207. #PHILOSOPHYMATTERS - Doesn't it?
This week marks the start of British Philosophy Fortnight, a new annual initiative launched by the British Philosophical Association to celebrate, promote and champion philosophy. As an academic subject with no GCSE, only one exam board offering an A-level, and one which often seems to have to justify its existence within institutions of higher education amidst a wealth of cost-cutting department closures across the UK university landscape, I for one was really excited at the prospect of a campaign to remind people of philosophy’s worth. Indeed, full disclosure, I am involved in one of the BPA’s campaign videos, explaining why I think #PhilosophyMatters in schools and since starting my teaching career have been involved in various efforts to separate Philosophy from Religious Studies and allow Philosophy to shine in its own right instead of being permanently entangled with the study of faith and theology. I run this philosophy blog, I have written philosophy papers and books, I have taught philosophy in schools for nearly fifteen years and before that taught it at university while studying philosophy up to PhD level. Having dedicated much of my personal and professional life to Philosophy since first stumbling upon the subject at A-level, the idea that #PhilosophyMatters was something so obvious to me that I realised, when asked by the BPA to articulate why philosophy matters to students, it has perhaps become a principle of blind faith. Something I have reflected very little on since I first stepped foot as a student into a Philosophy classroom in 1998.
Part of my answer of why #PhilosophyMatters to students is that Philosophy is a unique space on the school curriculum where students are able to take received wisdom - including the wisdom they learn in the Philosophy classroom - and see if it stands up to philosophical scrutiny. So I thought it would be worth marking British Philosophy Fortnight by doing exactly that with the claim that #PhilosophyMatters and ask ourselves: does it?
I sat down to write this because I didn’t want to send out the message of #PhilosophyMatters into the world and then find out that I didn’t believe that it did. As a teacher of Philosophy, I do sometimes wonder when students ask me about studying Philosophy at A-level or University whether I am doing the right thing by sending them down the same path I ended up on. By encouraging them to pursue this subject that can so easily pull apart the foundations of their previously held ideas and condemn them to an unrelentingly examined life, am I making a mistake? Might my own life have been better if Philosophy had never been in it? Do I even like Philosophy anymore, or is it just something I’ve been unthinkingly doing for so long that it’s become a habit?
Perhaps the very fact that my philosopher’s instinct when offered an affirmation of my life’s focus - #PhilosophyMatters - is to question it, is our first piece of evidence that philosophy really does matter. A discipline more interested in the truth than in what is convenient or comforting seems like a discipline we need more of in the current partisan and divisive world, not something we need less of. At the same time, however, perhaps that immediate instinctive leap philosophy brings to become a “killjoy” and throw shade over something intended to be a positive bit of fun - the philosopher’s inability to enjoy just two weeks out of fifty-two set aside for celebrating what they do - is a sign that Philosophy could end up taking us further away from the good life than anything it does to bring us to it?
I often think, when thinking of the norms of professional Philosophy, about a book launch I attended a few years ago. I shan’t mention the book or the thinker, but the event was held to celebrate the publication of what was essentially their life’s work at this point in their career and I remember thinking at the time that if you weren't a philosopher observing the proceedings you might have thought what you had just witnessed was a disaster. Far from the way non-philosophical books might be launched, with a glowing introduction of the author, a short reading from the text, and a congratulatory Q&A, the way a philosophy book gets launched is that the author tends to outline the main thesis of their work and then several experts in the field who have read it stand up and praise the effort of the writer before tearing apart all the ways in which they think the book might have got the argument wrong, or the ways in which it requires some further thought. This barrage of criticism and issues raised is then followed by a Q&A in which other philosophers in attendance poke further holes at what they have been presented with. All followed by a drinks reception and a few nibbles so the fierce debate can continue more informally elsewhere.
