Richard Rorty's position within American philosophy is paradoxical. Once he bore all the hopes of analytic philosophy, but ever since his Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature of 1979, in which he criticized this school of thought, he has been practically ignored by most analytic philosophers. His shift to pragmatism has also brought him little recognition. Analytic philosophers have reproached him for his excessive criticism, the pragmatists for his lacking orthodoxy. On the other hand, the general intellectual audience has taken a lot of notice of Rorty's emphasis on contingency and his ideas about liberalism—as well as, recently, his plea for a renewal of social-democratic thought.

Rorty links the analytic and continental philosophical traditions as few other philosophers do (and I think that such a link will also prove increasingly decisive in this country). Nevertheless, in Europe too Rorty's reputation is predominantly negative. Rorty the speaker attracts an audience, but the reaction of the philosophers' guild ranges from reserved to aggressive.

I consider this scepticism towards Rorty to be partially well-founded; philosophically, however, one should not only point out dangers and put up warning signs, as intellectuals are prone to do, but rather sound out argumentatively precisely wherein the tenable and untenable lies; and one should also ask whether some parts of the untenable could be corrected so as to become tenable, whereas others remain definitely untenable. This is what I would like to attempt in the following.

I shall limit myself to the analysis of a single thesis—albeit a central and particularly objectionable thesis of Rorty's, one found time and time again ever since the Mirror of Nature. Rorty says that, strictly speaking, it is not possible for one philosophical position to argue against another. All that one can do is to play one's own vocabulary off against the other's and make one's own position appear attractive. Sometimes Rorty even links this renunciation of interconceptional argumentation with the call to abandon the idea of truth.

I hope to be able to show that this provocative thesis, which touches upon the very nerve of philosophy, is not sound. At the same time, however, my criticism has a constructive component. I believe that some of Rorty's points can be better defended than he himself has done.

I shall refer primarily to the two books Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, from 1979, and Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, from 1989. Therefore, I would like to outline briefly their theses beforehand.

In Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature Rorty criticizes what he sees as having been the guiding epistemological model since the 17th century, according to which the mind is a mirror of the world whose purpose is to reproduce reality as accurately as possible, making it necessary—by means, say, of a critique of reason or logical analysis of language —to polish this cognitive mirror and thus free it of blind spots. Rorty considers the modern representational model of cognition to be fundamentally flawed, and pleads for an understanding of epistemological—or, as he also puts it, 'systematic'—philosophy based on this model as being just one type amongst several, as well as advocating a stronger shift towards another type, for which he coins the collective name "edifying philosophy," adducing Dewey, Heidegger, and Wittgenstein as prime examples. The aim of edifying philosophy is the invention of new, interesting, and fruitful self-descriptions as well as keeping going (rather than systematically winding up) philosophical conversation.

In Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, Rorty makes the connection between edifying philosophy and awareness of contingency more precise, emphasizes the distinction between private and public, and outlines a utopian combination of private irony and liberal hope. He attempts to show that the concept of edifying philosophy is the one best suited to assist liberal democracy—and although he is unable to substantiate this claim, he also considers it in no need of philosophical substantiation.

To begin with, I want to cite some formulations of Rorty's anti-argumentative thesis. The actual reasoning will follow afterwards.

In Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature Rorty says that the edifying philosopher doesn't provide arguments, but merely suggests a new set of terms. This alone, at any rate, is what he would prefer to do and does best. Rorty, however, is aware of the precariousness and apparent inadmissability of such a procedure. For, first of all, it runs counter to the basic notion of philosophy, according to which philosophy is an argumentative business. Secondly, it violates a philosophical meta-rule which states that a deviation from the established standards is permitted only when one can give reasons as to why the new paradigm will be better able to fulfill the philosophical task than the established paradigm.

However, it is exactly this which edifying philosophy makes no claim to do. It intends not to better solve the classical problems of philosophy, but rather suggests a transition to different issues and problems, a change from a systematic to an edifying orientation. This is why, according to Rorty, there is no possibility of argument between epistemological and edifying philosophy.

