But this is really quite naive, and when you look at the particulars, really one discipline has very little to do with the other. James certainly did lay the foundation for modern psychology, but to the extent that he did he was acting as a scientist, not a philosopher, and very little of James' actual philosophy survives self-consciously in the discipline today. How many psychologists do you know claim that the epistemological bedrock of their practice is rooted in a Jamesean (or Dewey-ian) pragmatism? How many psychological curriculums require a study of James' theory of belief? How much practical application do Kant's categories have in modern psychology, and if they did, would they hold up under serious philosophical scrutiny? The answers to these questions are: few if any, not many/none, not much, and no.
But there is no way to make that claim about Kant and Critique of Pure Reason. The logic underpinning such an argument - that Kant's view of the mind does not match popular current scientific theories and therefor does not constitute science - would also place Newton's Principia outside the realm of Physics.
To suppose that the thrust of Kant's categories do not underpin modern psychology one would have to be the most radical of behaviorists. Modern psychology readily accepts that a person's experience of the world is largely shaped by the features of their mind - e.g. reframing.
[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reframing]
As for what psychologists claim as their epistemological basis, I suspect that the rate at which psychologists would claim James as a predecessor is significantly greater than the rate at which planetary astronomers who would claim Giordano Bruno's work as their epistemological base.
That's an interesting parallel, but I think Newton/Kant is really apples/oranges (as it were). Kant's 'Copernican Revolution' notwithstanding, his <i>a priori</i> categories were highly speculative -- by definition -- and not really meant as a theoretical underpinning for a science of mind as much as an attempt to establish a reasonably defensible epistemology in the face of Hume's skepticism. Kant may have had hopes in a scientific direction, but in practice no scientist uses concrete, specific Kantian principles as a basis for research. Gestalt theory would be the closest attempt, but that's a pretty high-level appropriation. It had its day and retains some residual influence but certainly nothing on the order of Newton's fundamental laws in the world of physics.
But even if you consider Gestalt or some of the contemporary influence of phenomenology in certain psychological circles (and they are limited), the philosophical problems with Kant or James remain: Neither James' nor Kant's answers to Hume fully protect one from skepticism or solipsism. Husserl and his inheritors in the Phenomenological/Continental tradition fared better there, and certainly Husserl's entire endeavor was focused on Science and its epistemological problems -- but very little of the scientific community has done the difficult work of understanding Husserl. Kuhn/Popper/Lakatos it seems are much easier to digest.
I find there's some important common ground between science and epistemology that can be talked about, though practicing scientists, in practice, never need to tread there.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_philosophy
Principia Mathematica's full title is Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica
First time I saw that quotation, I thought it showed an amusing lack of understanding. Now I see the point; we need to know what questions need asking before we can begin to build anything of value in response.
Does philosophy answer this question? Or perhaps questions of the form "What questions should we ask in circumstances [FILL IN THE BLANK]?"
Remember that science is about rigorously reporting what is observed. It is possible to do good science without having to slavishly demand a control group - for example, where is the control group or the null hypothesis in the field of taxonomy?
The student in the anecdote does ask 'why' and I'm all for that, but I would have preferred the anecdote to answer his question rather than just leave it as a joke.
Well, notwithstanding the fact that it certainly provides some answers, philosophy is more oriented towards learning how to come up with answers, and more importantly, learning how to recognize if the answer you’ve come up with is right or wrong. I have forgotten much of what my first year philosophy professor said, but one thing that has always stuck with me was his opinion that “If we didn’t have philosophers, we’d still be burning witches.”
That philosophy is useless because it in not practical is the same sort of thinking as expressed by reluctant students taking algebra and pre-calculus: Why do we need to know this stuff? It’s not like I will use it in everyday life. True, for the most part, many things you learn in a math course you will not need to live your everyday life. However, learning these things teaches you how to think, how to reason, and that answers can be derived by methodically applying known principles to discover the unknown. Athletes perform many exercises in the gym using motions and machines they will never encounter in their respective sport, but the point is of course these exercises help to make the body stronger and build endurance. The same principle applies to philosophy.
To me, the spirit of philosophy is asking “why” when everyone just accepts, much like the student in this anecdote:
One day when I was a junior medical student, a very important Boston surgeon visited the school and delivered a great treatise on a large number of patients who had undergone successful operations for vascular reconstruction. At the end of the lecture, a young student at the back of the room timidly asked, “Do you have any controls?” Well, the great surgeon drew himself up to his full height, hit the desk, and said, “Do you mean did I not operate on half of the patients?” The hall grew very quiet then. The voice at the back of the room very hesitantly replied, “Yes, that’s what I had in mind.” Then the visitor’s fist really came down as he thundered, “Of course not. That would have doomed half of them to their death.” God, it was quiet then, and one could scarcely hear the small voice ask, “Which half?” -Dr. E. E. Peacock, Jr