I think of this because in a way it sums up what is both wonderful and problematic about Philosophy. Philosophy never stops. It is not for the philosopher to blindly clap the success of an argument they can’t help but see an issue with, even if it is at a book launch designed precisely to celebrate that argument. And, knowing they would do exactly the same thing themselves if presented by someone else’s argument, most philosophers are happy to receive the critical comments about their work because, they too, once presented with a problem in their thinking, want to work to solve it. In a way, this is wonderful. Humble, open-minded, and committed to the mutual pursuit of the truth rather than personal vainglory. At the same time though, wouldn’t it be nice to just take the night off every once in a while and raise a glass to what has been achieved without always having to acknowledge what hasn’t? We philosophers are often fairly bad at biting our tongues if we think someone has gone wrong somewhere along the way in their thinking. Maybe we would be better guests at dinner parties if we didn’t always have to argue and find fault with everyone’s position which isn’t our own? Is it time for Philosophy to look in the mirror for a moment and consider why, if no paper has ever been presented at a Philosophy conference without being flooded with objections in the Q&A, is it possible that our perpetual criticism might not be as useful as it seems? After all - we don’t seem to have reached an agreement on anything as a result?
David Hume famously suggested the need to take a step away from the conclusions of his philosophies every once in a while: “I dine, I play a game of backgammon, I converse, and am merry with my friends; and when after three or four hours’ amusement I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold and strained and ridiculous that I cannot find [it] in my heart to enter into them any farther.” I think what Hume describes has hit all philosophers at one time or another. If the job of Philosophy is to ask questions about our everyday assumptions and problematise norms and received wisdom to see if they stand up to that analysis - the very reason that I argue #PhilosophyMatters - then a logical consequence of this is that, when such ideas do not stand up to that scrutiny, sometimes philosophers are left without the easy assurance and ease of those conventional views about the world. You are sometimes left untethered, disturbed by your conclusions, unable to engage with a previously shared worldview, and alienated from the rest of your society. The only choice other than to go completely mad at such a moment is to set aside your revelations and pretend they didn’t happen. For Hume it was food, backgammon and friends. For me it might be reality TV and playing my guitar. But in the self-preserving act of setting down our ideas and returning to the pre-philosophical joys of everyday life, is there not an admission here that #PhilosophyMatters because it disrupts, but that the disruptions of Philosophy may be hazardous to your happiness?
To which any philosopher worth their salt would note that the question of whether something “matters” is not necessarily the same as the question of whether it will make you happy, and that I seem to be conflating the two. When I asked if my own life might have been better if Philosophy had never been in it, or if I even like Philosophy anymore, such questions have nothing to do with the question of whether Philosophy matters. For example, it would matter that the doctor has just given you a terminal diagnosis. It would not bring you happiness. Addressing the climate crisis or bringing peace to Ukraine and Gaza matters - but both are difficult tasks requiring hard work, sacrifice, and stress. They will unlikely bring joy. The suggestion that Philosophy might make one ask questions about their lives and the world in which they live that trouble and disturb them - perhaps entirely upend their lives - only means that Philosophy might not be for the feint of heart. It does not mean Philosophy doesn’t matter.
Famously, Mary Midgley equated the job of Philosophy to the job of plumbing. Our tangled mess of half-fudged and inexpert assumptions and ideas going hidden beneath the surface of our everyday thinking until a “pipe” explodes and reveals a fundamental problem with the generationally cobbled-together tubing that needs fixing. Plumbing matters, and we tend to only notice just how much it matters when things go wrong. The essential nature of our need for plumbing is revealed only when we are at our lowest, our rooms flooded with water and waste. And professional plumbers, though they have the tools to save us from these disasters, are the members of society who have to carry with them every day the true weight of just how tenuous everything is down there. How close to the edge of disaster we well and truly are every single day.
I remember a friend who is a plumber talking once about the recurring nightmare they have. Water. Everywhere. Gushing towards him with the full force of its destructive power which he knows only too well is kept at bay merely through an improvised and unfit series of poorly constructed human-made pipes beneath the surface. Pipes which, in the dream, he cannot fix.
My firend has looked into the void so that we don’t have to. He provides what solutions he can to keep us all from drowning or getting sick with the next pandemic caused by lack of sanitation because he recognises just how essential that task is. He matters. Though he may not always be made happy by his job. And he doesn’t think plumbing is for everyone even though, for everyone, it matters.