In the altogether more mature book Contingency, Irony and Solidarity, Rorty says that one should not demand arguments against preceding types of philosophy from philosophers of his kind. The change from one type to another never takes place de facto on the basis of criteria or through conscious choice. Rather, a shift simply occurs. For example, Europe "did not decide to accept the idiom of Romantic poetry, or of socialist politics, or of Galilean mechanics. That sort of shift was no more an act of will than it was a result of argument. Rather, Europe gradually lost the habit of using certain words and gradually acquired the habit of using others." All rhetoric commending things new misinterprets itself by presenting itself argumentatively; it ought to be probabilistic and pragmatic instead. For example, one should say: "try to ignore the apparently futile traditional questions by substituting the following new and possibly interesting questions," and then see how we get on. That is why Rorty—`true to his own principles'—offers no arguments against the vocabulary he wants to replace: "Instead, I am going to try to make the vocabulary I favor look attractive by showing how it may be used to describe a variety of topics."

How does Rorty justify his abstinence from argument and the alleged impossibility of interconceptional argument in general?

So as to avoid one misunderstanding from the start: Rorty does not dismiss argument point-blank. First of all, argument within a philosophical conception remains possible and necessary—for example, in order to examine its consistency. Secondly, Rorty evidently considers meta-argumentation practicable with regard to the impossibility of interconceptional argument. Indeed, he himself presents just such an argument. It is just that the result of this is that interconceptional arguments as such are to be excluded. Why, and in which cases?

Rorty distinguishes two kinds of relationship between conceptions. Conceptions either have a common basis, representing different versions (paradigms) of one and the same type; or they have no such common basis, belong to different types. In the first case—with reference to the common basis—interconceptional argument is possible, in the latter—where such a basis is lacking —it is not.

Within the traditional type of epistemological philosophy, for example, arguments between normal and revolutionary positions are possible. Rorty, drawing support from Kuhn, understands normal philosophy to be the dominant conception at a particular time, which is then confronted by a revolutionary paradigm —which, if successful, subsequently becomes the normal philosophy. Since the normal paradigm and the revolutionary paradigm, with all their other dissimilarities, share the basic premiss that the concern is to render the real as adequately as possible, an argumentative dispute between them is possible with reference to this premiss: the new paradigm propounds reasons as to why the common aim is better attained by its means. In this sense it is possible, for example, for Hegel to argue against Kant, or analytic philosophy against philosophy of consciousness.

In the conflict between epistemological and edifying philosophy, however, it is not paradigms of the same type, but of differing types that confront one another. Edifying philosophy, as opposed to epistemological philosophy, is not only not normal, but even more than revolutionary: it doesn't create a new paradigm within the same basic framework, but rather attempts to leave the old field of play and to engender a new type of philosophy. The elementary premiss of epistemological philosophy—that representing what's real is at stake—is no longer found here. Edifying philosophers, Rorty says, do "something different" than "offering accurate representations of how things are." They do not claim that their terms "are the new-found accurate representations of essences." They don't seek "to find objective truth." As a result of this difference in type, argument between such positions is no longer possible.

So much for Rorty's reasoning on the impossibility of argument between typologically different conceptions. I consider these expositions to be sound in principle (later I shall come to speak of certain limitations). Moreover, the argumentative logic of this thesis is not altogether new: "contra principia negantem non est disputandum" was already a proven maxim of the philosophical tradition.

To conclude this introductory section by accentuating the positive component once again: Rorty by no means brushes aside argumentative obligations as being burdensome, as is sometimes suggested. He hasn't left his analytic schooling behind him in favour of a cynical relativism. Rather he intends to make clear, with analytic precision, the very standards of possible and impossible argument and to urge that they be taken account of. And he demands strict performative consistency—from himself just as from others. He points out time and time again that philosophers of his school would be performatively contradicting themselves if they were to claim suddenly that their view is the true view, the one corresponding to the essence of things and reality. He criticizes, as examples, Nietzsche and Derrida for having fallen prey to this temptation.

