.
Another easy out, then as now, has been to tar pragmatism with the handy
brush of its baser, Main Street meaning: expedience in the service of commerce.
James did not shy away from commerce and its metaphors. For him, only the
"cash value" of an idea mattered in the end and truth lived "on
credit," passing like a banknote only as long as it went unchallenged.
But pragmatism is more than making do in the marketplace.
So maybe we're using the wrong name for this old way of thinking. The logician
Charles Peirce, whom James credited with codifying the pragmatic method,
preferred pragmaticism, in part because he hoped that ugly duckling
would discourage overuse. As James returned to pragmatism at the end of
his career (he died in 1910), he too was concerned that popularity would
breed confusion. "On all hands," he wrote, "we find
the 'pragmatic movement' spoken of, sometimes with respect, sometimes with
contumely, seldom with clear understanding."
The same could be said of the term in architecture circles today. For years,
it's true, there has been some low-grade ferment, idle talk on bar stools,
whispers in the back of the lecture hall: Is there something there? Something
more useful than last year's collection of tender-minded star-system whimsies?
Something that can help me make real things? This ambient buzz was
given its first public airing last November in a symposium organized
by Joan Ockman and Terry Riley at the Museum of Modern Art. There, to the
delight of those of us who had participated in the sub-rosa chatter that
preceded this debut, possible commerce between architecture and pragmatism
was at last explored. Could it in fact, to hijack a phrase from Vincent
Scully, "offer the most promising way out of academicism for the younger
men"? It was an added bonus that each day of the proceedings ended
with a debate between a philosophical architect and a pragmatist philosopher--Peter
Eisenman vs. Richard Rorty; Rem Koolhaas vs. Cornel West--and that in both
cases, by general assent of those in the large audience, the architect got
trumped. A defining moment came when Eisenman, at length, endeavored
to explain why big-p Philosophy (read: big-t Theory) should occupy a special
place among the many, many earthly things that might kick start the mysterious
act of architectural invention. Rorty, walking the pragmatist walk, returned
several times to this refrain: "That's fine, Peter. You do what
you need to do to do your work."
Here the story moves to a strange aside in an article defending paper architecture
that Herbert Muschamp wrote on March 11 in the New York Times. Responding
to a short piece by Jayne Merkel in the February Oculus--and, one
assumes, to the hopeful, harmless hum of interest in pragmatism--Muschamp
served up a quickie dismissal of the "pragmatic movement" (now,
as in James's day, a phantom), the MoMA conference (to which he stated he
did not go), and Merkel's innocent editorial on "The New Practicality"
(that old confusion, again). He described pragmatism as "architecture's
latest intellectual hoax," and, aiming to wound, he defined a
pragmatist in architecture as "anyone with a license who has successfully
pursued a career putting up buildings."
To explain why Muschamp belittled a license, a successful career, and buildings--versus
big-a Architecture--would require a fuller examination of his aesthetics.
What is of interest here, however, is that in the course of setting up pragmatism
as a straw man against which he could oppose a case for "the reemergence
in recent years of an architecture of ideas," Muschamp published what
may be the first application to architecture of the term "New
Pragmatism." (It has been used in legal scholarship and literature
for decades.) His coinage is quaint: confronted with novelty, he tried to
make sense of it by creating another of the solving "isms" that
often serve as pigeonholes for the unknown. This is itself a very Jamesian
operation; he believed that we construct reality pragmatically, testing
new ideas as they come at us and fitting them in with the old where
they "work" best--usually where they do the least damage to our
preconceptions. Pragmatism is not hostile to "ideas," it just
threatens those that exist for their own sake.
And the "New Pragmatism"? If only it were so! I can confidently
say that if there were such a thing, the able trend-spotting machine of
New York architecture culture would have taken it up, and if a critical
mass of suitable practitioners could be found--I can think of two--a show
would have been put together, a manifesto written, and a catalog published
(Two Architects?), if only to ease the popular frustration with our
reigning luftmenschen and to sate the hunger--in many students now
it is a craving--for a new class of ideas in architecture. Could pragmatism
be that relief? It depends what you make of it. As a shortcut to a new style,
it offers little; it will be a sad day when we see "pragmatism"
used to put a glamorous gloss on pipe rails or exposed steel. But as a method
to reinforce skepticism, to erase credulity, to verify through action new
ideas that work, it may be just what architecture needs.