This was sort of Midgley’s point. If Philosophy is plumbing, do we need expert professional plumbers or can we all do a bit of DIY ourselves whenever a pipe bursts? Plumbing matters to everyone - not just professional plumbers. Philosophy matters in this way too. The professional philosopher might be the one who has done the systematic thinking which concludes we are living in a simulation, but if they are right in their reasoning, their conclusion matters to us all and makes a difference to the importance we give to the things we do with our lives. Even if you want to rebuke the simulation idea, philosophy matters. We can only counter the simulation theory by doing more philosophy about it. Perhaps making the case that the argument is wrong, or that a simulated life is just as impactful and valuable as a non-simulated one. Whether we live our lives in ignorance of the plumbing beneath us, or spend our entire lives with a metaphorical wrench in our hands, we are all living in the world that plumbing has constructed. The world is a mutually negotiated project of fact and fiction we all have theories about and approaches to navigating which share the same underlying assumption that what we believe to be true about the world is, in fact, true. Philosophy is the name we give for the analysis of those truth claims about the world and the recognition that, not only cannot every contrasting and incompatible belief be simultaneously true, but that the reasoning skills of humanity are frequently prone to error, bias and misunderstanding. The quality of our narratives about the world, and how and what it is, matter, and as Philosophy is the word we use for the process of testing the validity of those narratives, and creating the tools to clarify and assure our thinking about them, then Philosophy absolutely matters.
Still, the question of whether what matters will make us happy still persists. We need not all be plumbers.
In my own life, as I look back on those first A-level Philosophy lessons which introduced me to this subject I have never stopped thinking about, if I ask the question would my own life have been better if Philosophy had never been in it, the answer has to be no. Philosophy - though it has brought with it several dark nights of the soul and raised questions that still trouble me to this day - on balance has also brought with it much that is good. Ways of engaging with the world and thinking things through which have brought great clarity and practical changes in my life for the better. I am a vegetarian because of Philosophy. A kinder person in my interactions with others, whether human or non-human. My anarchism comes from my study of Philosophy, as does my atheism. But also, too, my open-mindedness to the possibility that I am wrong about all of it. I feel I have gained more from Philosophy than I have ever lost because of it, and see every day in my professional life how a grounding in philosophical thinking enriches my understanding of things others might take at face value.
At the same time, there have been times where I have stepped away from Philosophy. Taken a sabbatical. Immersed myself in fiction or art and left the heavy thinking for another time. Even in the classroom, I try to strike the right balance each lesson between getting students to think deeply about the world and getting lost in navel-gazing pedantry. Aristotle argued that the function of human life is to flourish, and that we flourish by living lives informed by virtuous reasoning. A life of philosophy is the highest form of the good life for Aristotle. But Aristotle warned, too, of the vices of excess and deficiency. Philosophy might well matter, in fact I believe very much that it does. But just as too little Philosophy might leave you wanting, too much Philosophy and you’re equally far from living the good life. #PhilosophyMatters to all of us, and may matter a lot more to some of us than others, but it matters, always, in combination with a whole package of other things which matter and should not, perhaps, dominate our lives to the point of crowding out other important goods. #PhilosophyMatters, but I don’t need to be troubled, like Plato, about enjoying a good piece of art because it is too far removed from “reality”. I can both worry about the nature of reality at some points in the day, and indulge wholeheartedly in my joyful ignorance at others. Like professional wrestling: we can know it isn’t “real”, but find that the fun comes from knowing that it isn’t and pretending like it is anyway.
#PhilosophyMatters, and it is Philosophy which allows us to recognise just how much, or how little, that which matters needs to dominate our thinking on any given day. It is Philosophy which helps us clarify what we mean when we say that something matters, and even what we mean when we say we are doing the sort of “Philosophy” which matters. What is Philosophy anyway? #PhilosophyMatters because answering that question is doing Philosophy. What is Philosophy is Philosophy. And it is also so much more. #PhilosophyMatters because if we find ourselves asking questions about what we value, what is worth doing, what the good life might be, we are also doing Philosophy there too.
So I shall be celebrating British Philosophy Fortnight wholeheartedly, and hope that all of you will be doing so too. Check out one of the many events that might be happening near you. follow the social media hashtags for #PhilosophyMatters (though perhaps #PhilosophyMatters most because it allows us to recognise how important it is that we get off social media because it is slowly destroying everything we hold dear?), read some new Philosophy, write some Philosophy of your own, and generally celebrate the joys of this wonderful subject.
And then, when it is all over on March 31st, dine, play a game of backgammon, converse, and be merry with your friends until you can stomach returning to Philosophy once again.
Author: DaN McKee (he/him)
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