Before I come back to Rorty's restriction of the possibility of argument I want to discuss the consequences of Rorty's abstinence from argument for edifying philosophy, the type of philosophy he recommends.

Rorty's recommendation for the transition to this type falls under the aspect of fruitfulness. Edifying philosophy, he says, will lead to "new, better, more interesting, more fruitful ways of speaking." However, abstinence from argument and fruitfulness fit together badly. More precisely: it is exactly the exclusion of argument which seems to me to render the remaining practice of edifying philosophy regrettably unfruitful. According to Rorty, it should be a matter of practising "conversation" in place of argument. But the way Rorty defines conversation reveals a dilemma. He says three things: that edifying philosophers are "conversational partners" for other edifying philosophers; that not the discovery of objective truth, but the continuation of conversation constitutes the aim; that "keeping a conversation going" in this way represents a "sufficient aim of philosophy." Rorty depicts philosophy as a conversatio perennis.

He does not, however, say what this conversation should actually be about, and what kind of exchange is still possible there. I fear that he would be unable to state this either, for this conversation—in so far as it complies with Rorty's description—is no longer really about anything. Conversational partners provide one another, at best, with stimulation and a basic encouragement: they "have the courage to develop a new, deviant description, one which might even seem mad at first." But all processes of refutation, falsification, of argumentative discussion and clarifying dispute are eliminated. Hence it is to be expected that this results not, as Rorty says, in "keeping a conversation going," but rather in the opposite: in the bogging down of these conversations, in which nothing is really at stake, in peaceable conversational murmurs, in discursive entropy. Rorty's theory of conversations seems better suited to high-brow parlour talk amongst the educated and their inspiriters than to the business of philosophy.

Neither does Rorty shy from obviously minimizing definitions of philosophy. According to him in some circumstances the edifying philosopher "might just be saying something." This is what philosophy is supposed to be from now on. As prime examples Rorty even adduces Heidegger and Wittgenstein. Yet, both of them would turn in their graves if they were to hear that they had only "just said something." Heidegger and Wittgenstein strove life-long with the utmost of exertion for cogent evidence, sound arguments, and reliable alternatives. One can certainly question their value, but not ignore or suppress their clarifying efforts as such. Heidegger and Wittgenstein didn't just talk out of the blue; they weren't the antecedents of the contemporary "That's how I see it, full stop, that's all there is to it, finished; you're welcome to view it differently—so much the better, that way the wealth of human viewpoints grows."

Heidegger drew attention to the transition that took place with Plato from aletheia to orthotes and saw this as planting the seeds of the "calculative thinking" that has progressed ever since, culminating in the "atomic age," and whose abandonment in favour of "contemplative thinking" is imminent. In all of this his claim was first to accomplish argumentatively a relativization of calculative thinking, second to develop the concept of a history of being embracing both calculative and contemplative thinking, and third to present grounds for the distancing from the metaphysical tradition. And when Wittgenstein said that traditional problems of philosophy result from a fundamental misunderstanding and misuse of language, he was convinced that this could be proved by many points and that this would eventually be one of the reasons why subsequent generations would make the transition to another type of philosophizing. Heidegger and Wittgenstein did not simply play off a new vocabulary against an old one and most certainly did not "just say something"; they analyzed and argued insistently.

