I Am An American Philosopher: Antje Gimmler
-An Interview Series with John Capps-
“What matters most to me is the practice‑oriented approach that the pragmatist tradition in particular embraces—the effort to make a difference by addressing pressing societal problems.”
Antje Gimmler is Professor of Applied Philosophy at Aalborg University in Denmark. She is the author of several dozen articles on interdisciplinarity, pragmatism, and critical theory. Recent and forthcoming articles in English include “Exploring the Possibilities of Dramatic Rehearsal as a Framework for the Evaluation of Digital Technologies in Education” (in Framing Futures in Postdigital Education: Critical Concepts for Data-driven Practices) and “Self and Sociality” (in Dewey’s Experience and Nature: A Critical Guide). She served for more than a decade as director of the Center for Applied Philosophy at Aalborg’s Department of Culture and Learning and is currently head of studies for the program in Applied Philosophy.
What does American philosophy mean to you?
Philosophers are often difficult people, and when you ask them a question, you rarely get a simple answer—usually you get more questions. When I read “What does American philosophy mean to you?”, my first reaction was: what exactly counts as American philosophy? It is an interesting question whether American philosophers share anything at all, and if so, what that might be. Another question quickly followed: can a German philosopher living and teaching in Denmark become an American philosopher? Perhaps yes—adding another layer to my already hybrid identity might even be enjoyable.
For inspiration, I turned to Marcus G. Singer’s volume on American philosophy, where I found the suggestion that despite its diversity, American philosophy is connected to the American context—its culture, politics, and society. A country shaped by immigration, mobility, and the desire for new beginnings may well influence the development of its philosophical traditions.
The American philosophers who have shaped my own thinking have certainly been influenced by, or directly responded to, issues in American society: classical pragmatism, neo‑pragmatism, certain strands of philosophy of science, political philosophy, and feminist philosophy. What matters most to me is the practice‑oriented approach that the pragmatist tradition in particular embraces—the effort to make a difference by addressing pressing societal problems. This has deeply influenced how I think about philosophy. It is most evident in Dewey’s pragmatism, which often guides how I conceptualize philosophical problems.
Dewey’s notion of an indeterminate situation has been especially fruitful for me. The starting point of an article is often a feeling of uneasiness—something encountered in the world, in literature, or in dialogue. It is the initial inability to articulate precisely what the problem is that sparks curiosity. From a pragmatic perspective, the relevance of a subject cannot be found by engaging only with academic puzzles (though those can be helpful and even enjoyable). Instead, there must be a matter of concern, something rooted in experience that motivates philosophical inquiry. For me, philosophy is a kind of service to society and its citizens. Doing philosophy therefore comes with responsibility—though I mean this with humility; philosophers do not save lives or directly change politics.
How did you become an American philosopher?
A student once brought me a small book containing three essays by Richard Rorty—a German translation, as I was living in Berlin at the time. I was astonished and intrigued. At that time, I was reading a great deal of Habermas and struggling with the problem of Letztbegründung, a transcendental remnant I found difficult to accept.
I later met Richard Rorty several times, and he recommended that I read Dewey—which I did. And I was convinced. Here was a philosophy that was meaningful to me in a different way than Hegel, Habermas, or Kant had been. That said, Habermas remains one of the theorists I return to, which is perhaps unsurprising given the considerable overlap between discourse theory and pragmatism.
Dewey’s pragmatism also allowed me to pursue my interests in social theory in a more practically oriented way. For eleven years I researched and taught in a sociology department, where I could combine political philosophy, social theory, and empirical research. It also helped me learn how to put philosophy of science into practice. In Dewey’s pragmatism, disciplines are not neatly separated—sometimes a challenge, but also an invitation. This eventually led me to work in health studies and the philosophy of medicine.
How would you describe your current research?
Alongside more traditional exegetical work on Dewey, I currently focus on two main areas.
First, I work on how to make deliberative democracy function in practice, especially under the challenges posed by climate change. I examine how deliberative processes can be designed, how values shape citizens’ opinions and decisions, and how expert knowledge can be used without sliding into technocracy. Dewey’s theory of valuation has been extremely helpful in opening the “black box” of background values that shape both citizens’ and experts’ judgments. His concept of dramatic rehearsal is equally useful for accessing the often‑hidden imaginaries that influence deliberation. In the philosophy of technology, too, dramatic rehearsal has proven valuable.
Second, I work in health studies and the philosophy of medicine. The neglect of women in medical research is of great concern to me. At the moment, I am working on the problem of inductive risk in relation to medical tests and how non‑epistemic values can compromise them. Together with medical researchers, I investigate cases such as COPD—a disease that affects men and women equally, though this is not reflected in medical studies.
Overall, my research is highly practice‑oriented, and I try to put pragmatism to work.
What do you do when you’re not doing American philosophy?
Gardening, meeting friends, going to museums. Art means a great deal to me, and I often use examples from art and literature in my philosophical work. I sometimes give talks at exhibition openings. Recently, I held a series of philosophical dialogues with cancer patients in a museum. At first, I worried it might be depressing, but the opposite was true—I rarely experienced such intense and inspiring conversations, it is an entirely different atmosphere than academic discussions.
What’s your favorite work in American philosophy? What should we all be reading?
John Dewey’s Experience and Nature. And Elizabeth Anderson’s The Imperative of Integration.