I was very ambitious back in the summer of 1974, when I transferred colleges to begin my junior year as a philosophy major. I was in the bookstore of Trinity University (San Antonio, TX), and I was drooling at the philosophy texts. I had no clear vision of what I wanted, other than that I liked the ponderous jargon—rationalism, empiricism, idealism, pragmatism, existentialism, phenomenology, ontology, epistemology, deontology, teleology, noetic—and I was already beginning to collect all the philosopher trading cards—Heraclitus, Plato, Socrates, Duns Scotus, Augustine, Aquinas, Descartes, Spinoza, Locke, Hume, Kant, Nietzsche, Bentham, James, Ayer, Wittgenstein—though I had not yet found the elusive Husserl or Bergson. Dewey was new to me, so I was attracted to his Experience and Nature as a new acquisition. Sad to say, however, that in the next six months, I went very astray (was it the misty imprecision of the metaphysics of Heidegger?), felt trapped in a welter of words, then dropped out, and enlisted in the USN to make contact again with solid matter (though my dog tags averred I was a Buddhist). Somehow, Dewey’s book, cracked only once, survived the moves and multiple packings and unpackings over the next 45 years.
So now I’ve read it. Dewey wins no awards for clarity. The usual signposts you expect in a work like this is to have some précis statement, then each step of the way given a topic statement, formulation, examples, and summation before moving onto the next step/topic. Dewey demanded a good deal more attention to his argument than that, and I was often adrift. Even the two primary terms were not given adequate definition, and it was many pages into the text that I finally settled on satisfactory conjectures about what Dewey meant by Nature and Experience. And, for all the exegesis, there were no ready hints precisely how his brand of critical philosophy (Instrumentalism, a variant on James’ Pragmatism) was going to be put into peoples’ hands and heads so as to help reshape society. (I did find it odd that Dewey, noted as an educationalist who advocated children learn in a hands-on, problem-solving fashion, did not speak at all about education or pedagogy in this book.)
What Dewey does well is present a picture of the on-going evolution of philosophy as it mirrors its socio-historic context. Classic Greek idealism, for example, is rooted in a culture where the artisan is a menial and the thinker a refined aristocrat whose materials are ideal forms with intrinsic ends (telos). The break from scholasticism in the Renaissance was in part an acknowledgment that the artisan’s status had become more elevated, that innovations and breaks from custom in particular crafts signaled a different epistemology, which gradually evolved into empiricism and the scientific method. Even the body-mind schism is sorted, explained as a confusion of language, which anticipated Wittgenstein and the logical-positivists.
Ultimately, philosophy and the quest for knowledge continues to evolve, a variant on the artist’s and the scientist’s approach to his/her work. Test something, modify as necessary, test again, modify as necessary. Repeat, ad infinitum. People are meant to engage with nature (ie, the environment—natural and human-made), and their experience is their guide to future engagements with nature, as continual feed-back loops provide direction to make each engagement more necessarily consummative/pleasurable/satisfying. There is no end to the process, and Dewey’s conception of philosophy is that it operate as a monitor and critic to the always-ongoing development of knowledge and values. There are no absolutes; all is heuristic.
I’ve paraphrased very loosely a complex book, which ideas are solid (and practical). Unfortunately, I think that the readers for this book number in the dozens, and they will all surely avow that while its content is sound, its presentation has the potential to bewilder and stultify.