Rorty could counter that if Heidegger and Wittgenstein thought they had done more than simply play off a new vocabulary against an old one, then they misunderstood themselves. However, it is noteworthy that Rorty doesn't level this accusation, which he does make against Nietzsche and Derrida, at Heidegger and Wittgenstein. For what reason? Heidegger and Wittgenstein did in fact do something other than Nietzsche and Derrida. The latter claim (according to Rorty) to state truthfully how things stand in reality. Since, on the other hand, they declare this to be impossible, they rightly acquire themselves "charges of self-referential inconsistency." Heidegger and Wittgenstein, however, claim only to criticize argumentatively a preceding view. This should indeed be impermissable according to Rorty's demonstration of the impossibility of argument, but once again: Rorty doesn't make this accusation with regard to Heidegger and Wittgenstein. Is it possible after all in some cases, in Rorty's own estimation, to argue between heterogeneous conceptions and bring about refutations?

I will now return to the main focus of my considerations, the problem of argument. Using an example, I will show that Rorty himself de facto goes beyond his own restrictive thesis.

In Contingency, Irony and Solidarity Rorty presents a refutation of traditional epistemological discourse, one which to me seems sound. What's wrong is not this refutation, but Rorty's playing-down of its value and penetrative force.

Rorty's argument proves that the assumption that our cognition has a representationalist status is untenable. And not because we have suddenly gained some experience or insight that things in truth behave quite differently and just how things really are, but rather because the representational model contains a conceptual error. It sets out from the assumption that there is first of all a reality, which is then to be represented as accurately as possible in cognition. In this, reality is conceived of as being prior to, outside of, and independent of our reference to it. In the following I would like to call this kind of reality "alpha-reality" for short (in contrast, say, to understandings of reality in the life-world or in individual sciences). Reference to such an alpha-reality is fundamental to the representational model and all its variants, which reach from realism through to antirealism and from criticalism through to agnosticism, and which individually state, with respect to this alpha-reality, that we are able to cognize it authentically, or merely in translation, only approximately, or not at all.

How does Rorty argumentatively demonstrate that the talk of an alpha-reality makes no sense conceptually, that alpha-reality is a pseudo-idea, in respect of which there is neither anything to be known nor to be missed? How does the argument run which at the same time lifts the representationalist cognitive model off its hinges?

The argument is of an analytic-philosophical kind. I would like, first of all, to state three of its elements and then to develop it further.

First: truth is a characteristic of sentences, not of objects. Whenever we talk of the true state of objects, we actually mean the truth of corresponding sentences. "This board is black" means that the sentence making the claim is true. Second: sentences belong to vocabularies or language games and are dependent on these for their meaning—the identical-sounding sentence "Peter towered over all" has a different meaning in the anthropometric context than in the historical one. Now—thirdly—one would, however, like to be able to refer to reality independently of the conditions of such language games. Or one would like to make a decision between different descriptions of reality, suggested by different language games, by measuring their degree of adequacy to reality against reality itself. But this cannot be done. It would require language-free access to reality; and there is no such thing. And, even if there were, it would be of no use for the purpose named, since—as a result of its non-linguistic nature—one would be unable to derive from it sentences like "reality as such behaves in such and such a way." Yet it is precisely such sentences that one would need in order, as intended, to speak about reality as such, or to be able to decide between different descriptions thereof.

As such, the boundedness of all reference to reality to language games represents an ultimate limit which cannot be transcended. The idea of a reality-in-itself, an alpha-reality is in stricto sensu impossible, since it can only occur within a language game—but then it is no longer the idea of an alpha-reality, of a reality completely independent of language games. Our talk of reality is always the talk of a "reality-under-a-certain-description."

So much for the basic form of the argument. In the next step, I would like to discuss an objection, and by doing this get to the core and pure form of the argument.

Among philosophical language games there are some which make use of reference to an alpha-reality: namely, the language games of the representationalist group. They operate with the idea of a reality that precedes our cognition and exists independently of it. Let us consider, for the sake of brevity, this group's leading paradigm alone, the realistic language game—the result will be apply to the other versions too.

The realistic paradigm states that the task of cognition is to apprehend alpha-reality as exactly as possible, no matter how difficult this might be. Moreover this paradigm insists on the exacting notion that a cognition-independent reality is indispensable for the concept of cognition, since without it cognition would degenerate to mere self-application.

