In 1992, multiple scholars (including reputable names like W. V. O. Quine) signed a letter to oppose Cambridge University's granting Jacques Derrida an honorary degree. The basis of their opposition was a criticism that is commonly thrown towards Derrida and a vast proportion of other philosophers in the Continental tradition: obscurantism. The protestors accused Derrida of "tricks and gimmicks similar to those of the Dadaists", and "little more than semi-intelligible attacks upon the values of reason, truth, and scholarship". It's interesting to note that in their letter, there isn't a single quoted passage from any of Derrida's texts. Is this criticism of Derrida and other notoriously complex philosophers justified? That is to say – is it really so criminal for a philosophical work to be difficult to interpret, lacking rigorous clarity?
Perhaps we can divide philosophical methodology into two broad styles: the literary and the analytic. To defend one or the other, it should be determined which one has techniques that are more likely to fulfil the purpose of philosophy. This is the first challenge. The second challenge is contained within the first, and that is: what actually is the purpose of philosophy? Some people will laugh at this question; it is so often asked of philosophy that it potentially reveals the inherent pointlessness of the subject. But this is, in fact, wrong: the only reason it is so often asked with regards to philosophy is because philosophy is an inherently questioning subject; the question is just as confusing and difficult when applied to any other academic subject. What is the point of biology? What is the point of mathematics? What is the point of psychology? None of these subjects, it would seem, have a pre-determined goal that they are heading towards.
I would like to use this conclusion – that academic disciplines take a path that is more meandering, rather than headed towards a certain ultimate conclusion – to suggest that all subjects may be closer to the arts and humanities than may initially be supposed. People don't often ask what the point of a novel, painting, or piece of music is, because it's generally accepted that works of art have individual purposes and interpretations for each of their readers. It may very well be the case for the sciences and philosophy. But we should return to the question – how can this defend the literary style of philosophy that is so often accused of obscurantism? We can compare fictional literature with non-fictional philosophy to explore this question.
Hegel said that "philosophy is in the element of universality": it is generally seen as part of the purpose of philosophy (whatever that may be) that it should address matters concerning universal characteristics of the world. A philosophical work concerning human understanding, for example, shouldn't address the human understanding of person X but instead of people in general. This is a contrast with fictional literature, which focuses on particulars: it would be very difficult to find a novel that is about everyone, as opposed to a person in particular. Even literary works with hundreds of characters and hundreds of settings never reach out into the realm of universality.
Despite this particularity, literature still remains valuable. How is this? Well, we should remember James Joyce's idea when referring to Ulysses: "In the particular is contained the universal". This can be interpreted as having a platonist meaning, referring to each particular being containing universally applicable characteristics, or it can be interpreted as an idea pertaining specifically to literature: in one, particular, work of literature, a universality is present in the infinite number of interpretations it can bring about. Every reader of Ulysses has read the same words (if we ignore the fact that there are multiple different editions, corrections, and so on), but it is very plausible to suggest that each of these readers has interpreted and responded to the text very differently. Would the same be the case if the novel had been laid out in as much analytical rigour as the protestors against Derrida valued?
I would like to suggest that the obscure, often metaphorical, and "wordy" nature of novels like Ulysses brings benefits that can be just as valuable in works of philosophy. While the rigorous and meticulously clarified works of Frege, Carnap, or whoever else are certainly valuable at answering particular and specific questions, the more interpretable and literary works of philosophers like Heidegger and Derrida provide us with not only potential answers to particular questions, but also with a wealth of additional questions.
Questions can be just as valuable as answers – if not more – because they contain within them assumptions concerning our understanding of the world and, paradoxically, they help us to clarify the world in some sense: while an answer is conclusive and terminating (provided it is correct), a question will always provide us with more, thus revealing not only the infinite capability of questions pertaining to the world, but also the limitations and workings of how questions can function. Raising a particular question may end up showing us that a question is illogical to ask, it may cause us to question the assumptions that led to us asking it, or it may indeed lead to an unexpected answer which, in turn, causes us to question its validity.
As such, it should be understood that the so-called "obscurantism" of some philosophical works is not something to be derided. Rather, it should be valued for its potential for raising interpretations and questions about the world, just as complex works of art and literature does. The purpose of these kind of philosophical works is incomparable with the purpose of more analytic works, which seek to rigorously provide one answer to one question. Of equal value are the works that provide us with many questions, without necessarily delivering decisive answers.
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