What can Rorty make of this counter model, one which—contrary to his analytic philosophical thesis of the impossibility of reference to an alpha-reality—nonetheless operates with such an idea? Now, "conforming to [his] own precepts," Rorty must—as surprising as this might seem at first—recognize this language game. For it is precisely when language games represent an impassable horizon of meaning and argument, as Rorty claims, that one is unable to criticize or refute this language game in the name of another language game or a general insight which overarches language games. It may well be that other language games get by without the predicate "real," but "real" has an indispensable function for the realistic language game, and one must seek out and discuss the predicate "real"—just as with all other predicates—wherever it makes sense, and within the realistic language game it undoubtedly makes sense.

It is this finding—the requisite recognition of the opposing model precisely under Rorty's premisses—that first makes it necessary to uncover the actual core and penetrating point of Rorty's argument. Let us consider whether the realistic language game is consistent—whether, above all, it is consistent in its central point, with regard to the use of the expressions "real" and "reality." These expressions should, as I've said, refer to an alpha-reality, that is to a reality prior to, external to, and independent of all interpretation. Do they really do this? Obviously not. For these expressions already contain—contrary to their intention and pretension—a particular exposition of the X to which they refer, moreover an exposition which is anything but self-evident.

It is a particular exposition in so far as the truth is claimed of the proposition that this alpha-reality exists prior to, eternal to, and independent of our cognition. With this, however, some claims about this reality have already been made. That what is concerned here is in no way a self-evident exposition becomes clear as soon as one bears in mind that historically there have been quite different ways of understanding reality, say the ancient thesis of a basic commerciality between reality and cognition, or the apprehension in modernity of an interactionism between cognition and reality. These comparisons show that the talk of an alpha-reality is heavily laden with content—but with this it is elementarily self-contradictory. It claims to talk of a reality prior to, external to, and independent of each and every interpretation, but by so doing it already undertakes a highly consequential interpretation of this reality. This contradictory trait—the claim that reality, so interpreted, is a reality prior to all interpretation—even constitutes the core of the realistic paradigm. It is just because of this ascribed meaning of being independent of and prior to cognition that the whole emphasis is placed on this reality and that this becomes the measure of all descriptions and any cognition.

To put it another way: the realist does something other than he thinks and claims he is doing. He believes he is pointing to a reality free of interpretation, but in truth he has already unavoidably provided this reality with a certain interpretation. To this extent, the talk of alpha-reality is fundamentally inconsistent. And there is no way of escaping from the dual character of the asserted independence from interpretation and the factual interpretative status—unless one no longer wanted to say anything at all, but one could not then advocate the alpha-thesis, and the whole paradigm simply wouldn't exist.

The realistic position would only be remediable if it were to recognize the interpretative status of the alpha-reality it postulates. It would have to proceed from belief in its reference to an interpretation-free reality, to the understanding that it references a reality interpreted in a certain way (albeit perhaps a very meaningful way). It is only in this modified form that the paradigm would be consistent, whereas in its original form it abrogates itself. Seen in this light, the result of these considerations is not a flat rejection of the realistic paradigm, but rather the call for a conceptually adequate grasp of that position, one familiar to us all and intuitively credible, called realism.

Allow me to add three more observations. First: my development of Rorty's argument goes beyond the standard analytic philosophical objection, according to which we can refer to reality only through propositions, that is within language, so that it is impossible in principle to refer to things transcending language (say, to a reality transcending language) —in Rorty's word: "[...] no linguistic items represent any nonlinguistic items." This might be right, but is not sufficient. The general condition of sentences—their immanence in language—is one thing. The specific contouring of a certain meaning however—in this case the meaning of the alpha-reality—is something else. The decisive argumentative point is not that the realist can speak of a reality transcending language only within language, but rather that the predicate 'reality' used by him inevitably attributes a certain meaning to its referent, whereas it is precisely this which is allegedly not to be the case.

Secondly, I would like to point out once again that this criticism of the realistic language game in no way makes use of a view of how things are in reality. One is not saying that reality is a construction, that it doesn't even exist, or that we are not capable of knowing it. This would indeed be self-contradictory, since the impossibility of such insight is the core of Rorty's argument. Rather, the refutation results simply and solely from an examination of the consistency of the representationalist paradigm. Such an utterance is not about reality as such, but about the conditions, misunderstandings and the correct understanding of all propositions in which we use predicates like "world," "real," "reality," etc.

Thirdly, the argument against the representational model, in spite of its penetrative force, is of course not to be understood as conclusive, one irrefutable for all times. It is quite conceivable that another argument will some day be found which overrides, modifies, or refutes Rorty's argument. One thing can, however, be said safely: within the framework of those concepts available to us—those developed until now—nothing can be seen to detract from Rorty's argument. In this sense the argument is (for the time being) a valid one, a reliable proposition according with all standards known to us.

What have we established? The consideration of what appears to be its greatest opponent, the realistic language game, results in a confirmation of Rorty's thesis, according to which the idea of a reality exempt from description is untenable. With this, however, Rorty's refutation of the representational model as a whole proves itself to be penetrative. Reality is always—in the realistic language game too—reality-under-a-certain-description. Rorty's argument—which is already found in similar form in Wittgenstein, Sellars, Goodman, or Davidson (and which of course, in its content, was already Hegel's argument)—is sound in every respect.^, Rorty has—at least according to all standards known today–achieved a valid refutation of the representational model.

With a glance at Rorty's conception, however, this result itself is double-edged. For it might confirm his refutation of the epistemological outset, but it evidently contradicts his thesis about the restricted possibilities of argumentation.

Recall Rorty's declaration that argument and refutation are not possible between typologically different conceptions. We have just met an example in which Rorty himself convincingly refutes a typologically contrasting position. Therefore, there must be something wrong with the restriction of argumentation. What it it?

Rorty is misled by imprecisions and overgeneralizations in his definition of typologically different positions. He stylizes their difference into total difference. Whereas paradigmatically different conceptions, according to him, most certainly have something in common—namely their basis (Locke and Kant, for instance, in spite of all other differences, had the idea of representational cognition in common)—typologically different conceptions (say Kant's transcendental philosophy and Dewey's pragmatism) no longer exhibit a common basis—and hence, Rorty concludes, no longer have anything at all in common. As a result all reciprocal argument between them is excluded.

Now, in so far as conceptions are in fact fully heterogenous, the rejection of argumentative possibility would certainly hold. And of course—this constitutes in my eyes the healthy core of Rorty's restriction—any direct basis argument between such positions is impermissible. Wanting to refute the base assumptions of one concept with recourse to the axioms of a typologically different one would be logically incorrect and at best rhetorical. But it is precisely that explanation that is needed as to how Rorty himself can succeed in refuting a typologically contrasting concept—that of alpha-realism—by way of obviously interconceptual argument.

It was obviously specific linguistic-analytic reflection on the funtioning of concepts (such as is originally alien to realist discourse) which provided the key to refutation here. It is revealing, however, that Rorty did not simply bring forward axioms of his model against the other approach, but that his refutation succeeded through an examination of immanent consistency of the opposing concept. On the other hand, however, this means that the refutation follows in a manner contradicting both the total difference of typologically varying conceptions that Rorty insinuates and his thesis as to the impossibility of argument that he derives from this. Obviously even conceptions with basic differences are not so totally heterogenous that the impossibility of all kinds of interconceptual argument might, as Rorty claims, result from their dissimilarity.

To put it another way: one must make the concept of interconceptional argument more precise and differentiated. Interconceptional basis-arguments—the refutation of one basis in the name of the content of another—are indeed impossible. Rorty is thusfar right. Interconceptional detail-arguments however—arguments relating to singular assumptions or constituents of a conception—are most certainly possible. This Rorty has overlooked. The fact that fundamentally different conceptions are heterogeneous in their base assumptions in no way means that they must be heterogeneous in all of their elements. Herein lies Rorty's actual error. On account of their different bases he stylized typologically different conceptions into structures heterogenous everywhere and hence (like Lyotard) obscured all intersections and all common features between them. Yet it is obvious that such conceptions also exhibit common features: they have at least logical structures and, equally, general conditions of theory such as coherence and consistency in common. In addition, intersections in content often exist. All this opens up possibilities for argument and criticism even between conceptions with different bases, which on the one hand comes from outside, but on the other hand—and this is decisive—is at the same time internally legitimate and relevant insofar as it refers to imminent components of the criticized position and takes place in the name of standards that are also recognized by this position.

Such criticism can, moreover, be very helpful in arriving at a more reliable version of the conception in question. It can of course even necessitate the reformulation of leading elements—right through to the reformulation of the base assumption. Rorty's refutation of alpha-realism provided an example of this.

To summarize: since typologically different conceptions, notwithstanding all basic differences, still have some common elements (logical, cross-theoretical, content elements) a whole range of interconceptual argument remains possible—beyond coarse basic arguments, which Rorty, wrongly, considers alone but, rightly, rejects. They can, moreover, extend as far as might be wished, namely, right through to the (merely non-direct, but, so to speak, indirectly effected) refutation of base assumptions.

Rorty would presumably not agree with my reconstruction. He would not like to admit that his objections to the representational model amount to a refutation in the strict sense. He would rather have us believe that he had only played off one vocabulary against another. Such restraint is personally honorable, but to me it seems more than problematic philosophically. With this I come, in conclusion, to the subject of truth—or to Rorty's under-determination thereof.

Rorty rightly avoids the claim that the anti-representationalism he advocates represents the truth, that his "sort of philosophy corresponds to the way things really are." It is exactly such an idea of truth that has had the ground removed from beneath its feet. But does this also mean that truth is no longer to be spoken of at all in the new context? This would only follow if the concept of truth were bound exclusively to the adequational model. But there is no reason for this assumption. If a particular formulation of truth—here, the adequationalist one—proves itself to be untenable, then it is in general replaced by another. The adequationalist concept of truth is not the only one possible: pragmatic, coherence or consensus based, etc., concepts of truth are possible in the same way. One can very well make the transition from representational to edifying philosophy–but one should then also clarify which altered contours truth assumes in this transition.

Rorty, however, neglects this task. He equates the departure from the representationalist idea of truth with the departure from truth altogether. He says we should cease to "see truth as a deep matter, as a topic of philosophical interest." But this seems to me to be exaggerated. This consequence would result, as I've said, only if the objectivist apprehension of truth were to represent the only possible understanding of truth. It is almost paradoxical that Rorty, on the issue of truth, continues to follow the stipulation of the adequationalist position refuted by him. It is for this reason alone that he can equate the breakdown of this position with the abandonment of truth altogether—that is, throw out the baby with the bath water.

De facto of course, Rorty cannot help but raise claims to truth. The whole business of his critical explanations shows that even in the context of edifying philosophy one does not just say or accept arbitrary things. Besides which, Rorty himself once said the edifying philosopher "agree[s] with Lessing's choice of the infinite striving for truth over 'all of truth.'" This is something quite different from the straightforward abstinence from truth. On the other hand, Rorty thinks he can spare himself a clarification of his understanding of truth through the sweeping equation of the idea of truth with the adequation theorem. Recently he has been fond of declaring straightforwardly that truth is not an interesting subject for the pragmatist—something which permits no philosophically fruitful work.

I must confine myself here to these few remarks on the subject of truth, which I cannot unfurl here to its full extent. But two things can be said with certainty. First, there is sufficient room for a whole series of intermediate positions between Rorty's downright abandonment of claims to truth on the one hand and the old concept of absolute objective truth on the other; second, things true can obviously still be said, at least in the sense of being more true—of being argumentatively more correct and superior. So there is cause not to abandon the issue of truth, but on the contrary to take it up again in more precise rational conditions.

In this essay my intention has been to show the extent to which some of Rorty's arguments are better than his declarations about them would indicate, and to deny his post-philosophical claims. Today still, philosophy does not have to become bogged down in a conversatio perennis, but can continue to be an exciting field of argument and endeavouring for truth.

1. Argumentation: In footnote 11 I had said that I had not found any fundamental changes in Rorty's work as regards the question of argumentation after 1989. Nevertheless, one point is becoming increasingly clear. Although Rorty makes continuing use of argumentation, it has for him a clearly different status than in the genuine language game of argumentation. It is characteristic of this language game that argumentation should still be able to affect all foundations. For Rorty, on the contrary, it consciously affects only certain clarifications within an assumed position. For example, Rorty argues on the basis of evolved convictions like democracy and the diminution of suffering for their consequential and broadened application. However he considers it as senseless to want to argue for these convictions as such; properly speaking, this could simply not be done (cf. Contingency, 54). Thus Rorty in general turns away from the fundamental assumption of the language game of argumentation, on the basis of which one still is able to argue about the foundations. Now, I showed before how some of Rorty’s insights can themselves be just as well used in the language game of argumentation. (I am, in fact, differently from Rorty, still interested in this language game.) Of course: to do this is not in Rorty’s interest. And this is, in the sense of the limited roll argumentation plays for him, completely consequential and legitimate. If there is to be a debate, then, it would have to revolve aroundthe following question: Is the language game of argumentation for its part only a specific socio-cultural language game (the traditionally occidental or philosophical one), which should now be abolished by another (the pragmatic or post-philosophical one)? Or does the first language game retain some right, even when philosophers like Rorty decide to go over to another language game? The status of argumentation as relevant to the foundations or merely relevant within—that is the alternative whose decision seems to be presupposed at any one time—in favor of the foundations-relevant type in my case, and in favor of the insider-relevant type in Rorty’s case. What can Rorty now bring forth in favor of his option? He cannot, of course—in a consequential way—give a reason for this option, but only recommmend it. In any case he wants to proceed in this way. Does he really do so?

2. Monotypic of philosophy? What Rorty has had in mind ever since Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature is a paradigm shift in philosophical activity, from epistemological to edifying philosophy, which later has meant: to pragmatism or to post-philosophical culture. My question is now: whether Rorty’s plea has all in all a consistent form. I think that on at least one point this is not the case: there, namely, where Rorty says that we would do best to realize the paradigm shift he suggests. The mistake seems to me to lie in the demands of exclusivity to which he ties it. First of all there is no satisfying reason to assume that we would best serve our social interests through the suggested paradigm shift—one can not be certain of this, even if it may be plausible that Rorty’s suggestion is a good way to serve such interests; but it could easily be that other philosophical strategies also—at least in the long run—serve quite well for this purpose. Secondly, all polemics against other orientations of philosophizing are out of place, since first of all it cannot (according to Rorty himself) be shown (but rather in all cases circularly clarified) that these other orientations have failed, and secondly, Rorty’s polemic is for this reason no better than the reverse polemic of other orientations against Rorty. This is finally—in the third place—the truly irritating point: that Rorty (therein certainly no "post-modern" thinker) calls out a new unified kind of philosophy, and likes to speak about other kinds only in shoulder-shrugging or discrediting ways. Against this, Rorty’s observation at the end of Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature was too golden for words: that it cannot be excluded that "mirror-imagery and "mainstream," systematic philosophy will be revitalized once again by some revolutionary of genius" (Mirror, 393). If we are to think in a democratic and liberal way, then plurality of philosophical options should not at the same time be reduced to one—pragmatic or post-philosophical—model.